Now he flicked it to maximum. Then he got water from the scuttle butt and ammonia smelling salts from the first-aid locker. He went to work on Bud and Ted.
As the moments went by, Tom’s head cleared. Soon his two companions regained consciousness.
“W-what happened?” Ted murmured groggily.
“Not sure yet,” Tom replied, “but I suspect something went wrong with the solartron’s oxygen supply. Here-drink some more of this water.”
As soon as Bud and Ted were back on their feet, Tom hurried to check his matter-making machine. When he returned to the flight compartment, Bud flashed him a questioning glance.
“Figured it out yet?”
Tom nodded grimly. “According to the spectroscope, the machine was producing a one-hun-82 SPACE SOLARTRON
dred-thousandth of one per cent of carbon monoxide. Not fatal, but enough to knock us out!”
After radioing word to Horton and Mr. Swift, who had been calling them frantically, the boys returned to the space wheel.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re all right! You had us terribly worried,” Phyl greeted them.
“Slight foul-up on my space solartron,” Tom replied. He gave his father a complete report and added, “The machine was operating slightly off frequency, but I believe I’ve corrected the circuit design so it can’t happen again.”
To lighten the boys’ spirits, Sandy put in teas-ingly, “Where’s that Stardust you promised us?”
“Have to take a rain check on that, Sis,” Tom replied with a wry grin.
“Speaking of Stardust,” Mr. Swift remarked, “I’m engaged on a rather interesting experiment myself with cosmic dust.”
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