“Sandy!  You’ve guessed it!” Tom crossed the room in a single bound, gave his sister a quick hug, and whirled her around.  “Exman must mean the Bona Fide Submarine Building Corporation!  He didn’t dare risk telling us the exact translation.”

“Of course!” Mr. Swift was equally jubilant.  But his face was grave as he added, “The company’s located on the West Coast close to the San Andreas fault.  Tom, a quake in that area could be devastating!”

“You’re right, Dad,” the young inventor replied.  “I’ll call Dr. Miles and Bernt Ahlgren at once!”

The telephone conversation that followed was grim with tension.  Both government men begged Tom to take personal charge of the quake-deflection measures.  Dr. Miles pointed out that tremors along the fault might trigger off a chain of quakes amounting to a national disaster.

After a hasty discussion, Tom agreed that he should station himself at the Colorado site, rather than at the West Coast Quakelizor installation.  This would give him broader scope for damping out shock waves across the continent.

“I’ll fly out immediately!” the young inventor promised.

Ahlgren, meanwhile, would flash orders to the Bona Fide Company and to civilian officials to have the entire area evacuated as soon as possible.

Hasty preparations were made for Tom’s departure.  He telephoned the airfield to have a jet plane with lifters readied for take-off.  He also had Bud paged over the plant intercom.  The copilot came on the run.  When he heard the news, he was eager to accompany his pal.

“Listen, you two!  I insist you have something to eat before you leave!” Sandy declared.

Tom was impatient over any delay.  When Sandy proceeded to call Chow, the old Texan solved the problem by volunteering to go along as cook.

A short time later Chow came jouncing out to the airfield astride a motor scooter, hauling a cart loaded with supplies.

“Good grief!” Tom said, unable to suppress a grin.  “We’ll be back tomorrow, unless something goes wrong!”

“Bring food—­that’s my motto,” Chow retorted, “like any good cook.”

Minutes later, after a parting handshake from his father and a worried kiss from Sandy, Tom sent the sleek jet racing down the runway for take-off.  Soon they were air-borne and heading westward.  Chow served a tasty meal en route.

It was still daylight when the jet landed vertically in the Colorado canyon.  The government crew manning the installation, and the Swift technician who had relieved Art Wiltessa as trouble shooter on the setup, greeted them eagerly.

“Looks as if we’re in for a real test, Tom,” said Mike Burrows, the engineer in charge.

“Let’s hope we pass!” said Tom, holding up crossed fingers.

He checked every detail of the Quakelizor, power plant, and the communications gear.  He opened an inspection panel in each of the dual-control spheres and tuned the kinetic-hydraulic units so as to step up the working pressure of the four powerful drivers.