“Reckon that ain’t very much, eh?”
“About enough to keep a flea alive for half a second.” Tom whipped out his slide rule and did some rapid figuring. “Chow, with the power I used to make this much oxygen, you could run your toaster an hour a day for eighty-one years!”
“Wai, brand my coyote cutlets!” Chow gulped. “I-uh-how-” he floundered, trying to think
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EXCITING PLANS 39
of some way to comfort his young boss, but words failed him. He glanced helplessly at Bud and Ted.
Bud broke the glum silence by clapping Tom on the back. “So what? Fleas need oxygen too, don’t they? Cheer up, pal. At least your machine works!”
Tom chuckled good-naturedly. “Guess you’re right at that, Bud. But this is only a start.” He paced back and forth with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, then turned to face Bud and Ted. “It looks as if even the Citadel isn’t the place to finish this experiment.”
“Meaning what?” Ted asked.
“Meaning we’ll rocket up to our space station and use solar radiation as our source of power.”
Tom Swift’s outpost in space was a huge, wheel-shaped satellite, orbiting 22,300 miles above the earth. Tom had designed it as a factory for charging his famous solar batteries, as well as a scientific observation post and TV relay station.
“Yip-pee!” Bud yelled, and swung his friend around the floor a couple of times.
“Put ‘er there, skipper!” said Ted and pumped Tom’s hand up and down.
“Hold it, fellows!” Tom spluttered with laughter. “This is serious business.”
“Who said it wasn’t?” retorted Bud cheerfully.
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