“Sure. There’ll be no artificial atmosphere as we created on Little Luna. And even if we built a special airdome or shelter, we’d probably still use dehydrated rations.”
“Oh, well. Reckon I can still whip up a few Winkler specials in the ship’s galley,” Chow reflected cheerfully. “She’s got a galley, ain’t she?”
“Sure does, Chow,” Tom said. “A fine one. You’ll like it.”
“Brand my li’l ole cookstove, I can hardly wait!” The chef rubbed his hands excitedly and clomped about in his high-heeled cowboy boots. “You know, boss, I’m wonderin’ what it’s goin’ to feel like to get earthstruck!”
“Earthstruck? What do you mean?” Tom asked.
“Wai, I been moonstruck lots o’ times back in Texas when I was ridin’ night herd, lookin’ up at the sky an’ talkin’ to keep myself company. But up there, gallopin’ around on the moon, I figure a feller could only get earthstruck.” Chow paused as his eye fell on the new device Tom was making. “Say, what’s this do-jigger yo’re workin’ on now? Somethin’ new?”
The young inventor nodded. “I’ve decided to call it a ‘flying carpet’-or maybe a ‘repelatron donkey.’ “
Chow squinted at Tom suspiciously. “Brand
THE FLYING CARPET 127
my buffalo stew, if I didn’t know the things you cook up sometimes, I’d think you was pullin’ my leg. What’s this contraption supposed to do?”
It consisted of a flat, thin-metal platform about three feet square, with a six-foot length of wire leading to a small pocket-size control box. A metal housing built into the platform contained electronic gear.
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