e walk behind Strong.

Steve turned around and gasped. Connel was striding toward them grimly,
followed by four guards carrying a stretcher covered by a blanket.
Strong quickly recognized the outline of a human form beneath the
blanket.

"Major," exclaimed Steve, "what--who--?"

"It's getting thicker by the hour, Steve!" said Connel in a low voice.
"This is the first time in the history of the Academy that there has
been what looks like"--he paused and turned to look at the draped body
being carried past them--"an attempt at murder," he finished.

"Murder!" said Strong. "But--"

"Who is it?" demanded Joan.

"A little man who can tell us a great deal if and when he regains
consciousness! Pat Troy!"

[Illustration]

CHAPTER 11

"Vroom-m-m!"

As the shattering blast of noise pounded against his eardrums, Tom
Corbett opened his eyes, blinked, and stared around him. By the dim
light from a small window in the wall over his head, he saw that he was
in some sort of metal enclosure. Suddenly the floor trembled and again
the shocking, shattering noises rang through his aching head. He tried
to sit up but found that his hands were tied behind his back. The ropes
were so tight, his hands were almost completely numb. Slowly he clenched
his fingers, then opened them again, repeating the process over and over
again while needlelike pains shot through his hands. Finally there was
feeling in his fingers again and he struggled to a sitting position.

Again the metal enclosure vibrated and there was another thunderous
blast. This time Tom recognized the sound.

"A jet!" exclaimed the cadet aloud. "I'm in the van of a jet truck."

When Tom tried to stand up, he found that his feet were bound. Again he
went through the slow, painful process of restoring circulation in his
legs and feet, gritting his teeth against the needles of pain. Finally
he felt strong enough to push his back against the wall and inch his way
upright.

The noise around him continued. Again and again, he could hear the
shattering explosions of the exhausts and the screaming whine of the
jets. Looking around carefully for the first time, he saw that the van
was empty except for a pile of heavy quilted rugs in one corner which he
knew were used to protect and cushion cargo.

Hopping to the corner, he flopped down on the blankets and, one by one,
he began dragging them out. There was nothing else in the van that would
aid him in cutting the thic