escopic lenses and prayed for enough light, Dr. Peterson ignited the
little wad of cloth. He peered behind to check for obstructions and
then, with the wrist-flicking motion of the devoted and expert
fisherman, made his cast. The tiny torch made a blurred, whipping
streak of light and dropped unerringly into the pie plate in the middle
of the yard.

The photographers had all the light they needed!

The night turned violet as a violent ball of purple fire reared and
boiled into the darkened sky. The flash bathed the entire ranch
headquarters and the packed cars and throngs outside the fence in the
strange brilliance. The heat struck the dumfounded scientist and young
rancher like the suddenly-opened door of a blast furnace.

It was over in a second as the fire surged and then winked out. The
sudden darkness blinded them despite the unchanged power of the
television and military floodlights still focused on the yard.
Pandemonium erupted from the ranks of newsmen and photographers who had
witnessed the dazzling demonstration.

Peterson stared in awe at the slightly smoking and warped pie tin.
"Well, cut out my tongue and call me Oppenheimer," he exclaimed.

"That was just the milk," Johnny said. "You know of a good safe place
we could try it out with one of those eggs? I'd be afraid to test 'em
anywhere around here after what happened to Hetty this morning."

* * * * *

An hour later, a military helicopter chewed its way into the night,
carrying three gallons of Sally's milk from the ranch to Nellis AFB
where a jet stood ready to relay the sealed cannister to the AEC
laboratories at Albuquerque.

In the ranch house living room Peterson had set up headquarters and an
Army field telephone switchboard was in operation across the room.

An AEC security man was running the board. Hetty had decided that one
earthquake a day was enough and had gone to bed. Barney bewildered but
happily pleased at so much company, sat on the edge of a chair and
avidly watched and listened, not understanding a thing he saw or heard.
At the back of the room, Johnny hunched over Big Jim Thompson's
roll-top desk, working up a list of supplies he would need to repair
the damages from the week's growing list of explosions.

Peterson and three of his staff members were in lengthy consultation at
a big table in the middle of the room. The Army field phone at
Peterson's elbow jangled.

Across the room,