“We’re doing a rock and roll!” Bud added. “Can’t you see?” Grabbing Tom around the waist of his space suit, he proceeded to cavort joyfully.
In a few moments the rescue rocket pulled into orbit alongside them and the boys climbed in
70 THE RACE TO THE MOON
through the entry hatch. Both Tom and Bud were pale and dank with perspiration when they removed their helmets and doffed their space suits. But their broad grins instantly relieved the worried rocket crew.
“How’d you find us, Ken?” Tom asked, after explaining their plight.
“Luck, mostly. The radioman picked up some of your conversation-just a few faint words, then lost it. But we finally got a directional fix by radar.”
Ken Horton, a slender man of about thirty, with dark, close-cropped hair, had been a major in the Signal Corps. He had become interested in rocket flight while in the Army. Upon his release he had joined Swift Enterprises to help Tom build his space station. He now was in charge of its broadcasting facilities.
“Stand by for acceleration!” Ken told the crew. He gunned the steering rockets, brought the ship about, then, with a final burst of power, headed for the Swifts’ outpost in space.
Tom and Bud watched through the transparent quartz window as they approached the station. “Every time I see this thing, it gives me goose bumps,”
Bud said in an awed voice.
“Same here,” Tom confessed with pride.
The huge silver space wheel, floating in the inky void, was indeed a breath-taking spectacle. Twelve spokes jutted out from the central hub. From one, a latticework telescope protruded. Others bore radar or TV antennae, along with STRANDED IN SPACE 71
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