Russ put down his plate and massaged the thick stubble on his chin. Then he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. It startled Sandy, for he knew that his uncle never smoked cigarettes, except when he was under extreme tension.
“They don’t think so,” he replied, emphasizing the verb. “But there are so many things we still don’t know about atomic energy. And of course, there’s always the chance the casing was damaged in some unpredictable way so that—oh, it’s only a billion-in-one chance.”
Jerry suddenly lost his appetite. “That’s just what they said in the papers that time a comet landed right in some lady’s bed.”
“Not a comet, you dope,” Quiz said disgustedly. “It must have been a meteorite.”
Jerry glowered at him. “So what? It happened.”
Russ offered Prince the rest of the food in his plate and the dog gobbled it up eagerly. “Well, speculation won’t get us anywhere. The important thing is to get that fire under control first.”
Quiz stretched out flat on his back in the dry, soft grass. “The most important thing to me is sleep. I wouldn’t care if an A-bomb went off right under my nose.”
Jerry snorted. “I kept expecting that to happen all night.”
Russ smiled. “I tell you what. There’s a small brook down the hill a ways. Why don’t you go down there and wash up? Then stretch out on the pine needles and take a snooze.”
“Good idea,” Sandy agreed. He looked at his watch. “It’s eight o’clock now. Wake us up at two—that will give us six hours’ sleep. Unless you need us for anything, of course.”