United States or Yemen ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Arv Law stood erect, his pike-pole poised in both hands, and we were all ready for action. We could hear the rattle of many hoofs on the road. As soon as the column showed in the firelight, Bill Foster up with his musket and pulled the trigger. I could hear the shot scatter on stump and stone. Every man had his gun to his eye. "Wait till they come nearer," said Asher Eastman.
"Which means they must have figured out the missile's position as fast as our side did." "And they'll play rough to stop us from finding it," Arv added forebodingly. Within moments, the group clustered in the pilot's cabin felt a gentle bump as the Sea Hound settled on the submerged plateau. Tom relaxed at the controls but kept the rotors going so the craft would remain submerged.
Tom nodded and braked the jeep to a screeching halt. "Coast Guard too. They can pass the word to commercial shipping to be on the lookout." A telephone rang as he hurried into the office. "For you," the clerk said, looking up at Tom. "Nice timing!" Tom grabbed the phone. His face widened into a grin. "Bud! You seagoing jet stream! What happened?" Arv grinned, too, in relief.
"'Cordin' t' my observation," said Arv Law, looking up at the sky, "Injuns mos' gen'ally comes when they git ready." "An' 't ain't when yer ready t' hev 'em, nuther," said Lon Butterfield. "B'lieve they come up 'n' peeked out o' the bushes 'n' see Arv with thet air pike-pole, 'n' med up their minds they hed n't better run up ag'in' it," said Bill Foster. "Scairt 'em thet's whut's th' matter."
"Got it, skipper," Arv said tersely. "It'll take overtime to set up the job in the plastics department. But we ought to be rolling out the sheeting Tuesday." "That's swell, Arv! Thanks!" By midmorning Tuesday, Tom had his quality analyzer sonar completed and was showing Bud how the units worked. "Boy, it looks simple enough the way you explain it, prof!" Bud said admiringly.
Tom asked Bud with a grin. "Sure, but don't tag me with a torpedo!" Minutes later, the jetmarine slipped off into the depths with Bud and two other crewmen aboard. Tom and Arv followed in the seacopter. The quality analyzer sonar worked even better than Tom had hoped.
It was amazingly sensitive to any form of radioactivity and the missile, of course, would be "hot" from exposure to cosmic rays. Meanwhile, Tom had ordered his new hydrolung suit, with its four-plunger control unit and porpoise sonar, to be flown back to Enterprises. Arv Hanson had promised to make up several duplicates with a team of technicians working on all-night shifts.
Tom returned happily to base, feeling that the antidetection problem was now solved. The jetmarine, however, failed to appear. "That's funny. The test was over at four-fifteen," Tom murmured. "Maybe Bud surfaced out at sea somewhere," Arv Hanson suggested. Repeated radio calls brought no response.
Churning along the graveled road, Tom and Arv passed the launching area. Huge, needle-nosed cargo rockets and the mighty spaceship Titan loomed against the sky. Tom's moon-voyaging Challenger and his more recent space craft the Cosmic Sailer were also based there. "Going to alert the Navy for a search?" Arv inquired as they reached the communications building.
"Man 'et meks light o' this pole oughter hev t' carry it," said Arv, as he sat impassively resting it upon his knee. "One things sure," said Foster; "ef Arv sh'u'd cuff an Injun with thet air he 'll squ'sh 'im." "Squ'sh 'im!" said Arv, with a look of disgust. "'T ain't med t' squ'sh with, I cal'late t' p'int it at 'em 'n' jab."
Word Of The Day