Through the thick glass view pane of his weird visitor’s helmet, Tom could make out two beady, glittering little eyes. As the figure drew closer, Tom’s own eyes widened. Then he gave a roar of laughter!
“Nicky!” Reaching down, Tom grabbed the tiny space-suited monkey and swept it up into his arms.
At that moment his own laughter was echoed
124 THE RACE TO THE MOON
outside the door. Sandy and Phyl rushed into the lab, giggling and choking with merriment.
“All right, brother dear, admit it!” Sandy chortled. “We had you fooled there for a moment, didn’t we?”
“You sure did.” Tom chuckled. “One look at him, and I just about conked out!”
“And we almost strangled out there, trying not to give ourselves away,” Phyl added merrily.
The girls watched as Tom unscrewed the tiny helmet. When he removed the space suit, he inspected it admiringly.
“Don’t tell me you two made this?”
“Who else?” Sandy said proudly.
“Sandy did most of the work,” Phyl added. “I just watched and offered helpful hints.”
“How about the air-conditioning mechanism?” Tom asked.
“We got Art Wiltessa to do that,” Sandy explained. “He thought we were goofy when we first asked him-said it was impossible. Then he sat down and turned it out practically overnight.”
“Smart work,” Tom commented. “Must have used transistors. It’s really an amazing job. A perfect miniature.”
“The suit is practical, too,” Sandy told him. “Dad lent me the designs you used for your regular space suits.”
Tom reached up and shook hands with the monkey, who had perched on his left shoulder. “Moon, here we come!” he said jauntily.
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