“Good thing the main shift of workers knocked off before this happened,” Bud observed with a shudder.  “There would’ve been a lot more casualties.”

“Look!” Tom pointed to a huge crevasse.  “Right where we landed our Whirling Duck!”

The boys exchanged rueful glances as they realized that the craft which had brought them to Faber Electronics—­one of Tom’s unique helijets—­had been swallowed up in the gaping chasm.

“No use fussing about it now,” Tom said.  “Come on, Bud!  Let’s see about getting help for Mr. Faber!”

Despite the chaotic confusion, the boys managed to locate the plant superintendent—­a harried, middle-aged man named Simkins—­who was doing his best to restore order.  Simkins, who had not been injured, informed them that electricians were rigging an emergency telephone line in order to get through to the nearby town of Harkness.

“Mr. Faber is badly injured,” Tom said.  “Why not send a car?  It’s only a few miles away, isn’t it?”

“I’ll send the plant nurse to him,” Simkins said.  “As for going to town, take a look at the parking lot.”  He pointed with a jerk of his thumb.  The cars on the lot had been smashed into junk by bricks from a collapsing wall of one of the buildings.  “And the only truck we had available was in that burning shed,” the superintendent added bitterly.

“Tough break,” Tom sympathized.  “Anyhow, we want to help.  Got a job for us?”

Simkins was only too glad to put Tom’s quick mind and keen technical know-how to use.  Within minutes, Tom was in charge of clearing away rubble and extricating anyone who might be trapped inside the buildings.  Bud organized a fire-fighting crew to keep the blaze in the shed from spreading.

The telephone line was soon repaired and a steady stream of rescue vehicles began arriving from Harkness—­fire trucks, three ambulances, and private cars driven by volunteers.

Two hours later there was nothing more Tom and Bud could do at the disaster scene and they hitched a ride into Harkness.  The town had suffered some damage, though only slight compared to the destruction at the plant.

“The center of the quake was right under Faber Electronics,” Tom remarked.

From a pay telephone, he called Swift Enterprises in Shopton.  This was the experimental station where he and his father developed their many amazing inventions.  Tom asked the operator to send a helicopter immediately to pick them up.  He also called home and spoke to his sister, Sandra.

“What a relief!” Sandy gasped.  “We heard a bulletin about the quake over the radio!”

“Don’t worry, Sis.  Tell Mother and Dad that we’re okay,” Tom said.  “We’ll be home in a jiffy—­with big appetites!”

The helicopter arrived within twenty minutes at the place Tom had named.  After landing at Enterprises, the boys drove to the pleasant, tree-shaded Swift home on the outskirts of town.