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    â€œMaybe he got irritated when I said we were going to have a medal made for him with a big open mouth on it. How did I know he had no sense of humor?” Joe dug up a huge spoonful of ice cream and swallowed it. “But I found out,” he added.
    Danny stirred the remains of his banana bonanza, and shook his head. “Snitcher’s getting to be more of a bully every day. Somebody ought to teach him a lesson.”
    â€œSure. But not me,” said Joe. “I don’t like to teach anybody who hits so hard.”
    â€œNo, not you—not alone.” Danny put down his spoon. “But listen—do you want to get even with Snitcher?”
    â€œâ€™Course I do. But—”
    â€œYou’ve heard that old saying, ‘an eye for an eye’?”
    â€œHa! You’d never get close enough to Snitcher to hit him in the eye.”
    â€œThat’s not what I mean,” Danny said mysteriously. “I’ve got a great idea.” He jumped down from his stool. “Come on.”
    â€œYou mean, we’ll all gang up on him?” said Joe. “I don’t think that will—”
    â€œJust relax,” Danny said. “Follow me. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
    â€œYes,” said Joe glumly.

CHAPTER NINE
    â€œYou May Fire When Ready”
    The three friends cautiously approached the rear of the weather station from the cover of a clump of raspberry bushes. Behind him, Joe pulled IT, set on a little four-wheeled wagon, a relic of his younger days.
    Danny put a finger to his lips. “Do you understand the plan?” he whispered. “Any last-minute questions?”
    The others shook their heads.
    â€œOkay. Synchronize your watches.”
    â€œRoger,” Irene whispered. Joe was silent. “Well, Joe?” Danny said softly.
    â€œI haven’t got a watch,” said Joe. “I don’t even know what time it is.”
    Danny scowled at him. “Sh!” he said. “Let’s go.
    Softly they edged forward until they were only a couple of dozen yards from the side of the building. Then Danny dropped to his stomach in the tall grass. Motioning the others to wait, he wormed ahead, working his way from the back of the building to the side. Holding his breath, he got into the shelter of a large rock, and raised his head. Then he chuckled softly in satisfaction.
    He was facing that same large window through which Joe had first seen the dog, Vanderbilt. Inside, Snitcher bent over the long table, on which the teakettle steamed as usual. He was carving his initials in the table top with his pocketknife.
    â€œAha,” Danny said to himself. “So he’s alone. His uncle would never stand for that. And the teakettle’s on. Here goes the second Boston Tea Party.”
    He inched back to his friends. Carefully they pulled the wagon up behind the rock, and Joe propped up the front of IT with flat stones so that the nozzles pointed at the window. Irene stood behind them, judging the elevations and whispering directions.
    When all was ready, Danny sighted along the nozzles. Then he whispered into Joe’s ear, “You may fire when ready, Gridley.” Joe closed the switch.
    For a long moment, nothing happened.
    Then, slowly, above Snitcher’s head, a cloud began to form. At first, it looked like nothing more than heavy steam from the kettle. Then it thickened, grew darker and more substantial, and began piling into thunderheads. Snitcher, still carving away at the table top, stirred and glanced uneasily around. A rumble of thunder came that even the three watchers could hear. Snitcher looked out the window at the clear sky, with a puzzled expression.
    A few drops must have fallen on his head, for he suddenly stared upward. He stood gaping in astonishment. A little bolt of lightning, about a foot long, shot down. It hit him directly on the top of the head, and knocked him sprawling. At the same instant, a furious