Tom Swift in the Caves of Nuclear Fire by Victor Appleton II Page B

morning Tom, Bud, and Craig returned to the mountain, arriving about ten. "It really isn’t far when you don’t have to hack your way through," Bud remarked.
    They crossed the clear section of ground at the base of the mountain, deserted as a moonscape, and veered around a rocky outcropping, bringing their destination in sight. As the tank approached the crevice, Bud gave an involuntary gasp of surprise.
    "Tom, the containers! They’ve disappeared!"

CHAPTER 12
AN ENEMY RETURNS
    THE mysterious mountain had played her strange trick again! The containers for capturing the gas had vanished!
    "This is the same crevice where we left those bottles, isn’t it?" Bud asked.
    "It has to be," Craig declared. "Don’t you guys remember those big rocks we just went around? And over there’s where we sat in the shade for a few minutes."
    Tom, disappointed, put on his antiradiation suit and got out of the tank. The others, similarly garbed, followed and they all walked closer to the narrow opening.
    "This certainly is an enigma," murmured the young inventor. "You’re absolutely sure, Craig, that the locals wouldn’t steal the containers?"
    "Out of the question!" Craig replied. "As I told you, the mountain is strictly taboo and no Maba would dare come this close or he’d be banished from the tribe."
    "But maybe whoever took the containers isn’t a Maba," Bud remarked ominously. "Boondah’s men are supposed to be hiding all through this jungle. And let’s not forget Hoplin and company!"
    As Tom pondered the strange phenomenon of the mountain, Craig asked, "Do you think something could have caused the bottles to shatter or explode?"
    "If they had," Tom replied, "we’d see fragments lying around. But there’s not a scrap." He stepped closer to the edge of the crevice and peered down into the black abyss. "My guess is that when the gas was released during the night not one of my containers was proof against it."
    "Good night!" Bud exclaimed. "Then nothing will store that stuff!"
    "I have another idea I’d like to try," said Tom, frowning. "But I’ll need some things from the Flying Lab."
    As the trio walked back to the tank, a massive shadow swept across their path as a low sound reached their ears. They looked up to see a small twin-engine prop-plane swooping low. The craft then turned steeply and flew out of sight without dipping its wings in salute.
    "Who could that have been?" Craig asked. "The pilot acted as if he was spying on us!"
    "Who could it have been? I’ll tell you who it was! —our enemies!" Bud snorted. "The plane looked like an American-built one. I’ll bet it’s the same one the policeman told us about."
    "And the same one that dropped those incendiary bombs on the village," said Craig in agreement.
    "There certainly was something fishy about that flier’s maneuvers," murmured Tom. "Why would he fly so low over this particular spot? I’m going to notify the authorities when we get back to the Queen."
    They entered the terrasphere tank and Tom flicked the ignition. Nothing happened—the engine was silent!
    "Oh no," the young inventor groaned. "The taboo mountain gremlin has struck again. Everything’s dead." Then a horrifying thought struck him. "And we can’t stay here, or we might end up the same way!"
    "What? How so?" demanded Craig.
    "I think this anti-electrical phenomenon is connected to the release of the antiproton gas," Tom explained. "If it’s occurring now, that may mean the gas is on its way—it may even be issuing from the crevice right now."
    "Sure," Bud agreed nervously. "Maybe we can’t see it in the bright sunlight. But if it gobbled up those containers, it’ll do the same to our antirad suits—and us!"
    "Then what do we do, Tom?" Craig asked. "Abandon the tank?"
    "We’ll have to, at least temporarily," was the answer. "Hopefully the gas will be diluted enough in the air that it won’t hurt the tank—but we can’t be sure."
    The three expeditioners trotted across the barren stretch