s from ground zero.

* * * * *

Barney built a fire under the big, smoke-blackened cauldron Hetty used
for cooking the hog swill. Dale Hamilton, the county agent, had given
Hetty a long talk on the dangers of feeding the pigs, raw, uncooked and
possibly contaminated, garbage. When Hamilton got graphic about what
happened to people who ate pork from such hogs, Hetty turned politely
green and had Barney set up the cooking cauldron.

After dumping the kitchen slops into the pot, Barney hiked back across
the yard to get the two pails of bad milk.

Hetty was sitting at the kitchen table, putting the eggs into plastic
refrigerator dishes when the hog slop exploded in a whooshing roar,
followed a split second later by an even louder blast that rocked the
ranch buildings. The eggs flew across the room as the lid of the slop
cauldron came whistling through the kitchen window in a blizzard of
flying glass and buried itself, edgewise, in the wall over the stove.
Hetty slammed backwards headfirst into a heap of shattered eggs. A
torrent of broken plaster, and crockery fragments rained on her stunned
figure. Through dazed eyes, she saw a column of purple-reddish fire
rising from the yard.

A woman who has been thrown twenty-three times from a pitching bronco
and kicked five times in the process, doesn't stay dazed long. Pawing
dripping egg yokes and plaster from her face, Hetty Thompson struggled
to her feet and staggered to the kitchen door.

"Barneeey," she bawled, "you all right?"

The column of weird-colored flame had quickly died and only a few
flickering pieces of wood from the cauldron fire burned in scattered
spots about the yard. Of the cauldron, there wasn't a sign.

"Barney," she cried anxiously, "where are you?"

"Here I am, Miz Thompson." Barney's blackened face peered around the
corner of the tractor shed. "You O.K., Miz Thompson?"

"What in thunderation happened?" Hetty called out. "You try to build a
fire with dynamite for kindling?"

Shaken but otherwise unharmed, Barney painfully limped over to the
ranch house porch.

"Don't ask me what happened, m'am," he said. "I just poured that milk
into the slop pot and then put the lid back on and walked off. I heered
this big '_whoosh_' and turned around in time to see the lid fly off
and the kettle begin to tip into the fire and then there was one
helluva blast. It knocked me clean under the tractor shed." He fumbled
i