Appleton, Victor – Tom Swift Jr 23 – And His Aquatomic Tracker

Below lay the island, its green-clad slopes curving around the enclosed lagoon. Near the beach stood a rambling house. Two men were outside-Vaxilis’

henchmen, no doubt.

Tom could see them gaping up at the Sea Hound in open-mouthed astonishment. A moment later they sprinted toward a clump of red-flowering brush.

Both men went sprawling on their faces as the seacopter swooped in low.

Tom grinned and sped off seaward, then circled back-this time on the 172 AQUATOMIC TRACKER

far side of the island, so that the Sea Hound would be hidden from view behind the ridge. Here he brought the seacopter hovering down to the water and issued quick orders to his crew.

A short time later Tom and Arv emerged through the hatch in hydrolung suits and dived over the side. Hugging the shore, they jetted around the island toward the harbor, careful not to get too close to the whirlpool.

When they were as near the lagoon as Tom thought safe, they scrambled cautiously ashore. Meanwhile, the Sea Hound had soared aloft and was buzzing the island. A clatter of ack-ack filled the air, but the jet-propelled seacopter, with Hank Sterling’s expert hand at the controls, was dodging the shell bursts easily.

“Those guys we saw must have been running for the gun emplacement,” Arv murmured.

Tom nodded his head. “It’s probably camouflaged under the brush. Let’s hope Hank keeps ‘em too busy to spot usl”

The ridge sloped downward at each end of the island, leaving only a gentle rise of ground between the outer shoreline and the inner harbor. Tom and Arv scaled the rise, then darted down toward the house, keeping under cover in the lush greenery that coated the slopes.