ious
Enterprises' departments for other items. Bud helped to collect them,
and the boys trucked the paraphernalia out to a hangar to be loaded
aboard a Whirling Duck. Then they scootered back to the lab for a quick
shower and change.

Twenty minutes later, in sport jackets, checked shirts, and slacks, the
two chums hopped into Bud's red convertible. They picked up Sandy and
Phyl and drove a little way into the country for dinner at a huge old
farmhouse restaurant.

"Well, the evening's off to a good start," Sandy said with a happy laugh
as they headed back along the lakeshore road to the yacht club.

"Hope I didn't put away too much fried chicken to sashay properly at the
square dance," Bud remarked.

Tom chuckled. "Don't worry, pal. You always untangle those feet of yours
when the fiddle strikes up!"

The blazing lights of the yacht club were reflected in the blue-black
mirror of the boat basin. Bud parked and they went inside.

"Welcome, buckaroos!" Chow Winkler greeted them with an enthusiastic
bellow as they entered the dance room.

The old cowpoke was splendidly dressed in a maroon satin shirt and white
whipcord breeches tucked into shiny new boots. But instead of his usual
sombrero, a chef's cap was perched on his head.

"Chow! You look marvelous!" Sandy said.

The cook blushed with pleasure. "You gals look purty enough to charm a
hoot owl right off'n his perch!" he shot back. Both Phyl and Sandy were
wearing gay calico dresses that had full swirling skirts.

The room was decked out with colored bunting and twisted crepe-paper
streamers. And at one end of the dance room, Chow had rigged up a model
of a Western chuck wagon.

"Real atmosphere!" Tom said admiringly. "Chow, you've done us proud!"

"Thanks, boss." The cook, who had asked especially to take charge of the
decorations, glowed at the praise. Then he became serious. "But what's
keepin' that dad-blamed fiddler?"

The guests soon began to stream in, but half an hour went by, and Lester
Morris and his fellow musicians had not arrived.

"I'd better phone his house," Tom decided worriedly.

Mrs. Morris answered. She seemed surprised at Tom's call. "Why, my
husband's playing at a party over in Carterton this evening," she said.
"Are you sure you engaged him for tonight?"

"I'm positive," Tom replied.

"Just a moment, please. I'll look in his date book to see if there's
been a mistake."

A minute later her voice came over the line again. "I'