“Sure thing, skipper,” Art promised. “These won’t take long.”
At seven the next morning, Tom, Bud, Chow, and the three animal experts boarded a jet plane for Fearing Island. At the rocket base they found everything in readiness, with the Challenger checked and tuned for takeoff.
As the last items were loaded aboard, Tom spoke to Hank Sterling. “Got a top crew picked out, Hank?”
RIDE ‘EM, COWBOY! 135
The modelmaker, who was to accompany Tom, nodded, grinning. “There were so many volunteers who wanted to make a trip to the moon, the Challenger never would have gotten off the ground! But I picked out five of the best.”
When he named the crew he had chosen-all experienced spacemen-Tom nodded approval.
Twenty minutes later the eager travelers boarded the Challenger and the air lock was sealed. Nicky perched himself on Tom’s shoulder as he took his place at the controls, with Bud in the copilot’s seat.
“Okay, buckle your seat belts, everybody,” Tom said, looking around. He was glad to see that neither Dr. Faber nor Evan Glennon appeared the slightest bit nervous at the prospect of spearing off into space. “Everything all right?” Tom asked them.
Dr. Faber nodded and smiled, his keen gray eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. Evan Glennon beamed at the young skipper with jovial heartiness.
“Gad I ni fynd, lad! In other words, let’s go!”
The ground crew signaled clearance for takeoff, and George Dilling’s voice came over the radio, “Good luck, fellows!”
“Thanks, George,” Tom replied. “We may need it to win this race!”