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"Big day Foundry Goodbean!" "I brought some bagels," Oliver said. George rubbed his hands together. "Come see." Near a brick wall, a thirty gallon grease drum stood on a sheet of asbestos-like material. Two copper pipes made a right angle to its base. One came from a propane tank in a corner; one was connected to an air blower driven by an electric motor. "Ta da!"
"My mom is too old, but it doesn't stop her." He looked at the furnace. "So, what are we doing?" "We're set," George said. They crossed the loft, and he handed Oliver a propane torch. "I'll turn on the gas at the main tank. You light it. There's the blower valve." He pointed to a round handle mounted between the blower and the pipe that led to the furnace.
They were big ones, of the kind used for commercial gases like propane or oxygen." "Or hydrogen?" Scotty asked quickly. "Or hydrogen," Steve agreed. "And that's probably what they contain, for inflating the balloons." He got up, turned off the coffee, and poured three cups. "Along about that time, I heard rifleshots. You can imagine what I thought.
Oliver lit the torch and knelt by the furnace. George stood by the propane tank. "Hope this works. You ready?" "Do it." George opened the line, and Oliver angled the torch tip down into the furnace. Nothing happened for several moments. There was a whooshing sound, and George said, "Holy Mama!" A blue flame, the size of a beach ball, was bouncing under the wooden ceiling joists.
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