ator.

"Now, Senator ..." began Jordan.

But the bullhorn above them drowned out everything and effectively
stalled the plans of the Hibernians by announcing in deafening syllables
that everyone was to clear the launch area.

In the distance Jordan observed dozens of tiny figures scuttling from
the gleaming Vanguard toward something that looked vaguely like a turtle
but which he had heard was called a blockhouse.

"I think," he said in unutterable relief, "that we're about ready to
launch."

Jordan finally found Clements in the milling throng. They stood at the
balcony rail staring fixedly at the Vanguard as the count progressed
downward with what seemed dreadful slowness.

"How long _is_ a second, anyway?" growled Jordan peevishly.

The countdown proceeded to minus twenty minutes ... minus fifteen
minutes. Then came the quick announcement, "The count is T minus twelve
minutes and holding."

"Twelve minutes and holding?" repeated Jordan jumpily. "What does that
mean?"

"It means," answered Clements with just a touch of superiority, "that
they have stopped the count at T minus twelve minutes because something
is wrong. It will delay the launch."

* * * * *

Jordan wrung his hands fretfully.

"Something wrong? I never heard of such a thing. What could possibly go
wrong?"

"Oh," ventured Clements, "I suppose there are a few things about this
rocket that could fail to function under unusual circumstances." He
snubbed out his cigarette. "After all, your watch stops sometimes,
doesn't it?"

"Sometimes," Jordan admitted sourly, "but never at T minus twelve
minutes."

After a short time the bullhorn shook the area with the news that the
count had resumed. Jordan borrowed Clements' binoculars and stared
fixedly at the abandoned Vanguard. Suddenly he started violently. "My
God, Clem," he yelled, "it's on fire! There's smoke flying out right
there in the middle. Look!"

Clements took a quick glance.

"Relax, chief," he said reassuringly. "It's oxygen coming from a vent.
They can't seal the oxygen tank till just before launch, or it'll blow
up."

"Oh, it can't blow up," quavered Jordan, going to pieces. "But it will.
I feel it in my bones. It's going to blow up ... ker BOOM!"

Clements patted him on the back.

"Stop worrying, chief. It's going to work just fine. You wait and see."

Jordan shook his head in disbelief. "kerBOOM!" he said faintly.

The bullhorn announced T