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thinking."
    "Oh, I know," Tom replied. "That’s what the retroscope is here to handle. But remember, Chief Quetzal’s translation matched my own."
    "Do you anticipate any difficulties in setting up the camera?"
    "Not at all, Dad. But I have to admit, I’d feel a lot more confident if Hank or Arv were down here with us." Expert engineers and technicians, Hank Sterling and Arvid Hanson had remained behind at Enterprises to assist Mr. Swift preparing for an upcoming government-backed operation that demanded considerable time and technical planning. This vast and complicated project would involve work in a distant deep-sea environment.
    Mr. Swift expressed regret that so much of the plant’s scientific and technical staff were tied up attending to these details. He also assured Tom that he would be on hand to greet the Mayan men when they arrived in Shopton and would escort them personally to Grandyke University.
    Giving his love to family and friends, Tom signed off and returned to the truck. "I was hoping you’d dilly-dally a little longer, skipper," Bud pronounced, leaning on his elbow in the tattered front seat. "I wouldn’t mind a bit if we didn’t get moving until after sundown."
    Tom laughed. "Maybe you wouldn’t, flyboy. But Chow would, wouldn’t you, pard?"
    Chow looked puzzled. "Huh? Why’s that, boss?"
    "Well, jungle bats that fly at night, for one thing. And then there’s that jaguar, creeping around in darkness. And—"
    "Let’s get goin’!" the westerner gulped.
    By the time Tom had signed off, the afternoon sky had darkened considerably. He had emerged from the Sky Queen to find a stiff wind blowing in from the southeast.
    "What’s wrong, skipper?" Slim Davis asked, leaning on the truck windowsill as Tom gunned the engine. "You look worried."
    "From the look of that sky, I think we’re in for a storm," Tom replied. "We can probably beat it, but it’ll be close."
    The old truck rumbled off on its way back to Huratlcuyon. As the minutes dragged by, the wind rose and the palm fronds above began to writhe like snakes. Tom stopped briefly to pull a protective tarp of waterproof Tomasite plastic across the truck bed.
    An hour later the storm had broken. A blanket of torrential rain swept down on the jungle, making visibility almost zero. The wind increased to gale force. Nervously watching through the cab windows, the boys and Chow saw the nearby trees bend under the smashing impact of the wind.
    "Guess the wind just got its second wind!" gibed Bud. But his eyes were wide with tension as lightning slashed the darkened sky.
    "Good night!" muttered Tom at the steering wheel, eyes squinting in the effort to make out the road. "We’re slipping and sliding on the mud. Better slow down."
    Suddenly the truck began to shudder and move sideways, swerving into a fishtail.
    "We’re bein’ pushed off th’ road by the wind!" Chow cried. "Tom, we’re gonna crash into the trees!"

CHAPTER 5
CLUES TO THE PAST
    INSTANTLY Tom’s right hand flew to the parking-brake lever, while his left hand smoothly twisted the wheel, steering into the skid so as not to worsen it. His skillful maneuver kept the truck from nosing into a tree trunk, but he couldn’t prevent its thudding sideways against a mass of fallen branches.
    "Mebbe we oughta abandon ship—’er somethin’!" rumbled Chow in fear.
    "Too dangerous in this storm,’ Tom replied tersely. "But maybe I can hold us off from crashing any further into the forest." As the groaning wind whipped about the truck, Tom inched it forward onto a mat of thick leaves and intertwined branches. He knew this would provide them a bit of wheel-traction and a fair fight against the wind.
    "Whew!" Bud mopped his forehead. "That’s what I call too close for comfort! I had visions of us plowing into that big trunk and the whole tree keeling over on us!"
    The roar of the hurricane winds outside and the clattering impact of the rain against the truck made it almost impossible for Tom and