stopping the flow of gas from beneath the undersea mountain. Then the work crew stowed the earth blaster away in the seacop’s exterior hold.
After the three took a last look at the capping mechanism, sealed and silent, Tom was flushed with happiness and sheer relief. He sonophoned the other aquanauts to return to the seacopter—the work was done for the day.
His words were cut short by a strangled cry. "Help! S-something’s gone wrong with my air supply!" It was Bob Anchor’s voice. "I can’t b-breathe! I’m losing—"
The call died away in a choking gasp!
CHAPTER 7
A MISFIRED PRANK
"QUICK! We must get him back to the ship!" Tom urged Hank.
In agonized suspense the two jetted through the water as fast as they could to their friend’s side. Through the viewdome they could see Bob’s eyes bulging, his face turning reddish purple!
"We’ve got to hurry!" Tom urged. A stark fear welled up from the back of his mind.
Had the phantom submarine somehow exposed Bob to the deadly neurotoxin? And would Hank and Tom be the next to experience its horrifying effects?
Tom and Hank desperately grasped the helpless form in their metal hands, standing on either side. As they half-carried, half-dragged Bob’s Fat Man toward the seacopter, Tom noted with thanks that Bud, overhearing the crisis, had steered the Sea Hound nearer and opened the aquatic hatch. Bob was roughly thrust aboard and the hatch sealed behind them. As the water in the lock was pumped away, Tom ordered Bud to keep the inner hatch tightly closed.
"We don’t know what we’re dealing with," he murmured. Bud and Dr. Clisby grasped his unuttered meaning.
Tom and Hank remained sealed in their own suits as a precaution while they used the emergency release lever to force open Bob’s suit. The scientist lay collapsed against his safety restraints. His mouth hung open. For a terrible moment Tom felt certain he was not alive. But then Anchor’s chest heaved and he began gasping for air.
"Can you hear me?" Tom asked over his suit’s external speaker.
Bob forced a nod, his eyes fluttering open. "I’m all right!" he mouthed weakly.
Dr. Clisby was observing them through the small port in the airlock hatch, his face gray with fear for his colleague. Holding a microphone to his lips, he told them: "His reaction does not indicate an effect of the toxin. I’m testing the water and air… yes, it appears to be safe." At Tom’s okay, the hatch to the cabin was opened and Bud and Clisby rushed in to help Bob while Tom and Hank wriggled out of their suits.
Bob was carried to the aft cabin of the seacopter, where a bunk was folded down from the curving bulkhead for him to rest on. As Tom rushed to his side, he gave the young inventor a pained, apologetic look. "I don’t know what happened out there," he said. "I couldn’t catch my breath—guess I panicked."
"No one could blame you," offered Dr. Clisby gently. Tom could sense the warm affection between the two scientists.
"What went wrong?" Bud queried.
"Something happened to his air supply," Tom replied. Taking a small kit of tools, he crawled inside the defective Fat Man and tinkered for several minutes.
"Flutter valve was jammed shut," he announced as he emerged from the suit. "But it’s fixed now."
Hank Sterling received Tom’s news with a frown of disbelief. "Those valves are checked and cleaned regularly. It’s standard procedure."
Tom gave a wry nod. "Right. And it was standard procedure to inspect the pressure tank walls, too."
"It’s no accident," declared Bud firmly. "The Moby gang plans to get us all out of the picture any way they can!" Tom could only respond with a shrug.
The near-tragic accident was temporarily forgotten when the group excitedly discussed the helium strike on the mountain shelf. "Judging by the quantity of gas bubbles, this whole area is loaded with helium!" Bob Anchor declared.
"Fine," said Bud. "Now genius boy here has to work some inventive magic so we can work the
After the three took a last look at the capping mechanism, sealed and silent, Tom was flushed with happiness and sheer relief. He sonophoned the other aquanauts to return to the seacopter—the work was done for the day.
His words were cut short by a strangled cry. "Help! S-something’s gone wrong with my air supply!" It was Bob Anchor’s voice. "I can’t b-breathe! I’m losing—"
The call died away in a choking gasp!
CHAPTER 7
A MISFIRED PRANK
"QUICK! We must get him back to the ship!" Tom urged Hank.
In agonized suspense the two jetted through the water as fast as they could to their friend’s side. Through the viewdome they could see Bob’s eyes bulging, his face turning reddish purple!
"We’ve got to hurry!" Tom urged. A stark fear welled up from the back of his mind.
Had the phantom submarine somehow exposed Bob to the deadly neurotoxin? And would Hank and Tom be the next to experience its horrifying effects?
Tom and Hank desperately grasped the helpless form in their metal hands, standing on either side. As they half-carried, half-dragged Bob’s Fat Man toward the seacopter, Tom noted with thanks that Bud, overhearing the crisis, had steered the Sea Hound nearer and opened the aquatic hatch. Bob was roughly thrust aboard and the hatch sealed behind them. As the water in the lock was pumped away, Tom ordered Bud to keep the inner hatch tightly closed.
"We don’t know what we’re dealing with," he murmured. Bud and Dr. Clisby grasped his unuttered meaning.
Tom and Hank remained sealed in their own suits as a precaution while they used the emergency release lever to force open Bob’s suit. The scientist lay collapsed against his safety restraints. His mouth hung open. For a terrible moment Tom felt certain he was not alive. But then Anchor’s chest heaved and he began gasping for air.
"Can you hear me?" Tom asked over his suit’s external speaker.
Bob forced a nod, his eyes fluttering open. "I’m all right!" he mouthed weakly.
Dr. Clisby was observing them through the small port in the airlock hatch, his face gray with fear for his colleague. Holding a microphone to his lips, he told them: "His reaction does not indicate an effect of the toxin. I’m testing the water and air… yes, it appears to be safe." At Tom’s okay, the hatch to the cabin was opened and Bud and Clisby rushed in to help Bob while Tom and Hank wriggled out of their suits.
Bob was carried to the aft cabin of the seacopter, where a bunk was folded down from the curving bulkhead for him to rest on. As Tom rushed to his side, he gave the young inventor a pained, apologetic look. "I don’t know what happened out there," he said. "I couldn’t catch my breath—guess I panicked."
"No one could blame you," offered Dr. Clisby gently. Tom could sense the warm affection between the two scientists.
"What went wrong?" Bud queried.
"Something happened to his air supply," Tom replied. Taking a small kit of tools, he crawled inside the defective Fat Man and tinkered for several minutes.
"Flutter valve was jammed shut," he announced as he emerged from the suit. "But it’s fixed now."
Hank Sterling received Tom’s news with a frown of disbelief. "Those valves are checked and cleaned regularly. It’s standard procedure."
Tom gave a wry nod. "Right. And it was standard procedure to inspect the pressure tank walls, too."
"It’s no accident," declared Bud firmly. "The Moby gang plans to get us all out of the picture any way they can!" Tom could only respond with a shrug.
The near-tragic accident was temporarily forgotten when the group excitedly discussed the helium strike on the mountain shelf. "Judging by the quantity of gas bubbles, this whole area is loaded with helium!" Bob Anchor declared.
"Fine," said Bud. "Now genius boy here has to work some inventive magic so we can work the
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