It was ten-thirty and long past Gus
Wilson's usual quitting time when a pair of dim and doleful headlights
turned in to the Model Garage and a 1940's sedan pulling a trailer limped
up. Three teen-age boys and a middle-aged man hopped out.
"We're having battery trouble," the
tallest of the boys said. Throwing an impatient look at the middle-aged man,
he added, "Again!"
The man came forward, his eyes behind
his rimless spectacles as dim and doleful as the headlights of the car. He
removed his felt hat and scratched the fringe circling his bald head.
"I fear there is something very wrong
with my battery," he said in a precise voice. "Although it is virtually
brand-new, this is the third time in three days we have been compelled to
have it recharged."
"Sounds like a short," said Gus
easily. He lifted the hood and began probing around with his flashlight.
There was a familiar hot-insulation smell, but it was too faint to pinpoint.
The little man peered over Gus's
shoulder. Three pairs of youthful eyes followed the beam of Gus's light.
The boy who had first spoken said,
"Mr. Wismer, would it be a good idea to find some place to spend the night,
since we may be stuck here for quite a while?"
"An excellent notion," exclaimed the
man. "I'll do that right away."
"Might try the Commercial Hotel," Gus
suggested over his shoulder. "I have a couple of rooms there and it's mighty
comfortable."
"Thank you. Do you have a phone?"
"Right by the door," Gus said without
looking up.
When Mr. Wismer was out of hearing,
one of the boys exclaimed, "The only good thing about this rig is Ned's
trailer."
The tall boy chuckled loftily.
"Thanks, Arnold. Made the whole thing myself," he explained to Gus. "Started
out with a front axle from the junk yard."
"So," said Gus. He loosened the clamps
on the battery cable. "We might as well give it a quick charge while we're
looking for the short."
"The Whizzer insisted we use his car,"
Ned told Gus. "Felt responsible. Didn't even want me to attach my trailer.
He was afraid something would go wrong. Something went wrong, all right, but
with his precious car, not my trailer."
Mr. Wismer returned from the phone. He
shook his head sadly. "No vacancies."
"Where are you bound for?" Gus
inquired, clipping on the leads from the quick charger and easing up the
charge-rate control.
"Williamsburg, Virginia," replied Ned.
"They're holding the finals of the National Early-American Crafts Exhibit
there tomorrow. All the winners of the state contests are competing. We're
representing our state. My trailer's full of our stuff."
"What time do you have to be there?"
"We have to check in not later than
tomorrow at seven p.m. At this rate we'll never make it."
Arnold, by this time tired and
discouraged, could contain his impatience no longer. "Gee, Mr. Wismer, I
should think you would have had your car checked before we left."
"I did, Arnold," replied Mr. Wismer
patiently. "Right after my last history class, the day before we left. I had
it thoroughly checked over."
"Probably had his wife sweep out the
back seat with a whisk broom," one of the boys muttered. Mr. Wismer didn't
hear him, but Gus did.
"Tell you what, boys," the proprietor
of the Model Garage suggested. "There's a hamburger joint across the street.
Why don't you run over and stoke up? It's going to be a long night. If you
took turns driving, you could get to Williamsburg easily by tomorrow
afternoon."
"Not with this old crate breaking down
every hundred miles," Ned retorted.
"Bring back a pair of hamburgers and
coffee for your teacher and me," said Gus. "While you're gone we'll scout
out the trouble."
The last statement elicited an
anonymous hoot as the boys turned and headed across the street.
"They don't have much faith in us, do
they?" Gus observed, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe.
Mr. Wismer coughed apologetically.
"They're pretty discouraged by now. You know how kids are. They think that
because I teach history, I don't know anything else."
Gus turned back to the car. He
couldn't help liking the little schoolteacher who stood beside him. He
rocked the trailer with his hand.
"Seems pretty sturdy," he said.
Mr. Wismer nodded. "Can't blame this
trouble on the trailer, I'm afraid."
Gus turned his flashlight on the
under-part of the trailer, ran it along the steel supports, over the wooden
body and back to the two tail lights.
"Where are these plugged in?" he
asked.
"On the other side," Mr. Wismer
replied. He led Gus to the left rear tail light. "Right here. Ned made an
attachment for plugging in the trailer lights."
Gus bent over and pulled the plug out.
The wire was suspiciously warm.
"I think we've found your trouble," he
said quietly. He examined the prongs of the plug and ran an expert eye along
the wires, which were stapled to the side of the trailer. He looked at the
bewildered little schoolteacher quizzically.
"What do you say we teach those young
smart alecks a lesson?" he suggested. "Do you mind a little deception - in
the interest of education?"
Mr. Wismer's pale eyes twinkled. "In
the interest of education, why not?"
A half-hour later, when the boys
returned, they found the garage dark and the doors locked. Gus had gone
home. Mr. Wismer was seated at the wheel studying a map by the illumination
of the dome light. He accepted the hamburger and coffee that the boys
proffered.
"Where did the garageman go?" one of
the boys asked.
"He recharged the battery and went
home," Mr. Wismer replied.
"Did he fix the trouble?" Ned asked.
"He just went home," Mr. Wismer said.
"That square didn't know anything
about cars," Arnold announced.
Mr. Wismer let that pass.
"We might as well get going," Ned
suggested. "We probably won't get far, but we can't sit here all night."
The boys piled in. Mr. Wismer
carefully folded the map and put it away. There was a moment or two of
silence as they waited for their teacher to start the car. Instead, Mr.
Wismer thoughtfully drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
"By the way, Ned," he said, "after the
garageman left, I took the liberty of going over the wiring on your
trailer."
The air was electric with surprise.
Ned was the first to find his voice. "Sir?" he ventured.
"I noticed that you grounded one of
your wires to the frame of the trailer."
"Y-yes, I did."
"And the frame of the trailer is
attached to the chassis of my car."
"That's right," said Ned.
"I also observed," Mr. Wismer went on,
trying not to show how much he was enjoying himself, "that one of the prongs
of your plug appears to carry current from the battery while the other goes
to the grounded wire. Is that right?"
"Why, yes, sir."
"Of course," Mr. Wismer said modestly,
"I'm only a history teacher and don't know anything about wiring, but" - he
paused; in all his teaching career he had never had quite so much attention
from his students - "but I probed around a bit, and I'm afraid, Ned, that
you overlooked something."
"But, Mr. Wismer," Ned protested,
"that's how you're supposed to wire them. You have to have a ground wire,
and ground wire--"
"The ground wire must be attached to
the frame," Mr. Wismer said.
"Yes . . ."
"What happens," Mr. Wismer continued,
"when the wire from the battery goes directly to the ground?"
There was a thoughtful silence as the
import of his question sank in.
"I guess," Ned said, "there would be a
short."
"Exactly!" exclaimed Mr. Wismer. He
opened the car door. "Come around here and let me show you something."
The three boys followed their teacher
to the back of the car. Mr. Wismer took out his flashlight and directed its
beam at the place where the tail light was attached to the socket on the
car.
"Well?" Ned's voice was defensive.
Mr. Wismer pulled out the plug and let
it drop, apparently by accident, from his hand. "How careless of me," he
said. "Plug it back in, will you, Ned?"
Ned quickly inserted the prongs.
"Tsk! Tsk!" muttered the teacher
reproachfully. "Just as I thought. You are a bit careless, Ned."
"But, sir--" Ned began.
Mr. Wismer pulled the plug out,
twisted it, and re-inserted it. "There," he said. "It just takes a twist of
the wrist."
Ned bent down to examine the
connection more closely.
"That's just what I did," he
protested.
"Not quite," explained the teacher.
"The way you connected it, the prong wired to the ground was, most
regrettably, making contact with that part of the socket that leads to the
battery. A short circuit would have been - as I'm afraid it has been - the
lamentable result when the lights were switched on."
Sudden understanding glimmered on the
faces of all three boys. "Shall we go on our way?" Mr. Wismer suggested.
They pulled out of the garage and
headed down the dark street in silence.
Finally Ned spoke up. His voice was
respectful. "I guess you know a lot more than we gave you credit for," he
said.
They were passing the long, friendly
front porch of the Commercial House. A man was seated there in a rocking
chair, smoking a pipe.
Mr. Wismer gave two sharp toots on his
horn and waved. The man waved back.
"What did you do that for?" Arnold
asked, looking around blankly.
"Just giving credit where credit is
due," said Mr. Wismer.
END
