Bolts Read Free Page A

not allowed to do shopwork in this uniform.”
    Quickly, Big Butch took off his kitchen apron and his chef’s cap, and drew on a leather shop apron and a blue cap with crossed anchors. Properly attired, he reached for the tools and very carefully pried open the cover of the box.
    The thing inside that should have been Bolts was covered with heavy wrapping paper. Bingo’s eager hands tore the wrapping aside. He stared.
    Everyone stared.
    â€œI told you so!” cackled Pirate, flapping his wings. “I told you so! I told you so!”
    â€œAw, button your beak!” Big Butch told him out of the side of his mouth. “You old crow! You oughta be plucked and boiled for the cat.” He peered again into the box. “I declare,” he muttered, “isn’t this the Super-Thought Machine we designed for the Navy?”

    â€œI’ll be scuttled and sunk!” the commander burst out. “It is our Super-Thought Machine. But what’s it doing here?”
    â€œMix-up! Mix-up! Mix-up!” Pirate squawked.
    â€œOh, my goodness,” muttered Bingo, looking sick, “I’ll bet Pirate’s right. They must have packed Bolts in a box just like this, and got the boxes mixed. That means Bolts is on his way to the Navy instead of here!”
    Fuming and wheezing, the commander waddled to the phone and called the robot factory. His round face grew red as he talked. Suddenly the single hair on top of his shiny head began to tremble. “What?” he bellowed suddenly. “Oh, this is terrible!”
    â€œW-what’s happened, Pops?” Bingo asked worriedly, as his grandfather slammed down the receiver.
    â€œSon,” Commander Brown said grimly, “Bolts has been abducted.”
    â€œOh, no!” Bingo looked sicker than ever. “B-but how—why—who—”
    â€œSkulduggery! Skulduggery!” squawked Pirate. “Foreign agents! Spies!”
    â€œYes,” said the commander. “It’s obvious that the persons who did it believed they were stealing the Super-Thought Machine. They held up the truck, loaded the box on another truck, and carried it to a plane. But that’s all anyone knows. It was a strange, fast plane, and now it’s vanished without a trace.”
    â€œThis is awful,” Big Butch said miserably. “Poor Bolts! If foreign agents have stolen him, we may never get to see him.”
    â€œDon’t talk like that,” Bingo pleaded. “He’s my dog, and I’m going to find him!”
    The commander shook his head. “I don’t see how, son. He was stolen hours and hours ago. By this time he could be in Europe or down in South America.”
    â€œBut—but there must be something we can do,” Bingo persisted.
    For a while everyone was silent, trying desperately to think of an idea. Even Claws, the cat, seemed very much concerned, for he kept twitching his whiskers and scratching his head. But unfortunately Claws, if he had a thought, could only make purry noises that no one understood, unless it was Pirate.
    Suddenly Bingo looked at the parrot. “Snap out of it, Pirate, and give us some help. What’s Bolts doing now?”
    â€œRunning from trouble,” squawked Pirate. “Running from trouble.”
    â€œWhy,” said Bingo, “he’d have to be turned on if he’s running—and if he’s running from trouble, that means he’s escaped! There’s a chance we can get in touch with him by radio. Oh, if only we knew where he was!”
    At that moment, Bolts, hundreds and hundreds of miles away, was wondering the same thing.
    As he dashed out into the strange and starry night, he heard a confusion of voices all around him, most of them in a language that certainly wasn’t English. Great jumping dingbats, he thought. I must be in a foreign country! How’m I ever gonna get out of it and reach Battleship Lane?
    But there wasn’t time to