"Get out of here!" Connel roared. "You've got thirty seconds to make
it. And if you _don't_ make it, you'll go down on my bad-rocket list!"

Almost in one motion, the three cadet candidates saluted and charged
through the door. When they had gone, Connel turned to the _Polaris_
cadets who were still at attention. "At ease!" he roared and then
grinned.

The boys came to rest and smiled back at him tentatively. They never
knew what to expect from Connel. "Well, did you put them through their
paces?" he asked as he jerked his thumb toward the door.

"Yes, sir!" said Tom.

"Did they know their manual? Or give you any lip when you started giving
them hot rockets?" Connel referred to the hazing that was allowed by the
Academy, only as another of the multitude of tests given to cadets.
Cadet candidates might possibly hide dangerous flaws from Academy
officials but never from boys near their own ages.

"Major," said Astro, "those fellows came close to blasting off right
here in these chairs. They really thought they were out in _space!_"

"Fine!" said Connel. "Glad to hear it. I've singled them out as my
personal unit for instruction."

"Poor fellows," muttered Roger under his breath.

"What was that, Manning?" bellowed Connel.