New Adventures of the Mad Scientists' Club by Bertrand R. Brinley, Charles Geer Page A

Strawberry
Lake. Henry and Jeff were called on the carpet by the Mayor, and of course they
denied having any such intentions. But that didn't change the fact that the
Kiwanis picnic had been flooded out, and a strawberry shortcake the size of a
bathtub had to be abandoned in the middle of the clearing at Memorial Point.
            Far from
bragging about their prowess as rainmakers, Freddy and Dinky were trying to
deny any connection with the episode when Henry and Jeff got back to the
clubhouse.
            "We
were down by Lemon Creek all the time," said Freddy stoutly. "We
didn't even know any Kiwanis picnic was going on."
            Jeff
Crocker fastened a gimlet eye on him. "Joe Dougherty claims they heard
about five rockets fired just before it started to rain, and he has four
hundred witnesses to back him up. Who do you think fired those rockets,
Freddy?"
           
"Probably my cousin Harmon," said Freddy offhandedly, pretending that
he saw something very interesting outside the window. "He's always
sneakin' around where he's not supposed to be."
            "It
so happens that Harmon was here in the clubhouse with us all the time,"
said Henry quietly. "And the rest of his gang were assigned to man the
launch sites south of town. I don't think it's very fair to try and blame this
on Harmon."
           
"OK, OK!" said Freddy, thrusting the palms of his hands upwards.
"So it didn't work!"
            Our
reputation managed to survive the episode of the Kiwanis picnic, but not for
long. Mortimer Dalrymple and Homer Snodgrass sat out the Brake Hill watch one
day at the edge of Jason Barnaby's apple orchard. It had been three days since
any good clouds had been sighted in the valley, but there was a cool wind
blowing in from the east that held promise of moisture to come.
            It was
about noontime that a big black cloud came riding high over the crest of Brake
Hill. It looked like a prime thunderhead, and Homer and Mortimer got the
artillery ready. They hit it with two shots and ran for cover among the trees
in the orchard. They hadn't yet reached the shelter of a tent they had strung
between two of the trees when a deafening roar surround them.
           
"What was that?" cried Homer. "Something hit me!"
            No
sooner had he said it than a hailstone the size of a pullet egg hit him on the
right shoulder.
           
"Geronimo!" cried Mortimer. "It's hailing doorknobs. Run for
cover!"
            They
both dove under the tent while hailstones pelted the orchard all around them and
apples came thumping to the ground by the hundreds. The accumulated weight of
ice and Baldwin apples on the sagging eaves of the tent finally collapsed it,
and the two of them lay flat on the ground holding the canvas about their heads
for protection. The cloud was a big one and it drifted on through town, leaving
a trail of minor destruction in its path, and finally spent itself in the hills
across the valley.
            A
cast-iron straitjacket wouldn't have held Jason Barnaby still after that one.
He barged into Mayor Scragg's office and thumped loudly on the Mayor's desk,
complaining that half his apple harvest had been ruined. He forgot all about
the fact that he wouldn't have had any apples at all if we hadn't brought rain
to his orchard in the first place. Abner Larrabee's wife, who is a social
leader in town, wailed piteously in a letter to the editor of the Mammoth
Falls Gazette that her prize peonies had been stoned to death just before
they reached the full glory of their bloom. She complained bitterly about
"wanton boys who create mischief with their teenage pranks" and
wondered when the Mayor was going to do something about the problem of juvenile
delinquency.
            The
episode of the hailstorm seemed to dampen some of the enthusiasm for our project
around town, but the more rain-thirsty farmers kept urging us to continue. The
editor of the Gazette wrote an editorial in our defense, in which