DANGER NEAR.  BRUNGARIAN SCIENTISTS READY TO DESTROY ME.

“Great bellowin’ buffaloes!” Chow gulped.  “Please make it quick, Tom!  We got to save that space critter!”

Tom glanced at his illuminated watch dial.  The countdown ticked by.  Suddenly his hand closed a switch, transmitting the rescue beam.  More moments passed as the Swifts and the watchers strained their eyes toward the night sky.

“Here it comes!” Bud yelled suddenly.

A fiery bluish-white light had suddenly flamed into view.  It grew steadily larger.  Tom poised the container and opened one point of the star head.

Now the blue fireball was arcing down over the hillside, trailing its orange-red comet tail.  It hissed into the container and Tom snapped shut the star head.

The next moment, the young inventor wavered and slumped unconscious!

CHAPTER XX

THE ROBOT SPY’S STORY

“Tom!” his father cried.  Anxiously the others crowded around the lanky young inventor, who had fallen beside the new robot.

“Stand back!  Give him air!” Bud urged.  “How is he, Mr. Swift?”

The elder scientist was feeling Tom’s wrist.  “His pulse is beating, but it’s a bit weak.  He must have received a terrific shock from all that energy!...  Tom!...  Tom, son, can you hear me?”

The young inventor moaned and stirred faintly but his eyes did not open.  His cheeks and lips seemed colorless in the glow of Mr. Swift’s flashlight.  Chow was terrified, hovering about helplessly.

“I’ll call Doc Simpson to bring a pulmotor!” Hank exclaimed.

“Yes, do, Hank!” Mr. Swift pleaded.  “Quick!”

An ambulance arrived a few minutes later.  Doc Simpson and an attendant leaped out, and the resuscitation equipment—­specially designed by the Swifts for their plant infirmary—­was hastily unloaded.

Anxious moments followed, but finally Tom began to respond to the treatment.  Soon his eyes were open and he regained full consciousness.  As Doc held a paper cup of water for him to sip, Tom smiled wanly.

“Okay.” he murmured, “I’m all right now.  Sorry if I scared you, Dad.”  He started to get up.

“It’s a hospital bed for you, skipper.  And no arguments!” Doc Simpson said sternly.  “What happened here?”

“I believe,” Mr. Swift answered, “that our space friends, in finding a way to move the energy back to us, had less close control over it on earth than when they sent it from space.”

By midmorning the next day, Tom had awakened refreshed from a good night’s sleep and felt normal again.  Over Doc Simpson’s protests, he insisted upon dressing and hurrying over to his laboratory.

Here he found his father working intently amid a jumble of mechanical parts, tools, and electronic equipment.  Nearby stood Exman with a panel open in his upper body, exposing the controls and output equipment.