“In other words, please hurry it up, pal!” Bud cut in.
“Roger!” Slim replied. He added encouragingly, “Keep your chins up!”
The boys’ spirits rose for a while after hearing the friendly voice and knowing that help was on the way. But it was hard to remain cheerful as the temperature inside the kite grew more and more torrid. The carbon-dioxide content of the air was also rising.
Tom anxiously watched the gauges of the air-conditioning system. The boys rationed out the re-108 COSMIC ASTRONAUTS
maining water in small, careful sips. Slim Davis radioed fresh words of encouragement from time to time as the repelatron ship raced closer to their orbit. But both boys knew that a long, agonizing period of waiting must still be endured.
“I think we’d better put on our space suits, Bud,” Tom said presently. His voice sounded hoarse.
Merely getting into their suits proved an exhausting struggle in the cramped space. The boys’ muscles were numb from long confinement in the tiny cabin, and the slightest movement in the humid heat left them bathed in perspiration.
“Whew! That was worse than wriggling down a chimney,” Bud gasped.
After their helmets were on and their suit-conditioning equipment started functioning, the boys felt better for a time. Tom knew the improvement would not last long, however, since the air supply of their suits had already been overheated.
“Good grief! Now my view pane’s fogging,” Bud muttered after a while.
“Mine, too.” Tom plugged his suit radio into the kite’s sending-receiving set and made contact again with the Challenger.