, he took two of the fins in his hands
and pulled on them. The rotation and the music stopped as the tailpiece
of the rocket fell open. Elvin's mind cleared as he looked into a tiny
chamber capped by a small rectangular sheet of metal which was dotted
with tiny globes of a translucent material. Gingerly he picked up the
seal.

As he touched the metal, a strange sensation, like a flood of jumbled
words, tumbled through his mind. The feeling was neither unpleasant nor
frightening. He was tempted to relax and enjoy it; and he would have, if
he had not been distracted by a second object in the chamber. He thrust
the strip of metal into the pocket of his coat.

Elvin's second find was a small, transparent cylinder, filled with tiny,
multi-colored spheres, exactly like a jar of hard candy. There was
nothing else in the rocket, except for the motor built into the
tailpiece. The blue glow of the rocket began to fade.

Vaguely Elvin became aware that something was amiss. He began to suspect
that he had stumbled upon something more than a stray rocket from Muroc.
He wanted to tell somebody about it. Clutching the cylinder of colored
balls he ran back to the house.

The party had reached one of its numerous climaxes. The hall was jammed
with chattering high school students. They swirled in a flood around
Mrs. Schermerhorn, who seemed to be enjoying herself as much as they
were.

Gary Elvin grabbed her arm. "I've found a rocket!" he cried.

"Rocket?" she frowned for a moment, and then smiled brightly. "Oh, the
racket. Yes, but they do have so much energy, don't they?"

He held up the cylinder. "This was in it!"

"Oh, you found it, Mr. Elvin. We looked high and low; now we--"

"It was in the rocket."

"... now we can have our contest."

Desperately a new idea occurred to him. "Can you get these kids quiet? I
want to 'phone."

"But it's so early, Mr. Elvin. We can't expect them to go home yet."

"No, Mrs. Schermerhorn. 'Phone. I want to telephone!"

"Oh. Yes; of course. We'll have our contest in the living room."

* * * * *

Gary Elvin wormed his way toward the closet under the stairway. It was a
very small telephone alcove, not designed for utility. Yet he found he
could shut out some of the din if he jackknifed himself against the
slanting wall and held the door partly shut.

But it required the use of both his hands. He set the cylinder on a
bookcase in the hall and squeezed into