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aye, sir!’”
    â€œAw, Commander, I’m only a tin dawg!”
    â€œThat’s no excuse—and you’re not tin! You are made of the very finest stainless steel, and I hate to see it wasted on a—a—” The commander stopped, at a complete loss for words. Then he snapped, “Bolts, do you know who stole you?”
    â€œSure do! A couple no-good throat-cutting varmints named Comrade Pang and Major Mangler.” Bolts described them carefully, and in very uncomplimentary language. “They got a feller named Lumpy Lopez working for ’em, and I’ve heard it said they’re all in the pay of the Mongolians.”
    â€œWonderful!” exclaimed the commander. “Can you tell me where their headquarters is located?”
    â€œIf you’re high up, Commander, you oughta be able to see their hangout. It’s a bunch of little mud buildings over on the edge of a desertlike place. There’s a cactus forest this side of it.”
    â€œWe see it! Good work, Bolts! I’m calling the Mexican Air Patrol immediately. Maybe they can capture all those rascals. Here’s Bingo again.”
    â€œBolts,” Bingo said hurriedly, “find water and follow it down as fast as you can. We’ve got to get you out soon because you’re needed on a space trip. It’s terribly important.”
    â€œBy Joe, a space trip! Where you aiming to go, Bingo?”
    â€œTell you later. Pops wants to use the radio to call the Air Patrol.”

7
    He Walks Underwater
    For a minute after Bingo signed off, Bolts stood blinking his eye lights happily, his predicament entirely forgotten. A space trip! He knew he’d been designed for a special purpose, and that space had something to do with it, but he hadn’t realized how much Bingo was counting on him.
    â€œBy Joe!” he told himself. “Mebbe I got shortchanged at the factory, but it looks like I’m going to be a mighty important dawg after all.”
    Maybe he’d turn out to be a real VID—a Very Important Dog. That is, if he ever got out of here. This last thought brought him back to unpleasant reality. He shook himself again, wishing he had a little more built-in gumption, and took a few hesitant steps forward while he studied the blackness.
    In spite of his growl, the blackness hadn’t improved a bit. If anything, it looked much worse, now that he was alone.
    Then he rotated his sniffer, and instantly became aware of a familiar presence. Considerably relieved, Bolts turned and saw a pair of beady eyes glaring at him from under a shelf of rock.
    â€œHey, whatcha hiding from?” he asked.
    â€œConsequences,” the fox critter answered sourly. “You’ll live longer if you learn to avoid them. I’m all in favor of taming the dark—but why pull the roof down on us?”
    â€œDidn’t aim to. It’s still up there, so you’d better come out. We got some exploring to do.”
    â€œNot—so—fast,” said the fox critter. “I’ve been forced to take you on faith—but faith has its limits. Anything that ticks is questionable—but when it talks it better be ready with some answers.”
    â€œAw, I tick because I’m factory-built,” said Bolts, and explained about his trimmed brain. “Reckon I could talk to any kind of a critter—even a bat. That satisfy you?”
    â€œHardly. Were you talking to bats just now?”
    â€œNow lissen,” Bolts snapped, “the situation’s bad, but it ain’t that bad. I got folks, see? Mighty important people, and they gave me a built-in radio. Can’t I keep in touch with ’em without you getting into a tizzy?”
    â€œI’m not in a tizzy,” said the fox critter, easing from his hiding place. “But I’ve learned that prudence pays. I value my hide, and I’d like to get it out of here. Did your folks happen to suggest how that little