fleet.

His father said grimly, "Yes. The situation doesn't look too good right
now, Joe."

"Try this on for size, sir," said Joe. He outlined Mike's scheme. His
father interrupted only to ask crisp questions about the mockup of the
tender, already in existence though made of wood. Then he said, "Go on,
son!"

Joe finished. He heard his father speaking to someone away from the
phone. Questions and answers, and then orders. His father spoke to him
direct.

"It looks promising, Joe," said his father. "Right here at the plant
we've got the gang that can do it if anybody can. I'm getting a plane
and coming out there, fast! Get Major Holt to clear things for me. This
is no time for red tape! If he has trouble, I'll pull some wires
myself!"

"Then I can tell Mike it's good stuff?"

"It's not good stuff," said his father. "There are about forty-seven
things wrong with it at first glance, but I know how to take care of one
or two, and we'll lick the rest. You tell your friend Mike I want to
shake him by the hand. I hope to do it tonight!"

He hung up, and Joe went out of the phone booth. Mike looked at him
with yearning eyes. Joe lied a little, because Mike rated it.