Free Tom Swift and His Repelatron Skyway by Victor Appleton II Page A

what it’s made of that caught my eye. Look at the shape of it, guys."
    They moved closer and bent down to examine it. "What do you suppose it is? Some kind of tribal god?" speculated Ted. "Looks like an elephant standing up on his hind legs, with the head of a crocodile."
    "Yep," Tom agreed. "But to my eyes it also looks like a crude version of something else—a dinosaur!"
    Bud raised an eyebrow. "It does look a little like a T-rex at that, now that you mention it. The ivory whittler must be up on all the latest movies from America."
    "Maybe that’s it," Tom commented back faintly—as if he doubted the pronouncement. He couldn’t help but remember the rumor of strange beasts roaming the local jungles.
    "Let’s get going," chuckled Bud Barclay wryly, "before the proprietor starts trying to convince us it comes from Atlantis or something!"
    They soon reached the airport and the comforts of the Sky Queen , where Chow Winkler’s Africanized dinner awaited them—and it was delicious.
    The last of the day dwindled away in bits and pieces and the skies shone with an ivory moon and a wash of stars. Bud, having born the brunt of the cross-world flight as pilot, was asleep in a bunk. Too excited to sleep, Tom sat in the lounge chatting with Hank Sterling about the engineering challenges of the Ngombia project.
    "Maybe we should be thinking in terms of something like a high-speed bullet train with tracks suspended up above the swamp," suggested the young, square-jawed chief engineer of Swift Enterprises.
    "Now that there’s a thought, boys," put in Chow, who had come forward from the galley to join them. "How ’bout one o’ them monny-rails, boss? I hear that’s purty much th’ modern thing—got one in Las Vegas!"
    "It is a thought," Tom agreed. "It’s just that the Ngombians seem to be thinking in terms of moving big volumes of― "
    All three stiffened in shock as a bloodcurdling screech suddenly resounded throughout deck three! " He—ee—elp! " cried a frantic voice. "Get this monster away from me!"
    "It’s Bud!" Tom exclaimed, bolting up from his padded sofa.
    Tom dashed aft through the carpeted passageway, with Hank behind him and Chow waddling excitedly at their heels. They had the same thought. If something had set off brave, athletic Bud Barclay, it was certain to be a menace and a half!
    When they reached the crew’s bunkroom, the men stopped short in astonishment. Bud was flattened down in a wall bunk, staring up at one of the weirdest creatures the boys or Chow had ever seen!
    The tiny beast was perched on the pillow at Bud’s head. It was leaning forward with its long bony fingers on Bud’s temples while it peered down hypnotically into the youth’s eyes.
    "G-g-great hoppin’ horned toads!" Chow sputtered. "What kind o’ critter is that? This some kind o’ joke, buddy boy?"
    "If—if it is—somebody else is pullin’ it!" gasped Bud. The little animal, small enough to nestle in a man’s hand, had brownish fur and a long tail. As Chow spoke, it looked up at the three newcomers.
    "Good grief," Tom muttered. "Head lamps for eyes!" Its huge orange eyes, with pinpoint pupils, seemed to take up most of the creature’s face. Large, batlike ears made it look even queerer.
    "Hank—Tom—somebody!— get it off me! " Bud begged the watchers. "Don’t just stand there! Do something!" As if too afraid to shift his gaze, the youth continued to stare raptly into the face of his fantastic admirer.
    Footsteps came hurrying down the passageway, and Bill Bennings poked his head into the bunkroom.
    "Oh—oh! I was afraid of that!" he said apologetically. "Come here, Bushy, you little rascal!" The tiny creature leapt onto Bennings’s shoulder and disappeared inside his light Enterprises windbreaker.
    "You mean that pop-eyed goon belongs to you ?" Bud growled, sitting up and glaring at the crew member.
    "Well—er—yes. Little pet I picked up in town when I went out earlier today. A real bargain. She has all her