Something of the wonder that must have come to men seeking magic in the sky in days long vanished.
nlight again before Pigtail could make a grab for him.
Out on the deck and running along the deck toward Uncle Al. He was still running when the first blast came.
* * * * *
It didn't sound like a shotgun blast. The deck shook and a big swirl of smoke floated straight toward Jimmy, half blinding him and blotting Uncle Al from view.
When the smoke cleared Jimmy could see the Harmon shantyboat. It was less than thirty feet away now, drifting straight past and rocking with the tide like a topheavy flatbarge.
On the deck Jed Harmon was crouching down, his gaunt face split in a triumphant smirk. Beside him Joe Harmon stood quivering like a mound of jelly, a stick of dynamite in his hand, his flabby face looking almost gentle in the slanting sunlight.
There was a little square box at Jed Harmon's feet. As Joe pitched Jed reached into the box for another dynamite stick. Jed was passing the sticks along to his brother, depending on wad dynamite to silence Uncle Al forever.
A rather silly story written in generic hillbilly dialect about a boy and his family living on a boat on the Mississippi who sees a flying saucer. The ending is dumb.
This story is rushed and you get the feeling the author would rather have been writing about life on the river than flying saucers because the sci-fi element is minimal and presented with no enthusiasm at all.
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