estruction 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.

Mrs. Swift, a slender, petite woman, tried not to show concern when she
saw the boys, bruised and disheveled. "I'm so thankful you're both
safe!" she murmured.

Blond, blue-eyed Sandy, who was a year younger than Tom, had invited her
friend Phyllis Newton to the house for dinner. Phyl, a pretty,
dark-haired girl, was the daughter of Mr. Swift's long-time friend and
business associate, "Uncle Ned" Newton. The two girls were as much upset
as Tom's mother.

Tom laughed. "We're not stretcher cases," he said. "Why, one of the
ambulance doctors checked us out."

Bud groaned. "Why did you have to go and spoil it?" he complained
jokingly. "I was all set for Sandy's cool soothing touch on my fevered
brow!"

Mr. Swift came into the living room just then and told Tom how worried
Mrs. Swift and Sandy had been. "I tried to assure them that you and Bud
can take care of yourselves in any crisis." He smiled guiltily as he
added, "But I must admit I was more than a little concerned myself."

As Tom grinned, the resemblance between him and his father was very
evident. Both had the same clean-cut features and deep-set blue eyes,
although Tom Jr. was lankier and taller.

After the two boys had showered and changed their clothes, Mrs. Swift
served them a delicious, hot meal. While they ate, Mr. Swift managed
after some difficulty to get a call through to the Harkness Hospital.
His face was grave as he hung up.

"Mark Faber is not expected to live," the elder inventor reported. "A
pity. He's a great scientist."

Tom nodded unhappily. Sandy, to take her brother's mind off the
disaster, said, "Dad, tell Tom and Bud about the visitor who's coming."

"A visitor?