CHAPTER VII
Sighting Data
Steve's living room was an excellent place to work. In fact, it was ashade too comfortable. Rick and Scotty spent a half hour arguing overwho would do what in putting their data down on paper, and both knewperfectly well that they were just stalling.
Finally Rick said, "Let's admit it. We're both stuffed with crab, alittle sleepy, and too comfortable in these armchairs."
Scotty waved a hand languidly. "All right. I concede the point."
Steve Ames chuckled. "Suppose you move to less comfortable chairs. Thosedining-room chairs should keep you upright. Get to work and I will too."
The boys hauled themselves to their feet reluctantly. Rick walked to thedoor and looked out through the screen. He could see the creekglistening, and, out beyond the dock where the houseboat and runaboutwere tied up, he saw ripples spreading where a fish had jumped. The airwas still, and he could hear cicadas in the trees and shrubs.
"This is the land of pleasant living," he observed. "I'm surprisedanyone on the Eastern Shore ever gets a lick of work done."
"You certainly don't," Scotty retorted. "Come on over here and stopadmiring the scenery."
Steve had produced large sheets of white paper, a ruler, and pencils.Rick sat down. "I'll act as recorder."
"Volunteering for the hardest job?" Scotty inquired. "The air must beaffecting you."
"Nope." Rick shook his head. "I have just enough energy left to berealistic. I can't read your writing. Suppose I put down the headings.Location, date of sighting, time of sighting, direction of sighting,number of persons who saw object. What else?"
"Description," Scotty suggested. "Maybe that ought to be in two parts.One for shape and one for color."
Rick nodded. "Good idea. I'll rule lines as we go." He drew lines forthe columns, printed his headings, and put in the first severalhorizontal lines. "Ready," he announced.
"We'll start with the first one. Location: five miles south of Wye Millson Route 50."
Rick printed: "5M S Wye Mls Rte 50."
"Date of sighting, July 10. Time of sighting, between five and six inthe evening."
Rick printed industriously. Scotty read from his notes until over twentylines of information had been printed on the chart. Then Steveinterrupted, bringing a tray of tall glasses of iced ginger ale.
The young agent put the tray down and scanned the columns while the boyshelped themselves. In a moment Steve nodded. "There's a pattern takingshape, at least in the descriptions. But I can't make much out of thedates and locations, yet."
"We'll keep plugging," Rick said. "Maybe we'll need to rearrange thecolumns before they make sense."
"You have a point," Steve agreed. "Use the chart for the source, then wecan fill out sheets on the individual items, or I have somefour-by-five-inch file cards that would be ideal."
"But we'll be at it all night," Scotty objected.
"I don't think so. Once the basic data are on paper, it will go fast.Keep at it. Yell if you want refills on the ginger ale. I need to finishmy own homework."
The boys returned to logging the data while Steve settled down with abulky report. In another hour the notebook had been exhausted, and thebig sheet of paper was nearly full of ruled lines and columns, recordingdata.
"We're done," Rick announced.
Steve put his report aside and joined them at the table. The boys waitedexpectantly while the agent scanned the sheet.
"You've done a good job of collecting information," Steve said. "Now itneeds breaking down some more. The mixture in the 'color' column bothersme. I have a hunch those colors may be related to the position of thesun. Look."
Rick watched as Steve's forefinger touched a line that showed the coloras "dark." The finger moved across the line to the time of day, elevenA.M. Steve pointed to another line where the color was listed as"orange." The time of day was seven fifteen P.M., with an additionalnote of "twilight."
"Got it," Scotty agreed. "You think the objects may actually be dark,but appear in various colors depending on the position of the sun andthe position of the viewer."
"It makes sense," Rick agreed. "All of the colors listed--red, orange,silvery, bright--could be reflections of the sun on a smooth object."
Steve walked to a bookshelf and pulled down a copy of _The WorldAlmanac_. "Sunrise and sunset times are listed in here. You can figureout quickly enough where the sun was in relation to the observer. Itwill take another sheet of paper and some more columns."
"You gave us an extra sheet," Rick replied. "How should I head thecolumns?"
Steve thought for a moment. "Three columns for the position of the sun.Rising, high, setting. Four columns for the position of the observer inrelation to the flying object--north, south, east, or west. One columnfor color, and one for other comments such as 'shiny.' And, of course,you want a column for the time."
Rick recorded the data as Scotty read it off, checking _The WorldAlmanac_ for the sun's approximate positions. Steve was obviouslyinterested. He started to read his report again, then abandoned it andcame back to the table where the boys were working.
When the data had been transferred, the three studied it. Rick ran hiseye down the columns quickly, getting an impression, then he went overthe data slowly. "You're right, Steve," he said finally. "It alltallies, even at a quick look. In every case where the object lookedcolored, the observer saw the sun striking it. Where it looked dark, theobject was between the observer and the sun. Or, at least, the observerwasn't in a position to see the sun reflect off the object."
Scotty added, "In every case where the object looked red or orange, thesun was setting or had already set. In every case marked 'bright,''silvery,' or 'shiny,' the sun was high and the observer could see thesun reflecting from the object."
"It seems pretty clear," Steve agreed. "Now, we have only one reallyclose-range sighting, and that was Rick's. How sure are you that theobject was black?"
Rick shrugged. "I know enough not to trust my eyes completely in windand rain. But there certainly wasn't any light to reflect off theobject, and I'm pretty sure it was either black or very dark brown."
"That would fit all the sightings," Steve pointed out. "I'm assumingthat the objects have a smooth surface that reflects light, even thoughthe material may be dark colored. Didn't you suggest a kite made of darkplastic? That would fit the bill, except that the objects don't act likekites."
"What do they act like?" Scotty demanded.
Neither Steve nor Rick had an answer.
"Let's try for another piece of information," Steve suggested. "Put thedates down on cards. If you have sightings by different people on thesame dates, and at about the same times, put them on the same card. Ifthere's a big time discrepancy--say one sighting in the morning andanother in the afternoon--put them on different cards."
Rick looked up. "What are you trying to find?"
"Periodicity," Steve said promptly. "Is there any regularity in thesightings? Do they occur every three, four, or five days, or once a weekon Mondays? Which reminds me. You might put down the day of the week,too. There's a calendar on the wall behind you."
"You read and I'll copy," Rick told Scotty. "Go ahead." He waited withpencil poised over a card. In a moment he looked at his pal. "What areyou waiting for?"
Scotty was poring over the notebook again. His eyebrows knit. "You know,there's one chunk of data on just a few sightings that we didn't putdown because we didn't have a column for it."
"What is it?" Steve asked.
"I know!" Rick exclaimed. "There were a few times when people said theysaw yellow glows in the sky after they saw the objects. Isn't that it?"
Scotty nodded. "I've been counting. There were five instances. Twopeople said the glow wasn't really connected, because it came fromWallops Island."
"Why on earth didn't you include it in the chart?" Steve demanded.
"It doesn't fit," Scotty replied. "In every single case, the glow was tothe southeast."
"Ma
ybe it does fit," Steve said emphatically. "Boys, never leave out abit of data because it doesn't seem to fit. This particular chunk couldvery well be the clue."
"Why?" Rick asked quickly.
Steve shook his head. "I'm not sure, so I don't want to say. But includeevery sighting of the yellow glow on the date cards. I'm going to borrowthat set for a closer look."
Scotty began reading, while Rick recorded. When the cards were complete,they ran through them. There was no periodicity. The dates seemedcompletely random. Sometimes two sightings had been made at differenttimes on the same date. There would be two days, three, four, five, oreven six between sightings.
"Not a trace of pattern," Rick said.
"Who says stingarees have to fly on schedule?" Steve asked with a grin."They're not supposed to be like planes. What's the next step?"
Scotty produced the map they had used. "One more job to do, and that'sto plot the locations of the observers and draw lines in the directionsof the sightings. That will show us if there's any regularity in theplace where the flying objects appear."
"Very good," Steve approved.
Scotty took pencil and ruler and laid the map out flat. "You readlocation and direction, Rick, and I'll plot the data."
"Okay." Rick began with the first. "Five miles south of Wye Mills onRoute 50. Direction, southwest."
Scotty measured the distance from Wye Mills, using the map scale ininches, then estimated the compass direction and drew a line. "Next."
Rick read on. By the time he had reached the tenth sighting, all threeof them were waiting anxiously for each new bit of data to be plotted.
Finally the job was complete. Steve had hurried off a moment before andreturned with a pair of compasses in his hand. As the boys watched, heput the sharp point of one compass leg into a spot on the map, adjustedthe radius, and drew a perfect circle. He adjusted the radius again, anddrew a second circle, slightly larger, then a third.
"Bull's-eye!" Rick said excitedly.
The direction lines bisected the outer concentric circles like the radiiof an orb spider's web. In the center of the web was the smallestcircle. Within the circle was the focal point of all flying objectobservations.
Rick said the name aloud.
"Swamp Creek!"