He found himself
wanting to pass more than anything in the world. "Please," he breathed,
"please, just let me pass--"
A soft gong began to sound. Dr. Dale stood up.
"Time's up," she announced. "Please put your papers in the tubes and
drop them in the slot."
Tom turned to see Astro stuffing his papers in the thin cylinder
disgustedly. Phil Morgan came up and stood in back of Tom. His face was
flushed.
"Everything O.K., Phil?" inquired Tom.
"Easy as free falling in space," replied the other cadet, his soft
Georgian drawl full of confidence. "How about you?"
"I'm just hoping against hope."
The few remaining stragglers hurried up to the line.
"Think Astro'll make it?" asked Phil.
"I don't know," answered Tom, "I saw him sweating over there like a man
facing death."
"I guess he is--in a way."
Astro took his place in line and shrugged his shoulders when Tom leaned
forward to give him a questioning look.
"Go ahead, Tom," urged Phil. Tom turned and dropped his tube into the
green-bordered slot and waited. He stared straight at the wall in front
of him, hardly daring to breathe. Presently, the tube was returned in
the red slot. He took it, turned it over in his hands and walked slowly
back to his desk.
"You're washed out, cabbagehead!" Manning's whisper followed him. "Let's
see if you can take it without bawling!"
Tom's face burned and he fought an impulse to answer Manning with a
stiff belt in the jaw.
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