“Here goes the first cylinder,” Tom yelled, opening wide the valve. “Get the second one ready, Bud.”
Dial needles on the control panel fluctuated wildly as Tom moved the robot through the blazing hangar. When the first cylinder of chemical was used up, Bud quickly uncoupled the hose and transferred to the second.
Within fifteen minutes the robot’s valiant battle in the hangar became a victory. The final tongue of flame was snuffed out.
Tom and Bud had to wait until the ship’s air conditioning cleared out the fumes before they could remove their masks. When they were able to enter the hangar, the boys could not touch the hot, twisted parts of fused metal that had been the drone plane.
The crow was in minute pieces, scattered about the hangar. Bits of it had pitted the walls and ceiling.
“What do you think caused the explosion, Tom?” Bud asked.
“From the looks of things,” Tom answered, “I’d say the crow exploded, taking the drone and almost the entire hangar with it.” Suddenly a look of horror crossed his face. “The other crow!” he cried. “It’s
48 TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT ROBOT
still in the physics lab. That may explode too!”
Leaping up the stairs two at a time, they dashed into the physics section. The huge mechanical crow was lying on the worktable where Tom had left it, wings outspread and feet sticking up in the air.
“We’d better pitch this thing overboard prontol” Bud advised, starting to lift it.
“No!” Tom cried. “Don’t do that. I’ll never be able to learn what’s inside.”
As Bud gingerly laid the crow back on the worktable, Tom grabbed up a small barrel of oil, poured it into a large tank, and immersed the crow.