“I’d never seen him or his friend at the field before,” the dispatcher said.
“His friend?” Bud echoed. “The log lists only the pilot, Edward Gates!” He told of the single rescue. “Did he have an unlisted passenger?”
“He may have.”
The dispatcher was able to give only a general description of Gates and his unknown companion, but added that Gates spoke with a slight accent and was the taller of the two. Both were dark and of medium build. Bud thanked the man, hung up, and told Tom the startling news.
“Bud! On the double!” the inventor cried. “Get the search party out again!
There may be another swimmer coming in. Or he may already be on the island.
Warn the guards at the rocket ships and at the lab.”
“Where are you going?” Bud asked, as Tom started off.
“Back to the beach.”
“Not by yourself,” Bud cried. “Hold on, inventor boy. You’re too important around here to be bumped off.”
A VANISHED PILOT 9
Tom paused while Bud gave instructions over the loudspeaker for a renewed search. Then, while the sirens wailed once more, the two boys jumped into the jeep and headed for the beach.
Bud, riding on the carrier behind Tom, gripped the spotlight and swung it slowly. The bright beam, shaken by the speeding jeep, moved jerkily along the dunes.
“Tom, look!” Bud cried suddenly. “I just caught a man in the spot beam. He threw himself down the minute the light struck him!”
Tom swung the wheel, and without slackening speed, hurtled the jeep toward the place where Bud was pointing. A hundred yards ahead of them, a dark-haired man, his shirt soaked and his trousers clinging to his skin, crouched in the sand.