When the rods were installed, Tom flipped a lever. He watched the gauge needle creep slowly around its dial as hydraulic pressure built up inside the machine. Soon the sample rods were being subjected to enormous stress. One was being pulled at each end to test its tensile strength. Another was being compressed under crushing pressure. Still another was being bent, while a fourth was being twisted.
“I don’t see much happening,” said Sandy in a puzzled voice.
Tom grinned. “Neither do I-and that’s good. It means the stuff is as strong as I had hoped.”
His jubilation increased as the torture tests CRUCIAL PRESSURE TEST 65
continued. When the rods were removed from the machine and measured, they showed only a small amount of deformation!
“Boy! Looks as if you really have something here, skipper!” said Bud excitedly. “Have you named the stuff as yet?”
Tom grinned. “I had thought of calling it Durastress. How do you like that?”
Before anyone could comment, the telephone rang. Tom picked it up, spoke for a moment, then handed it to Sandy. “For you, Sis. Orton Throme.”
“Just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the picnic the other day,” the painter said, loudly enough for the others to hear.
“We enjoyed having you join us, Ort,” said Sandy. She threw a glance at Bud, who reddened a bit and pretended to be engrossed in examining the test rods.
“I’d like you all to be my guests this evening,” the painter went on. “The food will be simple, but I’m really a pretty good cook. Perhaps your brother could come along. I’d like to meet him.”