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Updated: June 18, 2025
Den Miss Cow sorter back off little, en run agin de tree blip! No 'simmons never drap. Den Miss Cow back off little fudder, she did, en hi'st her tail on 'er back, en come agin de tree, kerblam! en she come so fas', en she come so hard, twel one 'er her horns went spang thoo de tree, en dar she wuz. She can't go forerds, en she can't go backerds.
Meanwhile, the sonarman was probing the surrounding waters. "Any pings?" Tom asked. The man shook his head without taking his eyes from the sonarscope. "Nothing yet." Hank Sterling donned a hydrophone headset and listened intently. The silence deepened in the Sea Hound's cabin. Suddenly Hank stiffened and the sonarman cried out: "A blip, skipper! At two o'clock!"
Masses of smoke from the demolition-missiles that had smashed the guard-ship rose, curled and very slowly dissipated. Ten men entered the bulbous cargo-ship. Up to now the entire affair had consumed not more than five minutes, from the appearance of a blip on a spaceport radar screen, to the beginning of a full-volume broadcast.
Rip couldn’t have heard him through the helmet otherwise. "All set, Foster?" "Ready, sir." "Good. The long-range screen picked up a blip a few minutes ago. It’s probably that Connie cruiser." Rip swallowed. The Planeteers froze, waiting for the commander’s next words. "Our screens are a little better than theirs, so there’s a slim chance they haven’t picked us up yet.
I holstered my pistol, pushed past Joyce, and trotted for the lift. The mob behind me broke up, talking, as men under long habit ran for action stations. Clay was operating calmly under pressure. He sat at the main screen, and studied the blip, making tiny crayon marks. "She's too far out for a reliable scanner track, Captain," he said, "but I'm pretty sure she's braking."
"Send out a radar blip for them to pick up. I'll check the cargo and make sure it's lashed down for landing. Captain Stefens is tough when it comes to being shipshape." The freighter blasted evenly, smoothly onward through the darkness of space in a straight line for the man-made satellite.
Suddenly the answer came to him a self-propelled underwater grenade! Horrified, Bud jetted forward, tackling the diver at full speed. A split second too late! The grenade went streaking straight toward Tom Swift! Tom's earphones caught the hiss of the approaching grenade. Instantly his eyes darted to the sonarscope on his wrist. A tiny blip of light was moving on the screen!
Rip couldn't have heard him through the helmet otherwise. "All set, Foster?" "Ready, sir." "Good. The long-range screen picked up a blip a few minutes ago. It's probably that Connie cruiser." Rip swallowed. The Planeteers froze, waiting for the commander's next words. "Our screens are a little better than theirs, so there's a slim chance they haven't picked us up yet.
"A few feet are as good as a mile in space. Our blast might kick them around a little, and maybe there’s a little mutual mass attraction, but we don’t worry about it." He pointed to a blip that was just swimming into view, a sharp green point against the screen. "We do have to worry about that one." He selected a lever and pulled it toward him. Rip felt sudden weight against his feet.
One of them was always on lookout, clutching a rifle, peering all around, glancing every few seconds at the miniaturized radar screen set inside the collar of his helmet. But the spherical sky remained free of any unexplained blip or luminous speck.
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