ROCKET SHIP GALILEO By Robert A. Heinlein

His first feeling of frightened sympathy for the wounded man was beginning to be replaced by a feeling of injustice done him. What was the guy doing there anyhow? It wasn’t just.

“Let me have a look at this guy,” he said.

“Don’t touch him,” Morrie warned.

“I won’t. Got your pocket flash?” It was becoming quite dark in the clearing.

“Sure. Here . . . catch.” Art took the little flashlight and tried to examine the face of their victim-hard to do, as he was almost face down and the side of his face that was visible was smeared with blood.

Presently Art said in an odd tone of voice, “Morrie-would it hurt anything to wipe some of this blood away?”

“You’re dern tootin’ it would! You let him be till the doctor comes.”

“All right, all right. Anyhow I don’t need to — I’m sure anyhow. Morrie, I know who he is.”

“You do? Who?”

“He’s my uncle.”

“Your uncle!”

“Yes, my uncle. You know-the one I’ve told you about. He’s my Uncle Don. Doctor Donald Cargraves, my `Atomic Bomb’ uncle.”

Chapter 2: A MAN-SIZED CHALLENGE

“At least I’m pretty sure it’s my uncle,” Art went on. “I could tell for certain if I could see his whole face.”

“Don’t you know whether or not he’s your uncle? After all, a member of your own family-”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since he came through here to see Mother, just after the war. That’s been a long time. I was just a kid then. But it looks like him.”

“But he doesn’t look old enough,” Morrie said judiciously. “I should think- Here comes the ambulance!”

It was indeed, with Ross riding with the driver to show him the road and the driver cussing the fact that the road existed mostly in Ross’s imagination. They were all too busy for a few minutes, worrying over the stranger as a patient, to be much concerned with his identity as an individual. “Doesn’t look too bad,” the interne that rode with the ambulance announced. “Nasty scalp wound. Maybe concussion, maybe not. Now over with him- easy! -while I hold his head.” When turned face up and lifted into the stretcher, the patient’s eyes flickered; he moaned and seemed to try to say something. The doctor leaned over him.

Art caught Morrie’s eye and pressed a thumb and forefinger together. There was no longer any doubt as to the man’s identity, now that Art had seen his face.

Ross started to climb back in the ambulance but the interne waved him away. “But all of you boys show up at the hospital. We’ll have to make out an accident report on this.”

As soon as the ambulance lumbered away Art told Ross about his discovery. Ross looked startled. “Your uncle, eh? Your own uncle. What was he doing here?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know he was in town.”

“Say, look- I hope he’s not hurt bad, especially seeing as how he’s your uncle — but is this the uncle, the one you were telling us about who has been mentioned for the Nobel Prize?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. He’s my Uncle Donald Cargraves.”

“Doctor Donald Cargraves!,” Ross whistled. “Jeepers! When we start slugging people we certainly go after big game, don’t we?”

“It’s no laughing matter. Suppose he dies? What’ll I tell my mother?”

“I wasn’t laughing. Let’s get over to the hospital and find out how bad he’s hurt before you tell her anything. No use in worrying her unnecessarily.” Ross sighed, “I guess we might as well break the news to my folks. Then I’ll drive us over to the hospital.”

“Didn’t you tell them when you telephoned?” Morrie asked. “No. They were out in the garden, so I just phoned and then leaned out to the curb to wait for the ambulance. They may have seen it come in the drive but I didn’t wait to find out.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t.”

Ross’s father was waiting for them at the house. He answered their greetings, then said, “Ross-”

“Yes, sir?”

“I heard an explosion down toward your private stamping ground. Then I saw an ambulance drive in and drive away. What happened?”

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