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289
Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930
·
Various
4
Gunga
chuckled.
"What's
the
matter?"
Forepaugh
barked.
"Going
crazy
already?"
"Me,
haw!
Me,
haw!
Me
thinkin',"
Gunga
rumbled.
"Haw!
We
got,
haw!
plenty
hydr'gen."
He
pointed
to
the
low
metal
roof
of
the
trading
station.
Though
it
was
well
insulated
against
sound,
the
place
continually
vibrated
to
the
low
murmur
of
the
Inranian
rains
that
fell
interminably
through
the
perpetual
polar
day.
It
was
a
rain
such
as
is
never
seen
on
Earth,
even
in
the
tropics.
It
came
in
drops
as
large
as
a
man's
fist.
It
came
in
streams.
It
came
in
large,
shattering
masses
that
broke
before
they
fell
and
filled
the
air
with
spray.
There
was
little
wind,
but
the
steady
green
downpour
of
water
and
the
brilliant
continuous
flashing
of
lightning
shamed
the
dull
soggy
twilight
produced
by
the
large,
hot,
but
hidden
sun.
"Your
idea
of
a
joke!"
Forepaugh
growled
in
disgust.
He
understood
what
Gunga's
grim
pleasantry
referred
to.
There
was
indeed
an
incalculable
quantity
of
hydrogen
at
hand.
If
some
means
could
be
found
to
separate
the
hydrogen
atoms
from
the
oxygen
in
the
world
of
water
around
them
they
would
not
lack
for
fuel.
He
thought
of
electrolysis,
and
relaxed
with
a
sigh.
There
was
no
power.
The
generators
were
dead,
the
air
drier
and
cooler
had
ceased
its
rhythmic
pulsing
nearly
an
hour
ago.
Their
lights
were
gone,
and
the
automatic
radio
utterly
useless.
"This
is
what
comes
of
putting
all
your
eggs
in
one
basket,"
he
thought,
and
let
his
mind
dwell
vindictively
on
the
engineers
who
had
designed
the
equipment
on
which
his
life
depended.
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