SOLAR-SYSTEM GIFT 129
“What do you suppose the gift will be, skipper?” Bud mused as the boys prepared to roll into their bunks.
Tom shrugged. “Hard to guess. Might be a collection of ore samples from another planetary system. Maybe even a new element, unknown to earth.”
“That doesn’t sound very exciting.”
“Okay. You name it.”
“Well,” said Bud, grinning, “how about a star-dust milk shake from the big dipper? Or a recording of the music of the spheres?”
Tom chuckled and yawned. “You’re getting space-happy, fly boy. Go to sleep!”
Tom was up at six, ate a hasty breakfast, and retired to his private laboratory.
Chow found him there later, playing with a small, tailless, bowed kite. The windstream provided from an electric fan held it aloft.
“Brand my pork an’ beans, what’s that?”
“A Malay kite,” Tom said. “Very good flyer.”
“I mean, how come?”
Tom grinned wryly. “Guess it does look kind of silly, Chow, but I’m trying to stir up some new ideas. Since my space kite didn’t work too well, I have to start all over again on the invention. Somewhere along the line I’ve run afoul of one of nature’s principles.”
“Wai, you’re goin’ to run afoul o’ that space rocket that’s due if you don’t shake a leg, buck-130 COSMIC ASTRONAUTS
aroo,” Chow warned. “It’s almost eight o’clock.”
Tom glanced at his wrist watch with a whistle of surprise. “Good thing you reminded me, Chow! Let’s go up and take a look!”
The two friends hurried to the observation dome atop the hub of the space wheel. Mr. Swift, Bud, Ken Horton, and everyone else who could squeeze in were conning the heavens eagerly.
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