Thenext morning Tom was up at the crack of dawn, grimly determined to find an answer to the earthquake menace. He ate a hasty breakfast, then drove to his private laboratory at Enterprises. He instructed the switchboard operator to shut off all incoming calls, then plunged into a study of the mystifying problem.
Earthquake activity, Tom knew, tends to occur in circular patterns, like bands around the earth—for instance, the circum-Pacific belt, and another belt extending eastward from the Mediterranean through Asia and on into the East Indies. Often these quake lines are visible as breaks or ruptures along the ground surface, calledfault traces. No doubt, Tom thought, there were many more uncharted ones.
Could an enemy scientist be making use of these earth faults to produce a man-made quake? Tom mulled over the disturbing idea.
"How would I tackle the job myself, if I had to undertake such a project for national defense?" the young inventor mused. He felt a growing sense of excitement as an idea began to take shape in his mind.
What about an artificial shock wave!
An hour later Bud Barclay walked into the laboratory and found Tom hunched over a jumbled pile of reference books on his workbench.
"What cooks, skipper?" Bud asked.
Tom looked up,his blue eyes blazing. "Bud, I think I may have the answer!"
Tom got up from his stool and paced about the laboratory. "Suppose the Brungarian rebel scientists have invented some sort of shock-wave producer—a device for sending vibrations through the earth's crust or the mantle underneath."
"Okay, suppose they have," Bud replied.
Tom snatched up a piece of chalk and made some quick diagrams on a blackboard. "Just this, pal. Let's say they set up two or three stations around the world for sending out such waves in a definite direction. Wherever the wave crosses an earth fault or another wave—boom!An earthquake!"
Bud stared. "No kidding, is that how those rats triggered off all these quakes?"
"It must be," Tom declared. "It's the only possible explanation."
"Good night!" Bud gasped weakly. "What a weapon! Just push a button every so often and you could blow up another country bit by bit—and no one could ever prove who was behind the attack!"
Tom nodded. "Enough to make every American shiver, if he only knew!"
"What can we do about it?" Bud asked.
Tom resumed his worried pacing. "I'll have to invent a shock-wave deflector, Bud. It must be done in a hurry, too. Our enemy may start to destroy American cities as well as vital defense plants!"
Immediately Tom put through an urgent call to an eminent scientist in Washington who was a member of the National Research Council. Quickly he outlined a plan.
"Tom, I'll talk to the president's special science adviser at once," the man promised. "I'll try to set up a meeting for ten o'clock tomorrow morning at Enterprises."
Feeling relieved, Tom left the plant with Bud. The two boys drove off to attend church with Mrs. Swift and Sandy. Then, after the Sunday midday meal, Tom returned to his laboratory to work on ideas for a shock-wave deflector.
Bud and Sandy, meanwhile, drove to the Shopton Yacht Club to inspect the damage to theSunspot. Tom had arranged with a salvage crew to tow the disabled ketch back to its slip.
Monday morning, a sleek Air Force jet transport touched down at Swift Enterprises. Aboard were a select group of top government scientists. Tom and Bud greeted them as they disembarked on the runway, then drove them to a conference room in the Enterprises main building.
"I'd say your theory is right, Tom, about the quakes being produced by artificial shock waves," said Bernt Ahlgren, a tall, hawk-faced man with a shock of red hair. He was a member of the Defense Department's Advanced Research Projects Agency. "But how do we stop them?"
"I believe they can be damped out by opposing waves," Tom replied. "This is assuming that I can design the right sort of equipment to do the job—and also that we can set up a warning system to alert us of the enemy shock waves in time." The young inventor sketched out the sort of shock-wave deflector which he had in mind. The government experts were very much impressed. In the session that followed, the visiting scientists contributed many tips and suggestions. Tom noted them down gratefully.
After a thorough discussion, it was agreed that the Defense Department would set up detectors at fifty check points around the country. Tom would choose the exact spots. Detection data from the check points would be fed to an electronic computer. The computer would establish the pattern, if any, of incoming enemy shock waves.
Dr. Gregg Miles, a seismologist from the Bureau of Mines, agreed to take on the job of setting up the check points.
"Thanks for your prompt co-operation," Tom said, smiling gratefully as the meeting broke up.
"We should thank you, Tom, for coming up with a plan to cope with this fiendish threat," Ahlgren replied. The others heartily agreed.
Shortly after lunch, Tom was hard at work in his laboratory when the telephone rang. It was Chief Slater at Shopton police headquarters.
"You'd better get over here fast, Tom," Slater said. "Samson Narko is ready to talk!"
Tom needed no urging. "Right, Chief!"
As he drove into Shopton, Tom wondered what the Brungarian agent would reveal. Was it possible that he might tip off the whole secret behind the destructive man-made earthquakes?
Chief Slater was waiting in his office. "Narko showed signs of cracking this morning," Slater told Tom, "so I notified the Central Intelligence Agency. They're flying a man up here—in fact he should be here by now. Narko won't talk till he arrives."
"How come?" Tom asked.
"Narko wants a bargain," Slater explained. "If the government will promise to deport him at once without trial, he'll spill what he knows."
Tom whistled. "I sure wouldn't want to be inhisshoes when he gets back to Brungaria! Hisbosses aren't stupid. They'll know he must have made a deal to get off scot free!"
Just then a taxi from the airport pulled up outside police headquarters, and the CIA official was ushered into Slater's office. He proved to be John Thurston.
"Narko's waiting in his cell," Slater said, after an exchange of handshakes. "Let's hope he hasn't changed his mind."
The Brungarian spy rose from his cot as the turnkey unlocked his cell door.
"You are from Washington, eh?" Narko said to Thurston. "Very well. I presume the police have told you my offer. Is it a bargain?"
Thurston was poker-faced. "You know the penalty for spying!" he snapped. "In your own country it would mean death. Why should we let you off?"
Narko's calmness evaporated. Beads of sweat burst out on his forehead.
"I have done no harm and I know little or nothing of my superiors' plans!" the spy said excitedly. "Why should I lie to you with my life at stake? After all, I am only an insignificant agent. But one important thing I do know—and this I will reveal if you promise to deport me at once!"
Thurston eyed him coldly. "Very well," the CIA man decided. "You have my word."
Narko sat down on his cot, breathing heavily. Then he looked up at the three Americans. "Your nation's capital, Washington, D.C., is going to be blown up!" the Brungarian asserted.
His words struck like a bombshell. Chief Slater and John Thurston stared at Narko in open-mouthed astonishment.
Then Slater scowled. "What a preposterous story! I suppose they're going to fly a plane over and drop an atom bomb—just like that!" He snapped his fingers.
Thurston was also inclined to doubt Narko's story. Any such bold move by the Brungarians, he declared, would amount to an act of war.
"It is the truth!" Narko shouted. "Do not forget—you have made a promise."
Tom Swift did not share Chief Slater's and Thurston's skepticism. Narko's words had chilled him with dismay. He called the other two aside and gave them a quick whispered briefing on the theory he had discussed with the government scientists, asking them to keep it confidential.
If the Brungarians indeed had a means of producing artificial shock waves, Tom pointed out, they could easily destroy Washington without the slightest risk to themselves.
Both Thurston and Chief Slater were alarmed. Turning back to Narko, they grilled him for clues. But it seemed obvious that the Brungarian wastelling all he knew—or, at any rate, all he intended to reveal.
"We're wasting our time," Thurston said finally, with a look of disgust. "But I made a promise in the name of the United States government and the promise will be kept."
Turning to Chief Slater, the CIA man added, "Turn him over to the FBI and have them take him to New York. I'll arrange for a seat on the first plane for Brungaria."
Tom drove back thoughtfully to Enterprises. Bud was waiting in his laboratory with news.
"Your dad went from Washington to Fearing Island and has gone up to your space outpost," Bud reported. "He has to do some experiments for the government project he's working on."
The outpost was a space station which Tom Swift Jr. had built 22,300 miles above the earth. It was a production factory for his famous solar batteries, and also an immensely valuable setup for space research and exploration.
"Think I'll radio Dad and let him know what's going on," Tom decided. "He may have some good suggestions. He usually does!"
Tom warmed up his private transmitter-receiver and beamed out a code call through the automatic scrambler. Seconds later, the loud-speaker crackled in response.
But just as the outpost operator's voice came through, the radio set exploded in Tom's face!
"Skipper!"Bud cried anxiously as Tom staggered back, his hands to his face.
"I'm all right—no harm done," Tom assured his friend.
Both boys were a bit shaken by the accident, nevertheless. Chow came rushing in as Bud was brushing the fragments of debris from Tom's clothes and examining the young inventor's face.
"Brand my flyin' flapjacks, what happened?" Chow asked. The chef had been bringing a tray of fruit juice to the laboratory and had heard the explosion outside.
"The radio set just blew up in my face," Tom explained. "Fortunately, the equipment was transistorized mostly with printed circuits. Otherwise," he added, "I might have been badly cut by slivers of glass from the exploding vacuum tubes."
As it was, the young inventor had suffered onlya few slight scratches and a bruise on the temple from a piece of the shattered housing. Bud swabbed Tom's injuries with antiseptic from the first-aid cabinet while Chow poured out glasses of grape juice.
"What caused it, Tom?" Bud asked as they paused to sip the fruit drink.
"Good question," Tom replied. "Frankly, I don't know." But he was wondering if the set might have been sabotaged.
Tom was still eager to get in touch with his father and telephoned the electronics department to bring another set to his laboratory. Chow left just as the new set arrived.
Tom hooked it up quickly, donned a set of goggles, and tuned to the space-station frequency. Then he picked up the microphone and stepped well back from the set, waving Bud out of range at the same time.
"Tom Swift calling Outpost!... Come in, please!"
A moment later came another explosion!The new set had also blown up!
"Good night!" Bud gasped in a stunned voice. "Don't tell me that's just a coincidence!"
Tom shrugged. "We can certainly rule out the possibility that anything was wrong with the radio itself. Every set is checked before it leaves the electronics department."
"So where does that leave us?" Bud persisted.
Tom shook his head worriedly as he took off the goggles. "Both times it seemed to happen just as the reply was coming through from the space station. There is no possibility that their signal was too strong—in other words, that the explosion was caused by overloading the receiving circuits."
"Are you implying that an enemy intercepted the message and sent some sort of ray that caused the set to explode?" Bud demanded.
Tom's face showed clearly that Bud had pinpointed the suspicion in the young inventor's mind. "Could be."
Bud was worried by this latest development. "Skipper, suppose I hop up to the space wheel and talk it over with your dad. He may be able to help us detect any enemy moves."
"Good idea, pal," Tom agreed. "The sooner the better, I'd say."
The boys exchanged a quick handshake and affectionate shoulder slaps. Then Bud hurried out to one of the Enterprises hangars to ready a helijet for the flight to Fearing Island. This was the Swifts' rocket base, just off the Atlantic coast. From there, Bud would board one of the regular cargo shuttle rockets operating between the space station and Fearing.
Tom, meanwhile, plunged back to work on his shock-wave deflector.
At ten the next morning he called in HankSterling and showed him a set of completed drawings.
"Hank, you did a fast job on the container for the brain," Tom began apologetically, "but you'll really have to burn out a bearing on this one!"
Hank grinned. "I'm geared to action. Say, what do we call it, anyhow?" he asked.
Tom grinned. "Chow told me last night this gadget looked like a fireplug under a rose trellis and I ought to call it Fireplug Rose! But I've given it a more dignified name—the Quakelizor, which stands for an underground quake wave deflector."
Briefly, Tom explained the various parts of his latest invention, which consisted of a hydrant-sized cylinder to be inserted into the ground, with magnetic coils near the top. A smaller hydraulic cylinder, mounted above this, was wired to a metal framework and radio transmitter.
"This setup will detect any incoming enemy shock waves," Tom said. "We'll need fifty of 'em, so turn the job over to Swift Construction. And have Uncle Ned put on extra shifts."
The Swift Construction Company, managed by Ned Newton, was the commercial division which mass-produced Tom Jr.'s and Tom Sr.'s inventions.
Information from the detector-transmitters, Tom went on, would be fed into an electronic computer at the Bureau of Mines in Washington.
The Quakelizor itself was housed in a massive cube-shaped casting with two large spheres mounted on top. From each of its four sides jutted a hydraulic piston.
"How does it work, Tom?" Hank asked.
"Dual-control spheres on top," Tom explained, "will receive by radio signal the pulse frequency computed in Washington."
He added that inside each sphere was a "pulsemaker." This would produce changes in the pressure of the hydraulic fluid by affecting the kinetic energy of the fluid's atoms.
The pressure changes would then be enormously magnified in the four hydraulic output drivers. When the unit was embedded in rock, underground, the huge pistons would send out counter shock waves through the earth's crust to neutralize the enemy waves.
"Wow!" Hank Sterling was breathless at the sheer scope of the young scientist's newest invention. "I'll get hot on the job right away."
After forty-eight hours of round-the-clock work, the equipment was ready. Tom conferred by telephone with both Dr. Miles in the Bureau of Mines and Bernt Ahlgren in the Pentagon. He had already chosen the spots for the detector-transmitter check points.
Tom told the men that he believed the best spot for the Quakelizor itself was on a certain government reservation in Colorado. A deepunderground cave there would provide a perfect site.
"We'll be close enough to the San Andreas fault to prevent a really huge-scale disaster," Tom explained. "And the Rocky Mountain structure will give us a good bedrock medium for shooting out waves anywhere across the continent."
Dr. Miles and Ahlgren agreed enthusiastically. Tom and the two scientists spoke over a three-way telephone hookup—with automatic scramblers to counter the danger of enemy monitors—laying plans to install the equipment. Ahlgren agreed to fly a technical crew out to the spot in Colorado which Tom had named.
The next day, Tom, Hank, and several top Enterprises' engineers, including Art Wiltessa, took off in theSky Queen. This was Tom's huge atomic-powered Flying Lab. The massive plane flew at supersonic speeds and was equipped with jet lifters for vertical take-off or hovering.
A Whirling Duck heliplane, loaded with communications equipment, accompanied theSky Queen. In little more than an hour, the two craft touched down in a rugged Colorado canyon. The government technical crew was already on hand.
"Glad to know you," Tom said, shaking hands with the engineer in charge. He introduced his own men and added, "Better roll up your sleeves. This job is going to take plenty of oomph!"
The parts of the Quakelizor were unloadedfrom theSky Queenonto dollies. Then the group, armed with bull's-eye lanterns, flashlights, and walkie-talkies, hauled the parts by tractor into the cave.
"Okay. Now let's pick out the spot for embedding the unit," Tom said.
The men had no sooner begun to look around the huge underground chamber when a fearsome growl rumbled through the cave. Everyone whirled about and the next instant froze in horror.
A huge bear reared up in the mouth of the cave! The monster snarled and blinked its yellow eyes in the glare of lights.
"We're trapped!" Hank cried out.
The enormous bruin was now waving his huge head from side to side, as if daring the intruders to step up and fight.
Several of the government men had brought rifles and shotguns. But in spite of their peril, no one wanted to shoot the handsome old fellow.
"I'll send out an SOS," Tom said. "If help arrives before the bear attacks, we won't use guns."
He radioed the local Forest Ranger post. After a nerve-racking wait, with the group expecting a charge from the beast at any minute, two rangers appeared and captured the bear with a net. One man of the government work crew knocked together a stout wooden cage. The beast, outraged,was loaded aboard the heliplane to be released in an area remote from the cave.
Now the grueling job of installing the Quakelizor began. First the cave was cleared of debris, bats, and other small living creatures. Then a site was marked out on the cave floor. Tom had brought along a midget model of his great atomic earth blaster, which he had invented to drill for iron at the South Pole.
(Tom and Hank meet a bear in the cave)
With the blaster, Tom quickly drilled a pit of exact size into the bedrock. Then the Quakelizorwas assembled and lowered into place by a portable crane. A power plant and radio antenna were set up and the installation was finally completed.
"I must return to Shopton now," Tom said. "Art here will stick around and help you operate the setup," he told the government engineers after radio contact had been made with Washington. "If anything goes wrong, just flash word to Enterprises."
TheSky Queenand the heliplane sped back across the continent. As Tom landed at Enterprises he was greeted by Bud, who came speeding out on the airfield by jeep.
"Just got back from the space wheel about an hour ago," Bud said. "Your dad's really worried about those exploding radio sets, Tom. He hasno clues, but he's sure the scientists working for the Brungarian rebel setup are responsible. He thinks they may try to ruin all of Enterprises' communications system by remote control."
Tom's face was grave as he listened. The two boys discussed the problem as they drove to the Swifts' office in the main building.
"Boy, I sure wish I could think of some way to cope with it," Tom said wearily, flopping down in his desk chair.
"Your dad said to give it the old college try," Bud reported. "And he also said he'd be back in two days to help you on the problem."
Tom glanced at the calendar. "Which reminds me," he said, "on Monday the brain energy will be due from space!"
The thought sent a thrill of excitement tinged with worry through the young inventor's mind. Would the container he had devised prove suitable?
"Hey! A call on the videophone!" Bud pointed to the red light flashing on the control board. He jumped up and switched on the set.
Blake, the Washington announcer, appeared on the screen.
"Bad news, skipper," he said ominously. "An earthquake tremor was just felt here in Washington. It centered in a shipyard on the Potomac and caused great damage!"
Tomand Bud listened in dismay as Blake reported all the details he had been able to gather.
"Was my Quakelizor a flop, Bud?" Tom muttered, his shoulders drooping as the announcer signed off. "It must have been!"
"Don't be silly! Snap out of it!" Bud gave his pal a cheerful poke in the ribs, hoping to buck him up. "You heard what Blake said—Washington itself was hardly touched. Without your setup, think of all the people thatmighthave been killed or injured! And all the government buildings that might have been wrecked, maybe even the White House. I'd say your shock-wave deflector must have been at least ninety per cent effective!"
Tom brightened somewhat on hearing Bud's words. He picked up the phone, and placed a call to Dr. Miles at the Bureau of Mines. It was almosthalf an hour before the operator was able to get a line through. But Tom felt the suspense had been worth while when Dr. Miles exclaimed:
"Tom, it was a miracle you completed the Quakelizor installation in time! In all probability it saved us from a major national disaster, perhaps worse than Pearl Harbor!"
Tom felt a glow of pride and relief. "Thanks, sir. But what about the shipyard destruction?" he added, still not entirely convinced.
"That was a bad break, Tom," Dr. Miles admitted. "Our detectors showed that the shock waves had been almost damped out when a sudden power failure occurred. It turned out that an overload had shorted the Quakelizor's power plant. The crew had it fixed within moments, but by that time the damage was done."
Tom winced as he heard of the unfortunate accident, but was thankful the results had been no worse.
Miles went on to say that he had just been conferring with Ahlgren at the Pentagon. The Defense Department now feared that attempts might be made against other large cities and was therefore eager to have Tom deliver several quake deflectors as soon as possible. These would be installed at strategic points around the country.
"The government heads were so impressedwith your invention, Tom," Dr. Miles added, "that they'll probably be walking the floor anxiously until the others arrive."
Tom chuckled, then became serious. "Tell them we'll go to work right away," he informed the seismologist. "I'll have the new Quakelizors ready as soon as possible, but you'd better warn your associates it's bound to take a few days."
As soon as the conversation was completed, Tom dialed Ned Newton at the Swift Construction Company. Although he was actually not a relative of the Swifts, both Tom and Sandy had from childhood called him "Uncle Ned."
"What's up, Tom?" he asked.
Tom told him of the latest request from Washington and asked that another three-shift work schedule be set up to turn out the additional Quakelizors.
"Hank and I will bring the blueprints over right away, if you don't mind being late to dinner," Tom said.
Ned Newton agreed willingly, only too happy to help cope with the quake menace. By eight o'clock that evening, work on the project was proceeding at great speed. The Swift Construction Company continued humming with activity around the clock.
The week end was almost over by the time Mr. Swift arrived back from the space station. Tomflew to Fearing Island to meet him. On the short hop back to Enterprises, they discussed the radio problem.
"I think the solution's been staring us in the face, Dad, but we've been too worried to think of it," Tom said. "Remember Li Ching's jamming-wave generator?"
He was referring to a device used recently by an Oriental foe of Tom and his father. Mr. Swift's eyes lighted up with a quick flash of understanding.
"Dad, you wrote a report on the generator for the government with a memo on possible ways to combat it," Tom went on. "Maybe the same measures would work in this case."
The Swifts had discovered that their enemy had been intercepting Tom's messages, thereby learning the frequency to which the Swifts' receiver was tuned. They then radiated a signal at this frequency, modulated at the frequency to which the local oscillator was set. This had caused a buildup of energy in the I. F. transformers, resulting in their explosion.
Now Mr. Swift said, "You're right, son. We'll insert a blocking filter in the R. F. stage that should do the trick."
Their minds relieved of this problem, the Swifts were eagerly looking forward to the arrival of the brain energy from space the next day. The scheduled time, if pinpointed at exactly twoweeks from the moment when the first message was received, would be half an hour past noon.
The spot, two miles from Enterprises, was on a lonely hillside. It was shaded by trees, higher up the slope, with bushes and other wild-growing greenery softening its contours. Over the week end, Tom had had carpenters from Enterprises put up a small cabin at the foot.
As twelve-thirty approached, Tom, Bud, Mr. Swift, Hank Sterling, Arv Hanson, and several other Swift technicians stood by at the scene with the star-headed container. Chow had also begged to be on hand.
"I jest got to see Ole Think Box come to life!" he said.
Eyes darted back and forth from wrist watches to sky as the zero moment ticked closer. Bud even began muttering a countdown.
"X minus three... X minus two... X minus one... This is it!"
All eyes flashed skyward.But nothing happened!Not a speck showed in the blue, cloudless sky.
The watchers glanced at one another uncertainly. More minutes went by. Soon it was quarter to one... then one o'clock.
"No mistake about the time, was there?" Arv asked.
Mr. Swift shook his head. "Not if the code was translated correctly." He frowned. "It's true theyspoke merely in terms of days. But their time references are usually very precise."
The waiting group fidgeted and prowled back and forth to ease their tension. Feelings of suspense began changing into gloom after two more hours had passed with no sign from the sky.
Disappointed but unable to wait any longer, the technical men went back to the plant, one by one. Hank Sterling, too, and Arv Hanson finally had to leave.
"Sorry, skipper," Hank muttered. "Ring us right away if it shows up."
"Sure, Hank."
As six o'clock went by, Chow tried to pep up his companions' drooping spirits with a simple but tasty supper, warmed up on an electric hot plate in the cabin.
"What do you think, skipper? Are we out of luck?" Bud asked as they ate.
"Our space friends haven't let us down yet," Tom replied. "I'm sure they won't this time." Though he didn't say so aloud, Tom was worried that their Brungarian enemies might have managed to divert and capture the energy.
Mr. Swift seemed to read Tom's thoughts. "Let's hope no hitch has occurred," he said quietly.
The sun went down. Twilight slowly deepened. The trees on the hillside faded from view in the gathering darkness.
"There it is!" Bud yelled suddenly.
Electrified, the four sprang up in an instant. A speck of light was sailing across the sky! But their faces fell as it drew closer.
"Only an airplane," Bud grumbled.
At ten o'clock Mr. Swift gave a weary yawn. "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak," he confessed. "I got only two hours of sleep on the space wheel, and apparently last night wasn't enough to catch up. Sorry, fellows."
"Why don't you go home, Dad? Hit the hay," Tom said sympathetically.
Promising to take a turn on watch if the vigil continued through the next day, Mr. Swift drove off in his car.
Time dragged by slowly as the three remaining watchers chatted and looked hopefully at the stars. Eventually Chow propped himself against a tree and dropped off to sleep to the accompaniment of low-droning snores. Bud too began to drowse.
It was long past midnight when Tom suddenly caught sight of a moving light in the sky. He stiffened and held his breath. Another false alarm?
But no! A glowing, faintly bluish mass with a comet tail of luminous orange red was slowly proceeding through the pattern of stars!
"Hey, fellows! Wake up!" Tom shouted. He sprang to his feet and unlatched a single point ofthe star head. Within seconds, Bud and Chow were both wide awake, as excited as Tom. The blue nebulous mass moved closer and closer. The three watchers were speechless with awe.
As the ball of energy descended toward them, it lit up the whole scene. The hillside looked almost as if it were on fire. The earth vibrated, and the air had the sharp smell of ozone. This was followed by a frightening clatter and rumble. The force of the energy was sweeping down rocks, gravel, and shrubbery in a hillside avalanche!
"Look out!" Chow shrieked. "We'll be pulverized in this rock stampede!" He streaked for cover as a huge boulder came plunging straight toward him.
"Hold fast, Bud!" Tom cried. "Nothing's headed our way!"
Steeling his nerves, he grabbed the waiting container and held on grimly. An instant later the glowing mass sharpened and narrowed itself into a snakelike bolt of fire that arced straight into the head of Tom's invention.
Tom gave a yell of triumph and clamped the star point shut, then pushed a button to activate the self-sealing process.
Chow peered out cautiously from behind a clump of rock. The next second, he let out a Texas whoop, bounded from cover like an over-sized gnome, and sent his ten-gallon hat sailing high into the air.
"Yippee!"
Bud cheered too. "The visitor from Planet X has arrived!"
In their excitement and relief, the three hugged one another and jumped for joy.
"Should we wake up your dad and tell him the good news—or keep it a surprise till morning?" Bud asked Tom.
"I guess we'd better—"
Tom broke off in a gasp as the robotlike container suddenly began to whirl—slowly at first, then faster and faster. Spinning crazily like a huge runaway top, it darted up, down, and about the hillside.
Tom and his two companions stared in helpless amazement.
"Great horned toads! What's it up to?" Chow exclaimed.
"Seems like the energy's trying to get out!" Bud guessed. "Something must be bothering it."
Tom shook his head incredulously. "No reason for that. The container was absolutely empty."
Chow suddenly gave a groan and slapped his forehead in dismay. "Brand my Big Dipper!" the cook said. "Mebbe Ole Think Box has gone loco! An' it could be my fault!"
"Whatare you talking about, Chow?" Tom asked, turning to the old Westerner in amazement.
Chow related how he had dropped the bubble gum inside the robot's head. "Did I ruin the critter?" he asked fearfully.
Tom was thoughtful for a moment, frowning as they watched Ole Think Box continue its gyrations. The figure seemed to be calming down somewhat, although Tom could not be sure of this.
Suddenly his face brightened. A new thought had just struck the young inventor! To Chow's amazement, Tom slapped the cook happily on the back.
"I think you've done me a favor, Chow!" he exclaimed.
"I have?" The old Texan stared at his young boss, as if not sure whether or not to believe him. "How come?"
"You saw how Ole Think Box reacted to the gum," Tom explained. "That shows the energy really is like a brain! It's responsive and sensitive to conditions of its environment, especially when coming up against something new and unexpected."
"You mean they don't have bubble gum on Planet X?" Chow asked with a grin.
Tom smiled as Bud said, "This means we should be able to communicate with it."
"And the brain will probably be able to communicate back to us!" Tom went on excitedly. "We may even be able to learn about Planet X!"
As he spoke, Ole Think Box's whirling became slower and slower. Finally it came to rest close to the three humans.
"What do you suppose happened to the gum?" Bud asked. "Did he chew it all up?"
"It's probably unchanged," Tom replied. "Our visitor is used to it now."
Chow was still wide-eyed with awe. He stared at the strange creature as if expecting it to snap at him in revenge for the gum.
"Don't worry, old-timer. Think Box won't bite," Bud teased. "With that gum spree, he's just been initiated into our American tribal customs!"The pilot grinned. "Hey! We haven't given him a proper name."
"You're right." Tom looked at his pal and chuckled. "Got any ideas?"
"Hmm. Let me see." Bud scowled and paced about with his hands clasped behind his back. "Firetop—John Q. Pyro—"
"But it ain't on fire now," Chow pointed out.
"Maybe not, but he sure blazed a trail getting here," Bud argued.
Tom and Chow countered with several ideas of their own, but nothing seemed suitable until Bud suddenly stopped short and snapped his fingers.
"I have it! He's a visitor from Planet X, so let's call himExman!" Bud spelled it out.
"Perfect!" Tom was delighted and Chow agreed that it seemed "a right good monicker." The Texan insisted seriously that if the creature were going to be named, he should also have a proper christening.
"Why not?" Tom agreed, as both boys broke into laughter. Bud also liked the idea.
Chow had a troublesome afterthought. He shoved back his sombrero, squinted frowningly at the brain container, and scratched his bald head. "For boat christenings and statues and what not, you break bottles on 'em or cut ribbons or pull a sheet off 'em," the cook said. "But how in tarnation do you christen a buckaroo from space?"
"Nothing to it, Chow," Tom assured him. "We'll do the job up nice and fancy with a display of electricity. But first let's get Exman over to the lab."
The three loaded the energy container into the pickup truck which had brought it to the hillside spot. Then Tom drove back to Enterprises and they took Exman into his private laboratory.
Here Tom attached an electrode to each side of the star head. One electrode was safely grounded, the other connected to a Tesla coil. Then, with all lights turned off in the laboratory, Tom threw a switch.
Instantly a dazzling arc of electricity sputtered through the darkness across the creature's head! The eerie display lit up the room with such impressive effect that both Bud and Chow felt their spines tingle.
"I christen you Exman!" Tom intoned.
For several moments he allowed the fiery arc to continue playing about the star head. Then he opened the power switch and turned the room lights back on.
"Wow! Quite a ceremony!" Bud murmured.
"After a send-off like that, I'll be expectin' the critter to do great things here on this lil ole planet Earth!" Chow declared fervently.
"You could be right," Tom said.
Worn out by the long wait for their visitor from Planet X and the excitement following his arrival,Chow finally went off to his own quarters at Enterprises for a well-earned sleep.
"Guess you and I had better get some shut-eye too, pal," Tom told Bud. "And I think I won't tell Dad until morning."
(Tom, Bud and Chow celebrate building Exman)The two boys decided to bunk on cots in the small apartment adjoining Tom's laboratory. Exman, meanwhile, was left locked in the laboratory with a tiny "night light" showing on him.
"Just a little ray of energy to keep him company," Tom explained with a chuckle.
Minutes later, the two boys were sound asleep. For a while, all was silent. Then the apartment's telephone rang, shattering the stillness. Tom struggled out of the depths of sleep, got up, and groped his way over to the wall phone.
"Tom Swift Jr. speaking."
A familiar voice asked, "Did it come?"
"Oh, hi, Dad!" Tom replied, yawning. "Yes, Exman arrived in fine shape. We've put him to bed. Tell you all about it tomorrow morning."
"Okay, Tom."
As Tom hung up, Bud roused and switched on a lamp. He had awakened in time to catch only part of Tom's words. "Your father?" he inquired.
Tom nodded sleepily and was about to go back to bed. But Bud, still fascinated by the space visitor, decided to have a peek at Exman. He got up and opened the door to the laboratory. A yell from him brought Tom rushing to his side.
"Hey! It's gone!"
The spot by the night light where they had left Exman was now deserted! Tom found a wall switch and pressed it. As light from the overhead fluorescent tubes flooded the room, the boys gave laughing cries of relief.
Ole Think Box had merely moved himself to another corner of the room!
"Guess he didn't like that little chum we left on for him," Bud said with a chuckle.
"Let's leave him where he is," Tom agreed.
The two boys went back to the adjoining apartment and were soon asleep again. Several hours later they were rudely awakened by a loud crash of glass and a heavy thud.
"Something's happening to Exman!" Tom cried.
With Bud at his heels, the young inventor dashed into the laboratory.