Danny Dunn and Heat Ray Read online

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  Copyright © 1962, renewed 1990 by Jay Williams & Raymond Abrashkin.

  *

  Published by Wildside Press LLC

  www.wildsidepress.com

  THE DANNY DUNN SERIES

  Danny Dunn and the Anti-Gravity Paint

  Danny Dunn on a Desert Island

  Danny Dunn and the Homework Machine

  Danny Dunn and the Weather Machine

  Danny Dunn on the Ocean Floor

  Danny Dunn and the Fossil Cave

  Danny Dunn and the Heat Ray

  Danny Dunn, Time Traveler

  Danny Dunn and the Automatic House

  Danny Dunn and the Voice from Space

  Danny Dunn and the Smallifying Machine

  Danny Dunn and the Swamp Monster

  Danny Dunn, Invisible Boy

  Danny Dunn Scientific Detective

  Danny Dunn and the Universal Glue

  DEDICATION

  This book is for the Siegel boys: Jonathan Andy and Jeffrey Nahum.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The authors are grateful to Owen Kampen for aeronautical material; to William D. Feeny, Squadron Commander in the Civil Air Patrol, for much information and advice; and especially to John Atwood, Research Director of the Perkin-Elmer Corporation, for information about the laser and for allowing us to see it in operation.

  CHAPTER 1

  An Important Announcement

  Washington Avenue was swarming with boys and girls on their way to school. They were as thick as ants streaming to an anthill, and their laughter and chatter, calls, whistles, and shouts made such a racket that Mr. Polseno, the candy store owner, looked nervously at the vibrating glass of his big window. Then he blinked and looked again.

  A sturdy, freckled, redheaded boy was just passing in front of the window. And above his head dangled four school books bound together with a strap. They seemed to be floating in the air.

  Mr. Polseno rubbed his eyes. As the boy moved, the books moved with him. The candy store owner ran to the door. Then he saw that the books were hanging from a large, silvery balloon some three feet in diameter, attached by a long cord to the boy’s belt.

  “Danny Dunn!” said Mr. Polseno. “Hey, boy, you nearly gave me heart failure. What are you, a secret Air Force weapon?”

  “Oh, hello Mr. Polseno,” Danny said cheerfully. “How do you like my new painless way of carrying books?”

  “Very fine, unless a bird flies headfirst into it,” said Mr. Polseno. “Where did you get such a big balloon? I didn’t know they made them that size for kids.”

  “Oh, this isn’t a toy,” Danny replied. “It’s used for sending weather instruments aloft. Professor Bullfinch was using some of them for his experiments, and he gave me one. They’re filled with helium, you see, so they can lift quite a weight.”

  He jerked his thumb at a tall, thin sad-looking boy who had been walking with him. “I tried to convince Joe to use one, but he’s nervous about them.”

  Joe Pearson, Danny’s best friend, shook his head. “I’m just waiting for it to blow up, or fly off with all his books,” he said. “Every time Danny tries one of these nutty experiments, there’s some kind of trouble.”

  A pretty, blue-eyed girl with her dark hair in a long ponytail, was on the other side of Joe. Her name was Irene Miller and she lived next door to Danny. “Stop worrying, old Gloom,” she laughed. “If I hadn’t left my books in school yesterday, I’d have them floating up there, too. The only problem I can see in this experiment is what to do with the balloon when we get to school.”

  “No problem at all,” Danny said airily. “I’ll tie it to the bicycle rack outside.”

  “It’ll probably fly off with the rack and all the bikes,” said Joe. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Mr. Polseno went back into his store, chuckling to himself, and the three young people walked on. As they turned into the school grounds, two boys who had been playing mumblety-peg stopped their game and stared.

  One of them, a plump boy with curly black hair, said, “Look, Eddie—balloons! It’s a parade.”

  Eddie Philips got up and dusted off the knees of his trousers. He was broad shouldered, with heavy, blond eyebrows that gave his face a sulky appearance.

  “Hey, Danny,” he called. “What happened? Did your head swell so much that it finally broke loose?”

  Danny grinned. “What’s the matter, Snitcher?” he retorted. “Are you jealous of scientific inventions?”

  Eddie, who hated to be called “Snitcher,” scowled. “Scientific inventions, eh? Like the time you blew out every light in the school demonstrating an electrical generator? What’s so great about hanging your books on a balloon?”

  “Oh, they must weigh about four pounds,” Danny said cheerfully. “Doesn’t your arm get tired carrying yours to school?”

  “My arms don’t get tired that easily,” said Eddie. “What you should have up there is a little airplane instead of a toy balloon. That would be a real scientific achievement.”

  “Hmm,” Danny said, looking interested. “That’s not such a bad idea. Only, I don’t know what would keep the plane up—”

  Eddie guffawed. “How about that, George? The great expert, Danny Dunn, and he doesn’t even know what keeps a plane up in the air!”

  “Sure I do,” Danny retorted. “It’s—well—um—that wasn’t what I meant,” he finished, lamely. “I meant, how would you fuel a model plane so it would—”

  But Eddie wasn’t listening. “Go ahead,” he jeered. “Tell us what keeps a plane up.”

  Dan scratched his head. He was deeply interested in science and knew more about some aspects of it than most young people did. His mother was housekeeper for the famous Professor Euclid Bullfinch, and the Professor had taught Danny a great deal about the marvels of the universe. It was hard for the boy to admit that he didn’t know the answer to what ought to be a simple question for someone living in the twentieth century. But at last he said, “I—I guess I don’t know. Do you, Irene?”

  Irene shook her head. She shared Danny’s interest in science and planned to become a physicist some day. But she had to say, “I guess it has something to do with its wings, but I don’t know what.”

  Eddie said loftily, “Huh! So you don’t know as much as you think you do. Anybody knows that a plane’s engine is what makes it fly. The engine pulls the plane up and keeps it up by pulling it through the air. If the engine conks out, the plane falls, doesn’t it?”

  He picked up his school books. “Come, George,” he said, “let us leave these uncouth characters. They are little better than dopes.”

  The school bell began its shrilling at that moment. “We’d better run,” Joe said. “We’ll be late.”

  Danny quickly untied his books from the balloon. He trotted to the side door of the school and hitched the balloon cord to the bicycle rack which stood outside. As they went into the building, he said thoughtfully to his friends, “You know, I don’t think Snitcher was right. A glider flies without an engine. So does a kite. It must be something else that holds a plane up.”

  He continued to wonder about the problem all during the morning periods. He thought about it during English, and when Mr. Green asked him who wrote Hamlet, he replied, “William Airplane.” He was puzzling over it during Geometry, so that when he was asked to define a right triangle, he said, “A right triangle is one that flies without an engine.” And in Science, when Miss Arnold said, “Danny, perhaps you can tell us what a proton is,” he sat up straight, gave a laugh, and blurted, “Air, of course.”

  Miss Arnold looked a little startled, for Danny was one of her best pupils. “Air?” she s
aid.

  “Holds it up,” said Danny. “Of course, that’s it. But how?”

  “How does air hold a proton up?” said Miss Arnold in bewilderment.

  “Yes, that’s the real question,” Danny nodded.

  “Danny Dunn!” said Miss Arnold. “That is not the question. I don’t know where you’ve been, but you haven’t been in this classroom. I don’t want to have to talk to you again about daydreaming.”

  The rest of the class was giggling, and Danny’s face burned. “Gosh, I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  Miss Arnold sighed, and glanced at her watch. “Well,” she said, “as long as we’ve been stopped short, and it’s nearly the end of the period, I’ll make my announcement. I had planned to make it just before dismissal. I think all of you—including Mr. Dunn, if he can keep his mind on what I’m saying—will find this important. There is to be a State Science Fair for the students of all our schools. I am sure many of you will want to enter it with displays, models, and demonstrations.”

  There was a buzz of interest from the class. Irene raised her hand, and said, “Miss Arnold, when is to be held?”

  “The week after Thanksgiving,” Miss Arnold answered. “That gives you more than two months to prepare for it. There will be prizes for the best entries in each age group. And our own principal, Mr. Standish, is offering prizes for the best entries from this school. Now, I haven’t any doubt that all the prizes are going to be snapped up by people from this class. I will be glad to help any of you with advice or suggestions for reading or reference. I know that many of you have special interests already, and I expect there will be some exciting variety.”

  Victoria Williams said, “Shall we tell our plans when we’ve decided on them, Miss Arnold? Or shall we keep them secret?”

  Miss Arnold smiled. “It will be much more fun, I think,” she said, “if the entries come as a surprise. However, we don’t want duplications if we can help it. I think the best way to do it would be for each of you to let me know about your project as soon as you decide on it. I’ll keep a list, and then if there’s any doubt we can discuss whether you ought to go on with it or not. I hope you’ll bring your projects to class as soon as you can. In fact, I’ll invite Mr. Standish to come and see the first one that’s brought in, and we can have it demonstrated for all of us.”

  The class was murmuring with excitement and anticipation. Irene turned round in her seat and said to Danny, “Isn’t it terrific? Shall we do one together?”

  “Sure,” Danny replied. “And I think I’ve got a great idea.”

  Miss Arnold clapped her hands. “Very well, class. Come to order, please.”

  They slowly quieted, and she went on. “Now we have a few minutes left before the bell, so perhaps we can return to our discussion of the atom. I was just asking about—”

  Her voice trailed away. She had been facing the windows, and she stood suddenly motionless with an odd look on her face.

  “How extraordinary,” she exclaimed. “I thought I saw—but that’s impossible.”

  “I saw it too, Miss Arnold,” cried Gordon Gianninoto, who sat next to the window. “It was a flying saucer.”

  His twin brother, Jamie, added, “It was a big round silvery thing, wasn’t it? It flew right past the window.”

  Miss Arnold rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What on earth can it mean?”

  Danny sighed. “I think I know, Miss Arnold,” he said sadly. “It means I didn’t tie a tight enough knot, and I’m going to have to carry my books home from school.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Heads or Tails

  Right after school, Danny, Joe, and Irene held a meeting. Danny’s room was on the top floor of Professor Bullfinch’s house, and his window looked out over the back garden to the distant roofs and towers of Midston University. The room was crammed with books, shelves full of radio equipment, a microscope, a chemistry set, wires, magnifying glasses, tools, and a litter of old experiments and projects which Danny kept because he felt that their parts might come in handy some day. His mother continually tried to clean out the room, and Danny just as stubbornly refused to throw anything away, so that there was barely space for him and his two friends. They made themselves as snug as possible—Irene in the armchair, Joe lounging on the bed, and Danny perched on the edge of the desk.

  Danny said solemnly, “Flight.”

  “Okay,” said Joe. “Who?”

  “Who what?”

  “Who are we going to fight?”

  “Flight, knucklehead.” Danny grinned. “My idea is to make a project based on what Snitcher said. I think it is very catchy, a swell slogan for a display.”

  “On what Snitcher said?” Joe repeated. “You mean, ‘They are little better than dopes’? I don’t think that’s such a good slogan.”

  “No, Joe,” Irene said patiently. “He means, ‘What keeps a plane up.’”

  “That’s it,” said Danny. “And I’m sure I’ve figured out the answer—anyway, part of it. It’s air that holds up a plane, or a glider, or a kite.”

  “Sure,” Joe nodded. “A remarkable deduction. Then why won’t it hold me up? If I tried flapping my arms and jumping up in the air, I’d fall on my face.”

  “That’s the part I don’t understand,” Danny confessed. “I don’t know how it works, but I’ll bet I’m right. I’m sure we can find out the answer. Then we can make a display showing how it works, maybe with a model airplane. What do you think, Irene?”

  “Fine. I’d love to try.”

  “I’ll letter your signs,” Joe said, yawning. “But don’t expect me to understand what’s going on. Science is not my subject. Maybe I’ll write a poem in praise of your prize—when you get it.”

  “Where shall we go first, to find the answer?” Irene asked.

  “Oh, I’ve already figured that out, too,” said Danny. “We’ll consult an authority.”

  “You mean Professor Bullfinch?”

  “Oh, no. I mean my mother.”

  “No kidding?” said Joe. “I’d never have guessed it.”

  “Guessed what?” asked Danny.

  “That your mother was a flier.”

  “She’s not a flier.”

  “Oh.” Joe rubbed his chin. “Well, neither am I. So why not consult me? Then we won’t have to walk all the way downstairs.”

  “My mother isn’t a flier, but her cousin, Charles Matthews, is,” Danny explained. “And,” he added casually, “I know she’s baking brownies, so if we go downstairs—”

  Joe was already halfway to the door.

  When they came trooping into the kitchen, Mrs. Dunn sighed heavily. She pushed a lock of hair as red as Danny’s out of her eyes and said, “I have always felt that children have a kind of sixth sense, a mysterious way of mind reading that tells them when something good has just come out of the oven. Now I know it.”

  “Why, Mom?” Danny said innocently. “Have you just baked something?”

  Mrs. Dunn took up a knife and began cutting into a pan of sweetly fragrant chocolate brownies. “Sit down,” she said. “And try not to get crumbs all over my clean floor.”

  “Well, actually, we came downstairs to ask you about something else,” Danny said. “But if you’re going to force us to eat—”

  “Delicious,” Joe mumbled, with his mouth full.

  “They’re lovely,” said Irene. “Thank you, Mrs. Dunn.”

  “You’re the best cook in the world, Mom,” Danny said.

  “Oh, go on with you,” said Mrs. Dunn, smiling. “Now that you’ve flattered me, what was it you wanted?”

  “We’ve got to do some research about flying,” said Danny. “I thought maybe we could go see your cousin, Mr. Matthews.”

  “Well, that’s easy enough. I’ll call Charles right now, and see if he’s home.”

  Mrs. Dunn went to the phone.

  Joe cleared his throat, and said, “While we’re waiting, Mrs. Dunn—”

  “Yes, you
may have another brownie,” said Mrs. Dunn, dialing the number.

  Danny rested his chin on his palms and gazed at his friend. “Where do you get your appetite from?” he asked.

  “I didn’t get it from anywhere,” said Joe. “It came with me. Do you want those crumbs on your plate?”

  Mrs. Dunn returned from telephoning with a slip of paper. “Here’s my cousin’s address,” she said. “He lives on Myrtle Street, on the other side of the university. Jane—his wife—said he’s due home in a little while, but you can go over now and wait for him.”

  Danny jumped to his feet. “Thanks, Mom,” he said. “Come on, Irene. Joe, you can bring the crumbs with you. Let’s go.”

  “Danny, dinner is at six,” Mrs. Dunn called, as they ran out the back door.

  * * * *

  Mrs. Matthews, a slender, pretty woman, had just finished baking ginger cookies. She sat the three friends around the kitchen table and put a plateful in front of them. Joe sighed happily.

  “What a beautiful day this has been,” he said. “Whom else shall we visit?”

  Mr. Matthews was tall and rawboned. He came home a few minutes after they had arrived, and shook hands with the young people with a rather mournful, absent-minded air which reminded Danny of Joe.

  “No cookies left for me?” he said. “No, don’t offer me one. They’re bad for my digestion.” He picked up a cookie, looked at it sadly, and bit into it. “I can’t resist them,” he added. “This one will probably kill me. How’s your mother, Dan?”

  “Fine, sir.”

  Irene watched Mr. Matthews pick up another cookie. “Oh, my,” she said, worriedly, “maybe you shouldn’t eat that one.”

  “There isn’t a thing wrong with his digestion, dear,” said Mrs. Matthews. “He’s just the tragic type.”

  “We came over,” Danny said, “because we want to find out what makes a plane fly.”

  “The pilot,” said Mr. Matthews promptly.

  Irene giggled.

  Danny said, “No, I mean we want to learn what keeps it up in the air. You see, we’re planning a demonstration for a science fair.”