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"What did he look like?" asked Roger.

"A little guy, with a bald head and a limp. That's all I know—honest."

"A limp, eh?" asked Tom. "A little fellow?"

"How little?" asked Astro, getting the drift of Tom's question.

"Real little. About five feet maybe, not much more'n that!"

The three boys looked at each other and nodded.

"The guy we bought our jungle gear from in the pawnshop!" exclaimed Astro.

"Yeah," said Tom. "It sure sounds like him. But why would he want to stop us? And more important, who told him that Captain Strong was sending a cab for us?"

They turned back to the cab driver for further explanation, but the man was now actually crying with fright.

"We won't get anything more out of this little creep," said Astro. "Let's just turn him over to the Solar Guard at the spaceport. They'll know how to handle him."

"Right," Tom agreed. "We've lost enough time as it is."

"No, no—please!" moaned the cabman. "Lemme go! Take the cab. Drive it to the spaceport and just leave it, but please don't turn me over to the Solar Guard. If I'm seen with them, I'll be—" Suddenly the man darted to one side, eluded Astro's lunge, and scampered away. In a moment he was swallowed up in the darkness.

"Boy," breathed Astro, "he was sure scared of something!"

"Yes," said Tom. "And I'm beginning to get a little scared myself!"

The cadets climbed into the cab and roared off toward the spaceport, each boy with the feeling that he was sitting on a smoldering volcano that was suddenly starting to erupt around him.

CHAPTER 9

"Rocket cruiser Polaris to Solar Guard Venusport! Request emergency relay circuit to Commander Walters en route Earth!"

On the radar bridge of the Polaris, Roger Manning spoke quickly into the teleceiver microphone. Just a few minutes before the giant spaceship had blasted off from Venusport, heading for the Sinclair plantation, Major Connel had ordered Roger to get in touch with Walters to report the latest security leak. On the control deck the major paced back and forth restlessly as Tom guided the Polaris on its short flight.

"I'll find the spy in the Solar Guard if I have to tear Venusport apart piece by piece!" fumed Connel.

"What about that jet freighter we took away from the Nationalists, sir?" asked Tom. "Did you ever find out where it came from?"

Connel nodded. "It was an old bucket on the Southern Colonial run. She was reported lost last year. Somehow those jokers got hold of her and armed her to the teeth."

"You think maybe the crew could have mutinied, sir?"

"It's highly possible, Corbett," answered Connel, and glanced around. "If they have any other ships of that size, the Polaris will be able to handle them."

"Yes, sir." Tom smiled. "The repair crew did a good job on her." The cadet paused. "Do you suppose one of the Nationalists planted that bomb on her fin?"

"No doubt of it," replied Connel. "And it seems to tie in with a rather strange thing that happened in the Venusian Delegate's office the day before it happened."

"What was that, sir?" asked Tom.

"Three priority orders for seats aboard a Venusport—Atom City express were stolen. Before a check could be made, the ship had made its run and the people using the priorities were gone. They must have been the ones that bumped you off your seats."

"How do you think that ties in with the bomb on the Polaris, sir?"

"We're trying to figure that out now," said Connel. "If only we knew what they looked like it would help. The girl at the ticket office doesn't remember them and neither does the ship's stewardess."

"But we saw them, sir!" exclaimed Tom.

"You what!" roared Connel.

"Yes, sir. We were standing there at the ticket counter when they called for their tickets."

"Do you think you'd recognize them again?"

"I'll say!" asserted Tom. "And I'm sure Astro and Roger would, too. We were so mad, we could have blasted them on the spot."

Connel turned to the intercom and shouted, "Manning, haven't you got that circuit through yet?"

"Working