Tom smiled. “I want to discuss the whole project with Dad first. We’ll start back to Shopton early tomorrow morning.”
“Hold on now, boss,” Chow spoke up plaintively. “You ain’t said nothin’ yet about me goin’ along on this trail drive up yonder.”
Bud pretended to look worried. “Old-timer, we weren’t going to tell you the bad news just yet. But the fact is, crewmen with oversized bay windows won’t qualify for any more space flights. The strain is too great.”
“The strain is too great?” Chow snorted indignantly. “Why, brand my space boots, didn’t I stand the strain all right when we built the space wheel and explored the satellite Little Luna and even flew clear up to the moon? Didn’t crack up on any o’ them space flights, did I?”
“Oh, I’m not worried about you,” said Bud. “I mean the strain of the extra poundage might be too great on the spaceship.”
A deep red flush spread over Chow’s tanned features. “I can’t help what my own cookin’ does to me,” he said. “Now can I, Tom?”
“Don’t let Bud kid you, Chow,” Tom said. “I wouldn’t take off without my old pal any more than I’d take off without a space helmet. Why, a good space cook like you is the most important man in the crew!”
Chow grinned in relief and threw out his chest until he seemed in danger of popping a button.
42 SPACE SOLARTRON
“Thanks, boss. And as fer you, Buddy boy, don’t come runnin’ to ole Chow next time you get space sick. If you can’t stand the gaff, we’ll jest have to ship you straight back to earth!”
The session broke up in good-natured needling, and the following day Tom and his three companions took off for Shopton. A heavy overcast darkened the sky. Within an hour after leaving the Citadel, they saw lightning flashes arc through the clouds, while the heavens rumbled with thunder.