Tom Swift and His Electronic Retroscope by Victor Appleton II Page A
Authors: Victor Appleton II
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borne any carvings. But rather than offend the prickly Hutchcraft, he placed it in front of the camera and switched on the power again. He carefully focused the beam-emitters.
But this time no picture formed on the screen. Instead, the rock suddenly exploded, showering the onlookers with shrapnel-like pieces of debris!
CHAPTER 12
HIDDEN RESCUER
CRIES and groans went up from the natives. Many had been hit by flying bits of rock. Bud was bleeding from cut on the cheek, and Doc Simpson had been grazed on the forehead. Professor Castillez was feeling about in the tall grass—his glasses had been blown right off his nose!
"Brand my flyin’ flapjacks, what was in that stone?" Chow gasped in bewilderment. "A charge o’ blastin’ powder?"
"I sure wouldn’t be surprised!" Bud snapped, dabbing his cheek with a handkerchief. "Maybe our helpful friend here can tell us!" He clenched his fists angrily and started toward Hutchcraft.
"Take it easy, pal!" Tom said, stopping him. "We have enough trouble already."
"Thanks to Hutchcraft!" Bud stormed. "If you ask me, he knew this would happen!"
The Bostonian looked pale and somewhat frightened by the havoc he had caused. But before he could answer Bud’s charges, Tom intervened.
"We’ll talk about that later," the young scientist-inventor said quietly. He turned to Hu-Quetzal. "Have any of your people been hurt, ahau?"
The chief shook his head. "No. They were not as close. Perhaps a few are cut. No more."
"Thank goodness!"
"Yes. But they are afraid now." The Mayan edged closer, his expression grave. He spoke slowly, reaching for the words in English. "Tom-Swift, you are a good man. I know this was not your fault. Your camera is a wonderful thing indeed. But the sastun of Juxtlanpoc, the carved stone upon which we stand in ceremony—these are sacred to Huratlcuyon. As ahau, I cannot allow them to be put in danger, not even for a good cause. You will find other carvings here in Yucatan. Perhaps when your machine has been made perfect—"
Tom tried to keep the disappointment from his face and the bitterness from his voice. "I understand, Chief Quetzal. Naturally, the decision is yours."
Doc and Chow hastened to bring first-aid kits from the packs in the hut. Meanwhile, Tom and Ahau Quetzal did their best to calm the excited Mayas.
Fortunately, the only injuries were minor cuts and bruises. As Tom applied antiseptic and bandages, the superstitious victims began to calm down.
When the situation was finally under control, Tom strode determinedly to Hutchcraft, sitting in the shadow of a hut. "Where did that stone come from?" he demanded of the archaeologist, as Bud Barclay approached menacingly from his other side.
The man stood, and for once he seemed to have misplaced his bravado. "It wasn’t really a carved stone," Hutchcraft admitted sheepishly. "I found it in back of Castillez’s truck, and thought I’d play a trick on you."
"Mighty fine trick!" Bud growled. Hutchcraft eyed the youth’s broad shoulders and muscular arms, and gulped. "I suppose if someone had lost an eye, you’d be laughing your head off!"
"I didn’t know the thing would explode!" Hutchcraft said sulkily. "I only wanted to get even for Chow’s nasty attack on me last night. I thought I could fool you fellows into believing your machine wouldn’t work. Just a harmless prank, that’s all."
Bud received his lame excuses with a snort of disgust.
Tom picked up what was left of the stone. He examined it, together with several of the exploded fragments. "You say you found this in the truck bed?" he asked Hutchcraft.
The Bostonian nodded. "It looked like an ordinary stone. I assumed it was something you’d used to prop up your equipment."
"It’s a form of mica, hydrous silicate," Tom said. "Must have been dumped into the truck on a hauling job some time or other. I guess that explains its blowing up."
"How come?" Bud asked, still suspicious.
Tom sighed at his bad luck. "This stuff breaks down
But this time no picture formed on the screen. Instead, the rock suddenly exploded, showering the onlookers with shrapnel-like pieces of debris!
CHAPTER 12
HIDDEN RESCUER
CRIES and groans went up from the natives. Many had been hit by flying bits of rock. Bud was bleeding from cut on the cheek, and Doc Simpson had been grazed on the forehead. Professor Castillez was feeling about in the tall grass—his glasses had been blown right off his nose!
"Brand my flyin’ flapjacks, what was in that stone?" Chow gasped in bewilderment. "A charge o’ blastin’ powder?"
"I sure wouldn’t be surprised!" Bud snapped, dabbing his cheek with a handkerchief. "Maybe our helpful friend here can tell us!" He clenched his fists angrily and started toward Hutchcraft.
"Take it easy, pal!" Tom said, stopping him. "We have enough trouble already."
"Thanks to Hutchcraft!" Bud stormed. "If you ask me, he knew this would happen!"
The Bostonian looked pale and somewhat frightened by the havoc he had caused. But before he could answer Bud’s charges, Tom intervened.
"We’ll talk about that later," the young scientist-inventor said quietly. He turned to Hu-Quetzal. "Have any of your people been hurt, ahau?"
The chief shook his head. "No. They were not as close. Perhaps a few are cut. No more."
"Thank goodness!"
"Yes. But they are afraid now." The Mayan edged closer, his expression grave. He spoke slowly, reaching for the words in English. "Tom-Swift, you are a good man. I know this was not your fault. Your camera is a wonderful thing indeed. But the sastun of Juxtlanpoc, the carved stone upon which we stand in ceremony—these are sacred to Huratlcuyon. As ahau, I cannot allow them to be put in danger, not even for a good cause. You will find other carvings here in Yucatan. Perhaps when your machine has been made perfect—"
Tom tried to keep the disappointment from his face and the bitterness from his voice. "I understand, Chief Quetzal. Naturally, the decision is yours."
Doc and Chow hastened to bring first-aid kits from the packs in the hut. Meanwhile, Tom and Ahau Quetzal did their best to calm the excited Mayas.
Fortunately, the only injuries were minor cuts and bruises. As Tom applied antiseptic and bandages, the superstitious victims began to calm down.
When the situation was finally under control, Tom strode determinedly to Hutchcraft, sitting in the shadow of a hut. "Where did that stone come from?" he demanded of the archaeologist, as Bud Barclay approached menacingly from his other side.
The man stood, and for once he seemed to have misplaced his bravado. "It wasn’t really a carved stone," Hutchcraft admitted sheepishly. "I found it in back of Castillez’s truck, and thought I’d play a trick on you."
"Mighty fine trick!" Bud growled. Hutchcraft eyed the youth’s broad shoulders and muscular arms, and gulped. "I suppose if someone had lost an eye, you’d be laughing your head off!"
"I didn’t know the thing would explode!" Hutchcraft said sulkily. "I only wanted to get even for Chow’s nasty attack on me last night. I thought I could fool you fellows into believing your machine wouldn’t work. Just a harmless prank, that’s all."
Bud received his lame excuses with a snort of disgust.
Tom picked up what was left of the stone. He examined it, together with several of the exploded fragments. "You say you found this in the truck bed?" he asked Hutchcraft.
The Bostonian nodded. "It looked like an ordinary stone. I assumed it was something you’d used to prop up your equipment."
"It’s a form of mica, hydrous silicate," Tom said. "Must have been dumped into the truck on a hauling job some time or other. I guess that explains its blowing up."
"How come?" Bud asked, still suspicious.
Tom sighed at his bad luck. "This stuff breaks down
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