Bolts by Alexander Key

“Something’s sure gone wrong,” he said dolefully.
    â€œHe seemed very hard pressed the last time he spoke,” said the commander. “I’m awfully afraid he’s been captured—or worse …”
    â€œPoor little puppy dog,” muttered Butch.
    Bingo sat biting his knuckles. Suddenly he looked at the parrot. “What’s happened, Pirate?” he begged. “Bolts isn’t d-dead, is he?”
    â€œHa!” the jealous parrot cackled happily. “He might as well be dead. He’s deep in the ground where he belongs, and good riddance!”
    â€œPirate!” snapped the commander. “That’s no way to talk about a new member of the family. Bolts may be ignorant and uncouth, but he’s just as much a member of the Brown family as you are, and that practically makes him your brother.”
    â€œSorry relation,” grumbled the parrot. “But if you want him, you can have him—if you can get him. He’s crawled into a hole.”
    â€œThat’s it!” Bingo cried. “He’s crawled into a narrow hole where he can’t use his radio. What direction is it from here, Pirate?”
    â€œSou’east by south,” Pirate admitted reluctantly.
    â€œHow far?”
    â€œThree hundred and nine and a quarter miles—and that’s all I’m telling you. You’ve strained my second sight to the breaking point!”
    Bingo’s fingers flew over the control buttons. The earth seemed to shift, and below them a new range of mountains appeared. Now Bingo pressed the down button, and the Space Jumper, like a falling elevator, began to descend through the atmosphere. Everyone except Big Butch felt an oopity feeling in his stomach, which is the opposite of the umpity feeling of going up.
    A half mile above the mountains, Bingo halted the Space Jumper and everyone peered down through the viewing ports. There were wild and barren ridges below them, some topped with snow, but at this height neither Bingo nor the commander could make out details. Big Butch, however, had built-in super vision, and could spot a beetle at a thousand yards.

    â€œSee anything?” Bingo asked.
    â€œNot a soul,” Big Butch answered. “If that poor little dog was being chased, there’d be men around. Your navigation must be off.”
    â€œJiminy!” Bingo exclaimed. “I’ll bet Pirate gave me the distance in nautical miles. I was using land miles.”
    â€œLubber!” squawked Pirate. “You’ll never be a sailor.”
    â€œAw, we were traveling over land,” Bingo said. “So naturally I thought …” His fingers flew over the button panel again, and now an auxiliary jet motor began to drive them forward. It seemed terribly slow after their zip speed in space, but finally new peaks were beneath them, with a desert in the distance.
    â€œThere they are!” Big Butch cried. “In that little valley. Men, horses, dogs—lots of them! There’s a hole in the rocks, and they’re digging in it!”
    â€œKeep your eye on them,” the commander ordered. “Quick, Bingo, call Bolts again.”
    Poor Bolts, half a mile and some spare feet below, was still unable to use his radio. After overhearing Major Mangler’s unpleasant plans for him, his main concern was to get as far down in the hole as possible.
    He had managed to turn around once more, and squeeze past rocks he couldn’t dig out with his paws. Once he wondered how he could escape from the hole—if that happy chance ever came—then he told himself, “Aw, what’s the diff? I’ll worry about that later.”
    His sniffer had already warned him that he was not alone down here. There was some sort of critter ahead—a very cautious and quiet critter that kept retreating as he advanced. He decided he had better get acquainted with it before trouble cut loose on them both.
    â€œHey,