Half an hour later a new mannequin stood out in front of the bandstand. Its arms waved ceaselessly but it stood still. Nestled against its back was a ten gallon drum of gas, which would be exploded—blanketing most of the park in fumes—as soon as the mannequin was moved. Charles DeCrabbe waited, his mask ready, his potent weapons all reloaded.
Ninety minutes later the huge black menace arrived—either the first whirlybird or another forty-foot wind-screaming fury. Slipping his gas mask on, the man waited for the right moment to begin firing. The whirlybird swooped down, the tank exploded in a fog, and the giant wobbled!
DeCrabbe emptied all his weapons again. The bird arose, wobbling, its speed greatly impaired, but making its getaway despite all he could do.
"Damn well didn't coo that time," he said when the monster had reached the horizon. "Next time won't fly either."
But just then the monstrous bird mocked him in the distance with a loud, sweet, "Coo! Coo!"
Shortly after lunch he had it all set up. A new mannequin stood out in front of the bandstand, its arms waving and a pair of slim, gleaming, ten-gallon drums of stun gas nearby.
It was one o'clock before the third whirlybird struck.
Down it sank until it became a huge, ebony blot in the afternoon sky. Underneath the bandstand roof DeCrabbe got ready for his supreme effort. He slipped on his gas mask and made sure his N-ray flashburn gun was ready for instant action, its safety off. He was determined that if he got the bird prostrate he would climb aboard and fire N-ray bolts into it until something gave!
The huge black, wind-screaming monster plummeted the last few yards down and grabbed the mannequin. Both tanks of stun gas exploded. The giant whirlybird slumped unconscious—and DeCrabbe scrambled aboard!
The feverishly hurrying hunter was not long discovering why he had not—and never would—penetrate the bird's feathers with any of his weapons: He burrowed down into the feathers the length of his arm and there were yet more feathers beyond! A feather pillow would stop a rifle bullet, he knew, and this monster had the probable equivalent of a thousand feather pillows protecting it, invulnerable as a battleship.