centripetal, you know, and theWhirligig is centrifugal. I wondered if it might not make some sort ofdifference?"
"Bah!" said General Webb. "Just a minor detail."
"If you say so," Whitlow shrugged.
"There they come!" shouted the general, jumping to his feet.
Whitlow, despite his misgivings, found that he, too, was on his feet,staring skyward at the tiny dots that were detaching themselves from theshining bulk of the carrier plane. As he watched, his heart beatingmadly, the dots grew bigger, and soon, awfully soon, they could bedistinguished as man-shaped, too.
"There's-- There's something wrong!" said the general. "What's thatthey're all shouting? It _should_ be 'Geronimo' ..."
Whitlow listened. "It sounds more like 'Eeeeeyaaaaa'," he said.
And it was.
The sound grew from a distant mumble to a shrieking roar, and the nextthing, each man had landed upon the concrete-and-paint bull's-eye beforethe reviewing stand.
Whitlow sighed and re-buckled his brief case.
The general moaned and fainted.
And the men of the Whirligig, all of whom had landed on the targethead-first, did nothing, their magnificently muscled legs waving idly ina sudden gentle gust of desert breeze.
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ November 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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