A marveling commentator had awarded Hank the name of "Scientific Pioneer" for his uncanny ability to reach answers to problems intuitively, without knowing or understanding the so-called "natural laws" involved. Hank's aptitude at things mechanical, his infinitely accurate mathematical computations and homely approach to abstract ponderables, had promoted him from a rural turnip patch to the Chair of General Sciences at our (alleged) institute of higher learning.[1] [Footnote 1: "_The Scientific Pioneer_," AMAZING STORIES, March, 1940.--Ed.] "It ain't," scowled Hank, "as if I was a hard man to git along with. Gosh knows I'm easy-goin' enough--" * * * * * There was no gainsaying that. Hank was as quiet and gentle as a Carnation cow. The fact that he had, despite his humble background, won the favor and affections of bilious old H. Logan MacDowell, president of Midland, proved his power to Win Friends. And the fact that he, handicapped by a rawboned homeliness that would have discouraged any scarecrow, had won the heart and hand of Prexy's daughter Helen, a lass ardently pursued by every male in four counties, proved beyond a doubt his ability to influence people. "--but they jest ain't no gittin' along," continued Hank, "with that there Hitler guy. The more he gits the more he wants. An' now that him an' his Japanee pals is forced _us_ into it, I'm agonna offer my services to whoever c'n use me." "And where would that be, Hank?" "Why, I was thinkin' o' one o' them plants that make war stuff," he said. "They got plenty o' problems, nowadays, tryin' to reorganize f'r defense work, changin' work methods, expandin' their facilities, an' so on. There's that Northern Bridge, Steel and Girder Comp'any, f'r instance--" "But, Hank," I reminded him, "how about Helen?" "I reckon Helen an' me'll jest have to wait a spell, Jim. Atter all, they's a job to be done. We got to pitch in an' do it, or they ain't gonna be no Helen or no Hank Cleaver, or mebbe even no U.S.A. f'r us to git married in." So that was that. When Hank Cleaver gets those grim lines about the corners of his mouth, there's nothing you can do to stop him. I helped him pack his battered old suitcase, then we went to say goodbye to Helen. She reacted quite as I had expected. She listened in astonishment to Hank's awkward explanation. Then she expostulated loudly. Then she sniffled a little. Finally she wept for a minute, kissed Hank moistly and told him she was proud of him. "Anyway," she said, "you'll come home every week-end to see me, won't you?" So Hank promised he would, and off we went. Yeah--that's right. We. I had decided to volunteer, too. That's me all over. Snoopy Jim Blakeson; can't keep my nose out of anything. * * * * *