“Take a look at it, son. What do you think it is?”
Joe wandered over from his place in front of the tent. Tom studied the fragments in his hand. “Whatever it is, it’s hard,” he said. “Couldn’t be a diamond that big. Looks like metal. Do you think we’ve bored into a buried locomotive?”
His father laughed. “Thirty feet down,” he said admiringly.
“It looks like tool steel,” said Tom. “We haven’t got anything that can touch it.” Then he saw the faraway joyous look on his father’s face and a shiver of shared delight came to him. The Hamilton children loved it when their father’s mind went free. Then the world was peopled with wonders.
Samuel said, “Metal, you say. You think, steel. Tom, I’m going to make a guess and then I’m going to get an assay. Now hear my guess—and remember it. I think we’ll find nickel in it, and silver maybe, and carbon and manganese. How I would like to dig it up! It’s in sea sand. That’s what we’ve been getting.”
Tom said, “Say, what do you think it is with—nickel and silver—”
“It must have been long thousand centuries ago,” Samuel said, and his sons knew he was seeing it. “Maybe it was all water here—an inland sea with the seabirds circling and crying. And it would have been a pretty thing if it happened at night. There would come a line of light and then a pencil of white light and then a tree of blinding light drawn in a long arc from heaven. Then there’d be a great water spout and a big mushroom of steam. And your ears would be staggered by the sound because the soaring cry of its coming would be on you at the same time the water exploded. And then it would be black night again, because of the blinding light. And gradually you’d see the killed fish coming up, showing silver in the starlight, and the crying birds would come to eat them. It’s a lonely, lovely thing to think about, isn’t it?”
He made them see it as he always did.
Tom said softly, “You think it’s a meteorite, don’t you?”
“That I do. and we can prove it by assay.”
Joe said eagerly, “Let’s dig it up.”
“You dig it, Joe, while we bore for water.”
Tom said seriously, “If the assay showed enough nickel and silver, wouldn’t it pay to mine it?”
“You’re my own son,” said Samuel. “We don’t know whether it’s big as a house or little as a hat.”
“But we could probe down and see.”
“That we could if we did it secretly and hid our thinking under a pot.”
“Why, what do you mean?”
“Now, Tom, have you no kindness toward your mother? We give her enough trouble, son. She’s told me plain that if I spend any more money patenting things, she’ll give us trouble to remember. Have pity on her! Can’t you see her shame when they ask her what we’re doing? She’s a truthful woman, your mother. She’d have to say, ‘They’re at digging up a star.’ ” He laughed happily. “She’d never live it down. And she’d make us smart. No pies for three months.”
Tom said, “We can’t get through it. We’ll have to move to another place.”
“I’ll put some blasting powder down,” said his father, “and if that doesn’t crack it aside we’ll start a new hole.” He stood up. “I’ll have to go home for powder and to sharpen the drill. Why don’t you boys ride along with me and we’ll give Mother a surprise so that she’ll cook the whole night and complain. That way she’ll dissemble her pleasure.”
Joe said, “Somebody’s coming, coming fast.” And indeed they could see a horseman riding toward them at full gallop, but a curious horseman who flopped about on his mount like a tied chicken. When he came a little closer they saw that it was Lee, his elbows waving like wings, his queue lashing about like a snake. It was surprising that he stayed on at all and still drove the horse at full tilt. He pulled up, breathing heavily. “Missy Adam say come! Missy Cathy bad—come quick. Missy yell, scream.”
Samuel said, “Hold on, Lee. When did it start?”
“Mebbe bleakfus time.”
“All right. Calm yourself. How is Adam?”
“Missy Adam clazy. Cly—laugh—make vomit.”
“Sure,” said Samuel. “These new fathers. I was one once. Tom, throw a saddle on for me, will you?”
Joe said, “What is it?”
“Why, Mrs. Trask is about to have her baby. I told Adam I’d stand by.”
“You?” Joe asked.
Samuel leveled his eyes on his youngest son. “I brought both of you into the world,” he said. “And you’ve given no evidence you think I did a bad service to the world. Tom, you get all the tools gathered up. And go back to the ranch and sharpen the metal. Bring back the box of powder that’s on the shelf in the tool shed, and go easy with it as you love your arms and legs. Joe, I want you to stay here and look after things.”
Joe said plaintively, “But what will I do here alone?”
Samuel was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Joe, do you love me?”
“Why, sure.”
“If you heard I’d committed some great crime would you turn me over to the police?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Would you?”
“No.”
“All right then. In my basket, under my clothes, you’ll find two books—new, so be gentle with them. It’s two volumes by a man the world is going to hear from. You can start reading if you want and it will raise up your lid a little. It’s called The Principles of Psychology and it’s by an Eastern man named William James. No relative to the train robber. And, Joe, if you ever let on about the books I’ll run you off the ranch. If your mother ever found out I spent the money on them she’d run me off the ranch.”
Tom led a saddled horse to him. “Can I read it next?”
“Yes,” said Samuel, and he slipped his leg lightly over the saddle. “Come on, Lee.”
The Chinese wanted to break into a gallop but Samuel restrained him. “Take it easy, Lee. Birthing takes longer than you think, mostly.”
For a time they rode in silence, and then Lee said, “I’m sorry you bought those books. I have the condensed form, in one volume, the textbook. You could have borrowed it.”
“Have you now? Do you have many books?”