h, and then,
focusing his chest light, called to Astro.

"O.K., Astro," he said, "shoot me the juice!"

"Coming up, Tom!" answered Astro. "And wait till I get my hands on that
Manning! I'm going to smear that yellow space crawler from one corner of
the universe to another!"

"Never mind the talk," snarled Roger, who at the moment was re-entering
the tube. "Just get that juice down to this torch and make it fast!"

Tom turned to see Roger crawling back into the tube and adjusting a
cutting torch.

"Glad to have you aboard, Roger," said Tom with a smile that Roger could
not see in the darkness of the tube. The two boys went to work.

Suddenly the torches came to life. And immediately Tom and Roger began
to cut away at the cleats that held the tube lining to the skin of the
ship. Steadily, the cadets worked their way up toward the center of the
ship, cutting anything that looked as though it might hold the giant
tube to the ship.

"Boy," said Tom, "it's getting hot in here!"

From inside the ship, Astro's reassuring voice came back in answer.
"You're getting close to the reactant-mass chamber. The last cleat is up
by one of the exhaust gratings. Think you can last it?"

"Well, if he can't," snarled Roger, "he's sure to get that medal
anyway!" He inched up a little. "Move over, Corbett, I'm skinnier than
you are, and I can reach that cleat easier than you can."

Roger slipped past Tom and inched his way toward the last cleat. He
pulled his torch up alongside and pulled the trigger. The flame shot out
and began eating the steel. In a moment the last cleat was cut and the
two boys started their long haul down the tube to the outside of the
ship.

As they walked across the steel surface, back to the air lock, Tom stuck
out his hand.

"I'm glad you came back, Roger."

"Save it for the boys that fall for that stuff, Corbett," said Roger
sarcastically. "I came back because I didn't want you and that Venusian
hick to think you're the only ones with guts around here!"

"No one has ever accused you of not having guts, Roger."

"Ah--go blast your jets," snarled Roger.

They went directly to the power deck where Astro was waiting for them,
the Geiger counter in his hand.

"All set to get rid of the rotten apple?" he asked with a smile.

"All set, Astro," said Tom. "What's the count?"

"She seems to have steadied around fourteen hundred ninety--and believe
me, the ten points to the official danger mark of fiftee