" he demanded.

Don Scott grinned lazily from the depths of his armchair. He was a husky
youth, perhaps an inch taller than Rick, with black hair and dark eyes.
"Since when do five people make a mob?" he inquired. "Besides, I think
adding more scientists to the staff is a good thing. So does Dad."

"I know it," Rick returned gloomily. "The others do, too. I'm a
downtrodden minority. No one sympathizes with me."

Scotty shook his head sadly. "Poor old Rick. Seriously, I don't get it.
You should be cheering the loudest. Think of what it means, pal! More
fields of science to explore, including one I never heard of before.
Maybe more expeditions, of different kinds than the ones we've been on
up to now."

"That's what I'm thinking about," Rick returned.

"Then why the gloom?"

"Because..." Rick stopped as the phone rang in the house.

Scotty got to his feet quickly. "I'll get it. Mom and Dad are down
watching the builders."

Rick smiled as Scotty went into the house. It pleased him to have Scotty
call Mr. and Mrs. Brant "Mom and Dad." It was a symbol of Scotty's
permanence in the family. No one had ever questioned Scotty's membership
in the Spindrift tribe since the day when the scrappy ex-Marine had
rescued Rick from a gang of thugs bent on destroying the Island
Foundation's moon rocket, and it was pleasant to think of Scotty as a
permanent brother. The two of them had been through some tight places
together and they were closer friends than brothers usually are. Like
Rick, Scotty was listed on the membership rolls of the Spindrift
Foundation as a junior technician.

Hartson W. Brant was listed as president, but it was Rick's pride that
he and Scotty had earned places because of their own worth, and not
because of their relationship with the scientist. However, their
abilities were not the same. Because of Rick's interest in science,
particularly electronics, he had become expert in intricate wiring and
he was rapidly learning about the design of equipment. Scotty's talent
was in the mechanical field. He could repair machinery and he was a whiz
with engines.

Thinking about work in the lab reminded Rick that he had an unfinished
project of his own on his workbench upstairs. He was half out of his
chair, determined to go upstairs and put the rest of the afternoon to
good use, when Scotty called.

"Rick! Hurry up."

He ran into the library and found Scotty holding the phone. "Here's a
funny one, Rick. The Whi