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A placid, easy-going man, Troy took Barret's gibes and caustic comments in silence, doing his work and getting it finished on time. But occasionally he had difficulty in controlling his resentment. The day after the accident, or sabotage attempt on the firing unit, the hangar was quiet, most of the workers still being psychographed.
So that you find that a fig of Barret's twist, seventeen to the pound, is gone in the mere hours of day-light without counting such a casualty as waking up cold in the night, and going at it again.
"I wanted to make sure I got in my licks before the Solar Guard got hold of him," replied Roger, rubbing his knuckles and looking down at Barret's inert form. Astro grinned sheepishly. "I tried to stop him, sir!" he said. "I'll just bet you tried to stop him!" bellowed Connel. "Cadet Manning, you put that man to sleep, now you wake him up!"
When Roger was called to the stand, he entered the only defense he could, stating that he and Astro had been operating under Dave Barret's orders. The board immediately called Barret in to testify and his words blasted the cadets' case to smithereens. "... I have no idea what they were doing out in that rocket scout," he stated calmly. "I certainly didn't send them up on any such ridiculous tests.
I need only quote Barret's exclamation to enlighten you upon my discovery as, drawing in his breath with a strong effort, he burst out: "May the Devil admire me, but it's a rat-hole!"
The booth was used often by the workers and Astro did not think much of it, until he accidentally overheard Barret's conversation. "... Yeah, I know, but things are so tight, I can't even begin to get at it." Barret had his mouth close to the transmitter and his voice was low, but Astro could still hear him.
Barret's mocking laugh echoed in his ears as he stepped on the slidewalk and glided away toward the Academy. Behind him, the big hangar buzzed with the sound of men working in high gear again. The mighty ship and its specially designed equipment seemed at last to be ready for testing. But Strong felt none of the excitement.
"H'm! she wull pe carin' less for the gress, poy, than she wass used to do," returned the groom. "It iss my opeenion that they wull pe all wantin' to co away sooth pefore long." We refer to the above opinions because they were shared by the party assembled in Barret's room, which was still retained as a snuggery, although its occupant was fully restored to normal health and vigour.
"He has never been late before, and however far he may have gone a-field, there has been more than time for him to return at his slowest pace. Tell Roderick to get lanterns ready as many as you have. Gentlemen, we must all go on this search without another moment's delay!" There is little need to say that Barret's friends and comrades were not slow to respond to the call.
But she lifted the nearest two, Barret's "Maga," and "The Veiled Prophet," and rather dismally asked which it was to be? "Neither of them, Charlotte. The 'Maga' makes me think, and I know you detest poetry. I got a letter to-night from Agnes Bulteel, and it appears to be about Professor Sedgwick.
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