Danny Dunn and the Weather Machine Read Free

tea makes you perspire. The moisture on your skin evaporates. When moisture evaporates, it takes heat from surrounding areas, so your skin feels cool.”
    â€œWell, it doesn’t seem to cool me much,” grumbled Joe, who was sitting with his back to the open window. “I’m hot. Even the wind feels hot on my neck.”
    â€œOh, Joe, you’re always complaining,” said Irene. “Mr. Elswing, tell us some more about what you do in the weather station.”
    But before the meteorologist could speak, Joe said in a trembling voice, “Danny.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDid you see that horror movie on TV— Wolf Man of London ?”
    Danny looked at his friend in astonishment.
    â€œDo you remember that guy in the picture who turned into a werewolf?” Joe went on.
    â€œSure. Why?”
    â€œBecause that hot wind I feel—is him, breathing down my neck!”

CHAPTER THREE
    Mr. Elswing Changes
    The others sprang up from the table in alarm. A huge, hairy head was peering in through the open window behind Joe. It was tan-and-white, and had mournful brown eyes.
    â€œWhy, Joe,” Irene cried, “how can you call it a werewolf? It’s a cute little puppy!”
    They could now see that it was a Saint Bernard dog, standing outside with its chin resting on the window sill. At Irene’s words, it seemed to smile, and an immense tail began wagging back and forth so that a real breeze came into the room.
    â€œThat’s Vanderbilt,” Mr. Elswing said. “He’s not exactly a puppy, though.”
    Irene went over and patted the big head. “I think he’s sweet,” she said defiantly. “Cute ol’ dog. Did the nasty boy call ’um names?”
    â€œUgh!” Joe said, rolling up his eyes. “Women!”
    Danny got up. “You’ll have to tear yourself away from that lap dog, Irene.” he said. “It’s almost suppertime, and we’ve got a long walk back.”
    He looked around once more, at the busily chattering teletype, at the instrument dials, the charts and maps and photos of cloud formations. “It must be fun to be a weatherma—er—a meteorologist,” he sighed. “Can we come again, Mr. Elswing?”
    â€œAny time you like,” said the tall man. “Always glad to have visitors. And if you’re really interested, we can always use volunteer observers.”
    â€œYou mean, to help you here?” Danny asked eagerly.
    â€œTo measure rainfall and snow, at your own home, and give us regular reports, which act as a check on our own measurements. Think it over.”
    â€œI will,” said Danny.
    He and his friends shook hands once more with the meteorologist. Then they left the weather station and walked through the gates of the airfield, and down to Washington Avenue, the wide street that led past Midston University and back to the center of town.
    Suddenly Joe said, “Don’t you hear a noise like padding feet?”
    They stopped. Behind them there was a sound like that of a locomotive chuffing, and the slap of heavy paws on the pavement.
    â€œA footpad,” said Joe.
    â€œIt’s Vanderbilt. He’s trailing us like a wolf,” Dan said.
    â€œYou mean like a whole pack of wolves,” Joe said sourly.
    â€œJoe, you stop that,” said Irene. “How would you like it if I talked about you that way?” She put her arms around the Saint Bernard’s neck. “He just followed us because I said a kind word to him.”
    â€œWell, you’d better say a kind good-bye to him,” Danny put in. “Mr. Elswing’s probably looking for him now.”
    â€œGo home, Vanderbilt,” Irene said, pointing back toward the airfield. “I’ll come and visit you again, soon.”
    The dog did not move. He just stood and looked lovingly at Irene, panting heavily with his tongue hanging out.
    â€œMaybe we could ride him back,”