“While I’m getting the robot set up,” Tom said to Bud, “why don’t you act as the girls’ escort. You might enjoy a visit to town right now on the mail truck. I’ve heard that it’s an old, one-street, frontier-type setup with all the pioneer-day atmosphere.”
Intrigued at the thought, the girls and Bud climbed aboard the truck, and rode off.
Tom, Sterling, and Hanson, using cranes and hoists from the Flying Lab, loaded the small walking robot onto one truck and derricked the drone plane onto the trailer of another.
At six o’clock the convoy set out to navigate the wasteland stretch to the plant. The vehicles picked
ARV UNDER SUSPICION 111
their way over the terrain, avoiding boulders and gullies.
As they rode along, Tom and his two technical advisers, who were alone in one truck, discussed their plans. Tom voiced the hope that the misinformation he had dictated on the tape recorder in his office would reach the Briggin gang and prevent another encounter with them.
“Don’t count on that wish too much, Tom,” warned Hank Sterling, who had been staring up at the sky. “Look at the formation of crows coming over the horizon.”
The flock of large birds, black against the sun, were winging their way directly toward the course being followed by the trucks. Tom watched tensely. In a matter of seconds the two paths would intersect as the trucks moved out of the shadow of a nearby mesa!
“Get ready to break up the motorcade line,” Tom radioed to the other trucks.
Then to Hanson he said, “Take a look at them through your binoculars.”