turned toward the sun. Like a burning glass, it was concentrating the sun’s rays directly on the spot where Bert Everett was trapped! Not only Bert, but anyone who tried to rescue him, would literally be broiled alive!
"Chow! Get Bert out of here with your lariat!" Tom screamed into his suit mike as Ted veered away from the danger zone, shooting Tom a helpless look.
Chow responded with the cool skill of a veteran of the western range. Adjusting the noose of the rope in his big hands, he coiled it in a twinkling and swung the loop above his head. A second later the lariat snaked out through the void and settled around Bert’s struggling shoulders. With a yank, Chow dragged the victim to safety!
Cheers rose from the watching crewmen, including the two working on the atom-gatherers. But they died away in shocked silence after a glimpse at Bert’s deathly pale features.
Both Bert and Ted were hustled into the station infirmary as Tom called for Doc Simpson over the public address speaker. In the infirmary compartment the regular outpost medic, joined by Doc, stripped off their spacesuits and began to treat the scorched victims. Fortunately, Ted was shaken but unscathed by his brief exposure. Bert Everett, however, had suffered a severe shock from the intense rise in temperature inside his suit. Only its Tomasite sheathing had kept him from instant death. He was put to bed immediately and an intravenous line was inserted to restore his fluids.
"What happened?" Ted asked, as he and the other crewmen stood by Bert’s side, still stunned by their comrade’s accident,
Tom picked up Bert’s discarded spacesuit and examined it. "The heat from the reflector fused the fuel pump mechanism so he couldn’t fire his thrusters," Tom explained. "Without them, he had no way of moving out of the concentration point once he’d stopped!"
Bert grinned up at them wanly from his bed. "It was like one of those nightmares where you find yourself rooted to the spot!"
"How do you feel?" Tom asked sympathetically.
"A bit dehydrated, but otherwise okay. By the way, Chow"—Bert turned to the wide-waisted Westerner—"thanks for hauling me out. If you hadn’t lassooed me, I’d be lookin’ like a toasted marshmallow right now!"
Chow began to protest modestly, but Tom, putting his arm around Chow’s shoulders, declared: "You deserve a medal, pard!"
"Jest showin’ what a old-timer kin do!" responded the cook, flushed with pleasure.
Others in the great space station, having heard Tom’s panicky voice on the loudspeaker, now crowded into the infirmary—Mr. Swift, Sandy and Bash, Ken Horton, and finally Bud Barclay, knuckling sleep from his eyes.
After Bert had narrated what had happened, Bud said, "And there I was on my sleep period! Guess I really missed your moment in the, er, sun, Chow."
"Bert’s going to be all right," noted Ted Spring. "That’s the main thing."
Sandy said, "I’m just glad you’re going to be all right, Ted."
"I will be now," he replied suavely.
During the course of the infirmary’s hubbing and bubbing Bud had slipped out unseen, a sly grin on his lips. In a sort time he returned. He was carrying a small loosely wrapped package. "For you, Chow," he announced, handing it to the chef. "A small token of my esteem, ya big ol’ rope-wrangler."
Grinning proudly, Chow unwrapped the package. The next moment his grin turned to open-mouthed amazement. Inside lay a small green Texas lizard! Its beady eyes stared up at the weathered cowpoke as its throat pouch slowly pulsed in and out.
"Great balls o’ fire!" For a moment Chow could scarcely believe his eyes. Then he turned to Tom. "Brand my prairie cactus, boss, did you make this here critter with that machine o’ yours?"
CHAPTER 12
MANNA FROM HEAVEN!
"NOT guilty, pardner!" Tom laughed. "This is definitely a Barclay special!"
Chow was baffled. "Well, brand my wild turkey soup, where did this come from?" he muttered, stroking the lizard with his finger.
"Chow! Get Bert out of here with your lariat!" Tom screamed into his suit mike as Ted veered away from the danger zone, shooting Tom a helpless look.
Chow responded with the cool skill of a veteran of the western range. Adjusting the noose of the rope in his big hands, he coiled it in a twinkling and swung the loop above his head. A second later the lariat snaked out through the void and settled around Bert’s struggling shoulders. With a yank, Chow dragged the victim to safety!
Cheers rose from the watching crewmen, including the two working on the atom-gatherers. But they died away in shocked silence after a glimpse at Bert’s deathly pale features.
Both Bert and Ted were hustled into the station infirmary as Tom called for Doc Simpson over the public address speaker. In the infirmary compartment the regular outpost medic, joined by Doc, stripped off their spacesuits and began to treat the scorched victims. Fortunately, Ted was shaken but unscathed by his brief exposure. Bert Everett, however, had suffered a severe shock from the intense rise in temperature inside his suit. Only its Tomasite sheathing had kept him from instant death. He was put to bed immediately and an intravenous line was inserted to restore his fluids.
"What happened?" Ted asked, as he and the other crewmen stood by Bert’s side, still stunned by their comrade’s accident,
Tom picked up Bert’s discarded spacesuit and examined it. "The heat from the reflector fused the fuel pump mechanism so he couldn’t fire his thrusters," Tom explained. "Without them, he had no way of moving out of the concentration point once he’d stopped!"
Bert grinned up at them wanly from his bed. "It was like one of those nightmares where you find yourself rooted to the spot!"
"How do you feel?" Tom asked sympathetically.
"A bit dehydrated, but otherwise okay. By the way, Chow"—Bert turned to the wide-waisted Westerner—"thanks for hauling me out. If you hadn’t lassooed me, I’d be lookin’ like a toasted marshmallow right now!"
Chow began to protest modestly, but Tom, putting his arm around Chow’s shoulders, declared: "You deserve a medal, pard!"
"Jest showin’ what a old-timer kin do!" responded the cook, flushed with pleasure.
Others in the great space station, having heard Tom’s panicky voice on the loudspeaker, now crowded into the infirmary—Mr. Swift, Sandy and Bash, Ken Horton, and finally Bud Barclay, knuckling sleep from his eyes.
After Bert had narrated what had happened, Bud said, "And there I was on my sleep period! Guess I really missed your moment in the, er, sun, Chow."
"Bert’s going to be all right," noted Ted Spring. "That’s the main thing."
Sandy said, "I’m just glad you’re going to be all right, Ted."
"I will be now," he replied suavely.
During the course of the infirmary’s hubbing and bubbing Bud had slipped out unseen, a sly grin on his lips. In a sort time he returned. He was carrying a small loosely wrapped package. "For you, Chow," he announced, handing it to the chef. "A small token of my esteem, ya big ol’ rope-wrangler."
Grinning proudly, Chow unwrapped the package. The next moment his grin turned to open-mouthed amazement. Inside lay a small green Texas lizard! Its beady eyes stared up at the weathered cowpoke as its throat pouch slowly pulsed in and out.
"Great balls o’ fire!" For a moment Chow could scarcely believe his eyes. Then he turned to Tom. "Brand my prairie cactus, boss, did you make this here critter with that machine o’ yours?"
CHAPTER 12
MANNA FROM HEAVEN!
"NOT guilty, pardner!" Tom laughed. "This is definitely a Barclay special!"
Chow was baffled. "Well, brand my wild turkey soup, where did this come from?" he muttered, stroking the lizard with his finger.
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