“And remember-no excuses about being too busy,” Sandy warned. “While you’re at it, you might bring us back some antique Mayan jewelry.”
“That’s against the law, Sis,” Tom replied with a chuckle. “But I might manage an old stone carving.”
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“I couldn’t wear that!” Sandy pretended to pout.
“Good luck, son,” Mr. Swift said, shaking hands. “I’ll be interested in hearing your report myself, especially if you run down any more clues on that mysterious space armada.”
“Right, Dad. I’ll keep you posted.”
After a final farewell, Mr. Swift and the girls boarded the cargo jet and took off. Tom waved as the plane dipped its wings and streaked northward into the blue.
The young inventor then walked to the Sky Queen. He had several ideas for improvements on his restroscope that he wished to work on before returning to camp. He had hardly seated himself in his private laboratory aboard the huge ship when Doc Simpson burst in excitedly.
“There’s a helicopter overhead, skipper,” the medic reported. “I think it’s going to land!”
Tom rushed out to see for himself. The big twin-rotored transport was slowly descending toward the clearing.
“That’s no private whirlybird,” a crewman remarked, squinting his eyes.
“It’s a Mexican government ship,” Tom replied, after studying its markings through binoculars.
In a few moments the helicopter touched down. Three men climbed out, wearing khaki police uniforms. Two of the men carried carbines. The 144 ELECTRONIC RETROSCOPE
third, tall and swarthy, was evidently an officer. He came forward and saluted briskly.