"
"There's the _Polaris_, sir," yelled Tom. "She's still on her
directional fins! They missed her! She's O.K.!"
"By the blessed rings of Saturn, she is!" exclaimed Connel. "Go on, Tom,
give this baby the gun! If we have to die, let's die like spacemen, in
space, fighting with spaceman's weapons, not crawling around here in the
jungle like worms!"
The three boys smiled at their skipper's rousing statement. "This is the
time," thought Tom, "when I'd rather have Major Connel in command than
anyone else in the Solar Guard." If there was to be a fight, then they
certainly had found the man who knew how to do just that! Fight!
[Illustration]
Tom swooped over the treetops recklessly, and fearing the blast had
damaged the jet-boat air lock, brought the small craft to rest in the
blinding dust a few yards away from the _Polaris_.
Three minutes later the four spacemen had separated and were standing by
their respective posts. Hasty but thorough checks were made to determine
the damage, and finding none, they prepared to raise ship.
"All clear forward and up," Alfie reported in a high squeaking voice.
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