The cook looked at the boys suspiciously, then said, “Say, Tom, what are these lil ole G’s you all talk about? They sure got me bothered. It ain’t natural.
Sounds like gangster talk or the FBI.”
Tom laughed at the way the puzzled cook wrinkled his forehead. “Sorry, Chow, you’re wrong on both counts. The term G is a unit of measure, like a pound of something or a dollar.”
“Of which I have too much of the first an’ not enough of the other-at least till payday!” Chow sighed.
“The G factor measures the basic attraction the earth has for a unit mass at the earth’s surface,” Tom continued. Then, smiling at Chow, he went on, “Now in your case, Chow, you have more mass than Bud or I, so the earth loves you more than it does us, and hangs on to you tighter.”
Chow snorted and said, “It kin hang onto me just as tight as it wants-the tighter the better!”
Tom and Bud laughed, and Tom resumed his explanation.
AN IMPORTANT CAPTURE 149
“Someday, Chow, bring a bathroom scale down to the plant and put it in the elevator. Weigh yourself, then press the button for the top floor.
“The faster the elevator starts, the more you weigh. Now, if the scale reading was twice as much as it was when you were standing still that would be a force of two G’s. When the Star Spear takes off, Bud and I may weigh ten times as much as we do right now-that would be a force of ten G’s.”
“I catch your meanin’,” Chow admitted. “An” I know I sure better stay here. I weigh too much already!” He laughed jovially. “Well, since I ain’t fixin’ to test how many G’s a lil ole outer-space flapjack kin handle, there’s no use o’ this old cowpoke goin’ with you.”