Bud’s position was indeed perilous.
“Here! Grab hold o’ this, pardner!” Chow urged, leaning out to shove his depth-tester rod as far down as possible.
Bud maneuvered the donkey awkwardly, but could not get within reach.
“Cut your steering repelatron and try hovering!” Tom radioed. “I’ll pick you up!”
He jockeyed his own platform under Bud’s and helped his friend slither down.
Tom headed back to the ship’s landing stage, with Bud towing his donkey behind them by means of the switch cable.
“Brand my octopus soup, you had a mighty close call, Buddy boy!” Chow remarked, helping him in through the air lock.
149
150 THE RACE TO THE MOON
“You’re telling me!” Bud gulped. “What went wrong with that thing, Tom?” he asked a few moments later as the young inventor, now inside the hangar compartment, checked the faulty platform.
“Repelatron needs adjusting,” Tom muttered, reaching for his tool kit. “Must have been jolted out of whack on the way up here.”
After tuning and testing the electronic circuits, Tom pronounced the platform safe and the boys ventured out again. Nicky, who had jumped to Tom’s shoulder, insisted on going with them.
They cruised about the crater in the dazzling sunlight and descended to inspect the terraced inner slopes of the rim’s walls.
When they rose above the mountains again, Tom gave a gasp over his suit radio. “Bud, the Brungarian rocket’s coming!”
The ship was arrowing in just over the horizon. It swooped down toward the boys. The next moment, fire spurted from the gun ports as their enemy loosed a volley of small missiles.
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