a first-aid cabinet and gave what help they could to them and the other two men. Then Tom taped a bandage on Bud’s scalp wound.
“Let’s see if we can find a telephone and call the local hospital,” Tom said.
“Right!” Bud responded.
They picked their way through the wreckage and emerged on a scene of frightful destruction. The main plant building of Faber Electronics had been partially demolished by the quake. Power lines were down and an outlying storage shed was ablaze. Dazed and panic-stricken survivors were wandering around aimlessly or rushing about to assist the injured.
“Good thing the main shift of workers knocked off before this happened,” Bud observed with a shudder. “There would’ve been a lot more casualties.”
“Look!” Tom pointed to a huge crevasse. “Right where we landed our Whirling Duck!”
The boys exchanged rueful glances as they realized that the craft which had brought them to Faber Electronics-one of Tom’s unique helijets -had been swallowed up in the gaping chasm.
“No use fussing about it now,” Tom said. “Come on, Bud! Let’s see about getting help for Mr. Faber!”
Despite the chaotic confusion, the boys managed to locate the plant superintendent-a harried, middle-aged man named Simkins-who was THE EARTHQUAKE 7
doing his best to restore order. Simkins, who had not been injured, informed them that electricians were rigging an emergency telephone line in order to get through to the nearby town of Harkness.
“Mr. Faber is badly injured,” Tom said. “Why not send a car? It’s only a few miles away, isn’t it?”