When we see Major 'Blast-off' Connel again,
we'll be giving the orders with a paralo-ray!"
The two disgruntled spacemen turned quickly and walked to the nearest
slidewalk, disappearing around a building.
Aboard the _Polaris_, Tom confronted his two unit-mates.
"Now look, fellows. After the hard time Major Connel just gave us, let's
see if we can't really stay on the ball from now on."
"All right by me, Tom," Astro said, nodding his head.
"You're having space dreams, Corbett!" drawled Roger. "No matter what we
do for old 'Blast-off' we'll wind up behind the eight ball."
"But if we really try," urged Tom, "if we all do our jobs, there can't
be anything for him to fuss about."
"We'll make it tough for him to give us any demerits," Astro chimed in.
"Right," said Tom.
"It won't work," grumbled Roger. "You saw the way he chewed us up, and
for what? I ask you--for what?"
"He was just trying to live up to his reputation, Roger," replied Tom.
"But common sense will tell you that if you're on the ball you won't get
demerits."
"What's the matter, hot-shot?" growled Astro. "Afraid of a little work?"
"Listen, you Venusian clunk," sneered Roger, "I'll work the pants off
you any day in the week, and that includes Titan days, too!"
"O.
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