Valley farmers in those regions which have been suffering heavily from drought are jubilant. Snow-sports enthusiasts were today preparing to return to their favorite haunts.

In the meantime, while California enjoyed its accustomed sun, reports from Montana indicated widespread suffering in the wake of a cold wave. Thermometers were tumbling, with lowest temperature in the United States reported from Havre at twenty-nine below zero. Three people were lost and feared dead in a blizzard near Wolf Point, Montana. (For details, see Page A-4, Col. 3.)

EXTRY! EXTRY! EXTRY! ! ! Well, folks, this is Ye Old-Time Newsy calling you the headlines over KTEY.

And the first big news this morning for all you folks in California is that there’s goin’ to be rain. Yessir, rain. I’ll spell it—R-A-I-N. Those little drops of water coming down—“little” maybe, but plenty of ’em. That’s what the old Weatherman says. So get out the umbrella and the old gum shoes. But you people in the South, don’t get too excited —just showers down your way. Now, of course, Your Old-Time Newsy doesn’t guarantee this rain; he’s just bringing you the report. But what I say is any report in a storm! Ha, ha, folks! Don’t mind me; it’s just a way I have.

•

“O.K., oil’s O.K. Say, how about lettin’ me make you a deal on some new front tires; those old ones are pretty smooth. There’s a rain comin’.”

“Sure, so is Fourth of July.”

“Naw, I mean it. Just got the news on the radio.”

“Say, is that right? Well, in that case I better be movin’. Got a roofin’ job on my hands. Thanks.”

•

“Gimme a beer. Say, what’s this about it goin’ to rain?”

•

“No, Billy, you cannot plan to go with Bob tomorrow. They say it’s going to rain.”

•

“It’s going to rain.”

•

“Going to rain.”

•

“RAIN!”

5

There was a story, the L. D. remembered, about a chief-of-staff so well prepared in advance that when awakened with news of war he merely said, “Look in Drawer B,” and went back to sleep. The L. D. felt much the same that morning, after he had read the forecasts from both the Weather Bureau and the company’s own meteorologist. Somewhere in his maze of high-voltage wires, his power-houses, and his dams there would be trouble, but everything was ready.

Just to be doing something he called up French Bar. Johnny Martley’s slow-spoken voice, transmitted along two hundred miles of wire, assured the L. D. that in that region machines and equipment were ready, and men mobilized.

“A couple of the boys was down to the City, but they just got back. We may need ’em too. Say, they said they saw you down there, goin’ into the building.”