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Even while Jack was saying those few words, Perk had recovered from his sudden alarm, since he already knew the reason for the other's bringing him to a halt. "Huh! that crate's startin' off again, seems like," he muttered. Indeed, it was a foregone certainty for the splash of water told the story as well as the abrupt explosions of a working motor.
The voice replied crisply, "You'll find out when the time comes!" Tom flicked off his mike and exchanged another worried glance with Bud. "We seem to be in a spot, pal!" "And how! Especially if that crate's armed!" Bud muttered. "But what are they after?" Tom shrugged. "The space plants maybe or possibly our jet." "Might even be us they want," Bud said. "Got any tricks under your magician's hat?"
The latch was unfastened, and the crate's top was lifted back on its hinges. Out stepped Lass, tired, confused, a little frightened, but eagerly willing to make friends with a world which she still insisted on believing was friendly. It is hard to shake a collie pup's inborn faith in the friendliness of mankind, but once shaken, it is more than shaken.
Luckiest thing ever you managed to get the Big Boss to send us such a bully contrivance that seems to work jest great. Listen to the racket they're kickin' up right now enough to tell any chump ten miles off a crate's headin' his way. Jerusalem crickets! but ain't I glad we're fixed as we are."
That there crate's made of little fishin' poles, an' what's inside's all wrapped up in Chinee mats!" Old Chris came around from the back of the house. Jim East grabbed his arm and pointed at the bamboo crate: "Just you put your nose down, Chris, an' smell. Ain't that foreign?" Abbie brought her scissors. Carefully she removed the red and yellow labels.
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