This flying saucer business has got everybody all mixed up. You keep hearing about sightings and meeting people who had a friend who knew a guy who saw one. But how do you start investigating on your own? Well, why not follow Bill Dover's hunch? He started looking in a mental institution.
William Dover was a columnist for a small news service operating out of Cincinnati, Ohio. He was an eager young man with a sharp, alert face, and a reputation for quick-thinking. He had only one outstanding fault. He believed in Flying Saucers.
It was only natural, then, that Bill Dover should get excited when a Saucer story developed virtually in his own backyard. The place was Hillsboro, Tennessee, only a short hop from his place of business, and the story had all the earmarks of being feature material. Some six witnesses had seen a blue globe drop silently onto a cornfield, and then take off again minutes afterward.
So Bill Dover investigated, talking to every one of the half-dozen witnesses. He talked to three children who giggled throughout the interview, until he gave up in disgust. He talked to an itinerant named Sawdust, who breathed fumes that were sixty-percent mule, thirty percent rye, and ten percent hair tonic. He talked to a sullen short-order cook named Jeff, whose friends had ribbed him unmercifully, sealing his lips. Finally, weary of the whole business, Dover talked to a squint-eyed farmer named Calkins, whose cornfield had been the landing site.
"Nope," he said, scratching his chin. "Didn't actually see this here blue globe land. Thought I saw somethin' takin' off, though, but it was goin' mighty fast. Sort of a blur."