CHAPTER VA CRASH
Adventures in plenty had befallen Tom Swift, and in many of them Ned Newton had had a share. But always the young inventor had come out “on top of the heap,” so perhaps Ned was justified in his feeling that everything would be all right. Still he could understand and appreciate Mr. Swift’s worry.
Mr. Swift began looking for his hat and neck scarf, this last on the suggestion of his housekeeper.
A little later Mr. Swift, Ned, and Eradicate, the aged colored servant who had been in the Swift family many years, were on their way to the big plant, almost a mile distant. Ned had brought around to the door one of the small cars Tom used to make trips between his home and the shop, and it did not take long to reach the main gate in the big fence surrounding the place.
So many and varied had been the attempts to rob Tom of the fruits of his and his father’s brains that drastic measures to guard the place had been put into effect. The big fence, impossible to scale without long ladders, was one protection. In addition there were burglar alarm wires along the fence, which wires would give warning of any attempt to get under it or over it. In addition there was a strip of metal, charged with a high-power current which could be turned on at will, and this would give unauthorized trespassers a severe shock. It would not kill, but would disable for a time.
In addition there were other forms of protection, and so well guarded were the different gates, by night and day, that not even Tom himself could get in without due formality. So it was when the party of searchers arrived, they were not at once let in. The guard at the gate must first be certain who he was admitting.
“Good lan’!” exclaimed Eradicate. “Dish is plum’ foolishness! Cain’t yo’ look an’ see dat ole Massa Swift hisse’f am heah?”
“They have to be cautious, Rad,” said Ned, as he got out of the machine to give the password which was used each night. He saw Koku, the giant, coming down the path inside the fence, and the big man at once recognized the visitors.
Between Eradicate and Koku there was rivalry and jealousy because each one wanted to serve Tom without having the other called on. And no sooner had the colored man caught sight of the giant, as the latter told the watchman to open the gate, than Eradicate burst out with:
“Hu! Dat’s jest laik de big ninny! Don’t know his own folks! It’s a wonder to me dat Massa Tom keep him, he’s so dumb!”
“Black man talk much—not do anything!” growled the giant. “Look out or um be squashed,” and he opened and closed his enormous hands as if he wanted to clutch the old servant in them.
“That will do now, you two!” warned Mr. Swift. “We came to find Tom. Are you sure he isn’t here, Koku?”
“Not too sure, master; Not sure much about Master Tom—he go—he come—no can tell—no can do.”
“That’s about right,” agreed Ned, with a laugh. “Tom certainly goes and comes without telling any one much about it. But I gathered, from what he said to me just outside the fence, that he would be right along. There didn’t seem to be anything special he had to do.”
“Just where was it you met him?” asked Mr. Swift. “Let us start the investigation from there, you and I, Ned. Meanwhile, I will have all the other shops called by telephone from the central here.”
He gave orders to this effect to one of the watchmen and then with Ned went to the place, outside the fence, where Tom had last talked with his chum. But it was dark, and Ned, naturally, could not point out the exact spot, even with the aid of a flashlight.
“I think it was here, near this rock and bush,” he said, throwing the gleam of his little electric torch about.
But the dry, hard ground gave no clews to this superficial examination, and, as a matter of fact, Ned was about twenty-five feet off in his calculations, as was demonstrated later. Otherwise he and Mr. Swift might have seen the hole in the ground and the flight of stairs, for it was not until some time later that night—near morning, as a matter of fact—that the plotters replaced the planks and spread earth over them, thus hiding the secret entrance.
“Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything here,” said Mr. Swift, with an uneasy sigh as they made a hasty examination of the place. “We had better go inside and look there.”
But the search in and about the many buildings of the great Swift plant was no more successful. Every office and shop telephone had been rung. Some were answered by guards or watchmen who happened to be in the vicinity at the time the bell rang. But one and all said they had not seen Tom.
Then there was a check-up of every gate and entrance in the big fence, and at no place had Tom been admitted. Granting that his protective plans worked, he could not have entered his own plant without a record having been made of it, and there was none.
“There’s only one answer to this, then,” said Ned, when the search had ended.
“What’s the answer?” asked Mr. Swift.
“Tom didn’t come in here after he left me. He must have gone somewhere else.”
Mr. Swift looked at his watch.
“Do you suppose he could be at Mary’s now?” he asked.
“What time is it?”
“Three.”
“No, he wouldn’t be there at this hour!” declared Ned.
“He might,” replied Mr. Swift hopefully. “When Tom’s mind is busy on his inventions he forgets all about time. It would be just like him to forget that it was three o’clock in the morning and go to call on Mary.”
Ned shook his head, but Mr. Swift went on:
“I’m going to call her presently. But there is just one more place I want to search. It’s in the vault where we keep the Chest of Secrets, as Tom calls it. There is a private entrance to that he could come in by and not register the alarm nor be seen by any of the guards. He can switch off that alarm from his room at the house. I’ll look there. He may have gone there to see if there isn’t some way out in the trouble we’re in over the airline express patents.”
“Trouble?” questioned Ned, as they walked toward the vault.
“Yes. Tom and I haven’t spoken of it even to you, Ned, for the thing really isn’t in such shape that it can be talked about. But Tom has an idea, it may be nothing more than a dream, that he can establish a line of travel to cross our continent from New York to San Francisco between dawn and darkness. In other words, a coast-to-coast service, from ocean to ocean, by daylight—say sixteen hours—with no change.”
“No change!” cried Ned. “What’s the idea—refueling the planes in the air? Of course that has been done. But from coast to coast in sixteen hours without change! It can’t be done!”
“Tom thinks so,” said Mr. Swift. “That’s what he’s working on now. He has had some new models made, but there is trouble over the patent rights. Some one is trying to get his idea away from him. It may be that Tom came to the secret vault after he left you to make sure everything was all right, and he may be there yet.”
But the vault was unoccupied, nor had it been disturbed. Mr. Swift gave a hasty glance at several complicated and odd-looking models of aircraft in the concrete room, looked over a pile of papers, and said:
“Well, they haven’t been disturbed since Tom and I were here last, which proves my son hasn’t been here. But where is he? I’m beginning to get worried, Ned. More worried than ever!”
“Oh, he’ll be all right,” was the answer, though in his own heart Ned Newton could not help feeling apprehensive. “It may be, as you say, that he made a very late call on Mary, and her folks have probably asked him to stay all night, as they have done before.”
“I think the matter justifies me in calling Mr. Nestor on the telephone,” said Mr. Swift, as they emerged from the vault where the Chest of Secrets was stored. “It’s rather early to ring up anybody, but I guess they will understand.”
It was about four o’clock now, and already, in the east, a light was appearing, the sun was heralding the dawn. The early birds were beginning to sing. It would soon be morning, though not yet time for the wheels to begin humming in the Swift plant.
Going back to the office, where Koku reported that a second check-up had failed to disclose the whereabouts of the young inventor, Mr. Swift called the Shopton central operator and gave her the number of the Nestor house.
There was some little delay, as was natural when a call is made at that hour of the morning, but at length Mr. Nestor’s voice was heard.
“Who? Tom? No, he isn’t here—hasn’t been here,” was the message the aged inventor received. “What’s the matter?”
There was some further talk, and Mr. Swift briefly outlined what had happened.
“Don’t alarm Mary yet,” Mr. Swift cautioned his friend. “But I fear something has happened to Tom. I wish you would come over.”
“I will!” Mr. Nestor promised. “I’ll be over as soon as I can dress.”
“Tell him I’ll call for him,” Ned said to Mr. Swift, and this message went over the wires.
It was fully light when they went down into the yard where the small auto had been left. And suddenly the silence of the dawn, made musical by the twitterings of the birds, was broken by an increasing roar and throbbing noise.
“Airship!” grunted Koku.
“Suah enough!” exclaimed Eradicate, pointing up. “Dere she am!”
The throbbing sound became louder, and a moment later they saw the plane, a large one, approaching from the west.
“It’s Mr. Damon’s machine!” cried Ned. “What in the world is he flying so early for? He isn’t sure enough of himself to take that big plane out alone—he only got it the other day. Great Scott! Look! He’s going to hit your mooring mast!”
At one end of the big landing field outside the fence Tom had recently erected a tall steel mast, to which he moored a small dirigible balloon with which he was conducting experiments. As all looked up they saw Mr. Damon in his new machine headed straight for this mast.
“He doesn’t know it’s there!” cried Ned. “He’s sure going to hit!”
A moment later there was an alarming crash, and the top of the mast was seen to break off while one edge of the aeroplane’s left wing crumpled.
CHAPTER VIAGAIN A PRISONER
The threat which Tom Swift heard the men in the pursuing motor boat mutter—a threat to catch him at any cost—was not needed to cause him to speed up the craft he had appropriated in an endeavor to escape. The sinister character of the men who wore the masks he could easily guess at. As to the others, he had begun to suspect them soon after they obtained work in his plant. Though they were clever mechanics, Tom did not like Kenny and Schlump and so had directed their discharge.
“They either have it in for me on that account,” mused Tom, as he made an adjustment to the motor to get more speed, “or else there’s something deeper in the plot. I guess they must have chained me up after I blundered into their tunnel. I’d like to know what all this means, but now is not the time to stop and find out. I must get away and ask questions afterward.”
It was to be a desperate chase—Tom Swift realized that from the tense and eager manner of the men in the boat now plowing through the waters of Lake Carlopa. They were forcing their craft to her best speed in an endeavor to overtake him.
“It’s a wonder they don’t begin shooting,” mused Tom. “A crowd of men like that, with two of them masked, won’t stop at shooting. Maybe I’d better get down a bit.”
He had been standing up in the boat, the better to make adjustments to the motor, but now, as he thought of the possibility of being fired upon, he crouched down to give less of a target to the men.
This move of his seemed to be misinterpreted by the pursuers, for one of them cried:
“There he goes overboard! One of you take after him!” This was shouted by one of the masked men, whose identity Tom Swift could only guess at, though he judged all of them to be some of his enemies.
But the young inventor had no intention of jumping out of the boat to swim for safety. He knew he would soon be overtaken and captured. His only chance lay in beating the scoundrels in a race. Besides, he was in no physical condition to endure a long swim. He had been in a most uncomfortable, cramped position all night, and the exertion of filing off the chain and going through the tunnel to emerge on Barn Door Island had tired him. He had had no breakfast, and this lack was now beginning to make itself felt more than at first.
But as he crouched down in the boat, where only a small part of his body showed above the rail, he remembered that he had in his pocket some chocolate candy. He had bought it the night before on his trip to town.
“I’ll make a breakfast on that,” mused Tom.
So as he crouched there in the boat he reached into his pocket, got out the cake of chocolate, and began to nibble it. In a few minutes he felt decidedly better. That “gone” feeling had left his stomach, and he began to relish, rather than fear, the outcome of the impending struggle.
The pursuit had started at the end of the lake where there was no town or other settlement, but at the pace it would not be more than half an hour before he would sight his home town.
For a few moments after the wild chase began Tom could hear the men in the other boat shouting after him:
“Come back here! Stop that boat! It’s ours! Stop or we’ll shoot!”
“Go ahead and shoot!” taunted Tom, hardly believing, after this delay, that they would go to this extreme. And they did not. Evidently their plan was to capture him alive.
Tom was so anxious to know whether or not his craft was keeping a sufficient distance in front of the other boat that he did not pay much attention to the course he was steering. The result was that, after he had swung out around a small island he was almost run down by a tug boat hauling some coal barges from one side of Lake Carlopa to the other.
Tom just had time to give the wheel a quick turn, and he fairly grazed one of the coal barges. This brought angry shouts from the captain of the tug who demanded to know:
“What in the name of thunderation are you trying to do, anyhow? Get yourself sunk? You soft-soaping landlubber, look where you’re going!”
Tom did not reply. He had half a notion to swing about, run up alongside the tug and appeal for help. Then a wild desire came into his mind to beat these men alone and single-handed if he could. It would be sportier that way.
As for his pursuers, when they saw the tug and barges they appeared to hesitate a moment, as if ready to give up the chase. But when they saw Tom keep on, they did the same, still chasing him.
For perhaps ten minutes more the chase was kept up. Tom could make out, by hasty observations over his stern, that three of the men were in consultation while the fourth one steered.
There now loomed up in front of Tom another island—a larger one than Barn Door, and he recognized it as the last one in this end of the lake before he could swing into the wider part of the water through which there was a straight course to Shopton.
“Once I get past there,” said Tom to himself, “I’m safe. They won’t dare chase me after that.”
As he neared the island he noticed that his motor was behaving in a peculiar manner. Every now and then it would miss an explosion. Then it would cough and wheeze a bit, after which it would go on again.
“What’s the matter, old girl?” asked Tom, for to him machinery was almost something alive and he talked to it as he would to a human being. “Are you getting tired?” he asked.
He looked over the working parts. They seemed to be all right. But again came a miss—then several of them. And finally, with a last cough and wheeze, the motor stopped altogether.
“No more gas!” exclaimed Tom. Well he knew that last wheeze when there is nothing more for the carburetor to feed on. He had used up the last drop of gasoline.
“Guess I’m done for,” mused Tom. “They must have known there wasn’t enough gas in the tank to carry me far. That’s why they kept on.” He looked back. The pursuers were perhaps five hundred feet astern, and Tom’s boat was so close to the island that he knew, with the headway still on, he could reach the shore.
He turned the prow toward the little cove and as soon as he was near enough he leaped over the bow, landing on the rocky shore, and ran up into the fastness of the island, which was covered with scrubby trees and bushes.
He looked about for a good place where he might conceal himself. He was sensible enough to know that to try to fight four men was taking on odds that were too heavy. He saw a little recess in the rocks, and squeezed into it.
A moment later he heard the voices of the men as they steered their boat up against the one he had deserted. Then he heard them jumping out on the gravelly beach.
“We’ve got him now!” one remarked.
“He can’t get away,” added another.
“Not unless he swims for it—we’ve got both boats!” said a third.
“He won’t try swimming—we could easily overtake him in our boat,” declared the fourth scoundrel, and Tom sensed that this was true.
“Scatter now, and find him!” one of the men ordered, and the hiding youth could hear them crashing about in the bushes looking for him. It was a foregone conclusion that they would find him sooner or later. Tom had not had time to look for a good hiding place, being under the necessity of taking the first one that offered.
So it was no wonder that, a few minutes after he had landed on the island, he heard some one coming nearer and nearer. He tried to force himself farther into the crevice of the rocks, but it was no use. His movements dislodged some small stones which fell with a rattle.
“Here he is!” cried a voice.
The next moment Tom was looking into the leering face of Kenny, and then along came Schlump.
The latter held a revolver, and even without this weapon Tom would have been forced to submit, for the two masked men soon came to the aid of their companions. Tom felt that discretion was the better part of valor in this instance. Besides, he hoped, by submitting quietly now, to escape by strategy a little later.
But he thought he would try a little bluff and bluster first, so he addressed the men with righteous indignation.
“You fellows have nerve!” he exclaimed. “What do you mean by treating me this way? I’ll have you all arrested for this and sent up.”
“Yes. Like you did Barsky, I suppose,” sneered one of the masked men.
Tom started at the mention of that name. Barsky or Blodgett, for he used both names, had been concerned in the theft of Tom’s Chest of Secrets. Barsky had been arrested, together with Renwick Fawn, and had been sent to jail.
“But maybe they have escaped,” thought Tom. “Maybe these two men are Fawn and Barsky.” He closely observed the actions of the men, but neither of them threw out his elbow in a jerky manner, which had been a characteristic of Fawn, nor were any of Barsky’s peculiarities observable in the other masked individual.
“Cut out the talk,” advised Kenny to the man who had mentioned Barsky’s name.
“What do you want of me?” boldly demanded Tom.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” answered Schlump.
But his intention of keeping secret the reason for their bold acts was not shared by the masked man who had spoken of the imprisoned Barsky. For approaching Tom and shaking his fist in the lad’s face the scoundrel exclaimed:
“You’re trying to beat us out of our invention, but it can’t be done! We’ve got you now where we want you!”
“Your invention—what do you mean?” asked Tom, genuinely puzzled.
“The airline express car,” was the unexpected answer. “That’s our invention, and we’re going to get patents on it ahead of you! We don’t intend to let you cheat us out of it. You stole our ideas and models, but we’ll use your models if we have to and get the patents that way.”
“You must be crazy!” exploded Tom. “Your invention! You don’t know what you’re talking about! That car is my own and my father’s idea! As soon as I get away from here I’ll make you sweat for what you’ve done to me!”
One of the men laughed in a sinister manner.
“It will be a long while before you get away from here!” he boasted. “You’ll stay a prisoner even if we have to ship you to the South Seas!”
CHAPTER VIITHE PLOT
Closing in on Tom, the four men soon had him securely bound with ropes. He felt there was little use in struggling against such overwhelming odds. He must conserve his strength until he could use it to better advantage. For the young inventor did not intend to remain any longer than he could help a prisoner of these four men on this lonely island. For it was a lonely island.
Though nearer that end of the lake where Shopton was located, still this little irregular circle of land, rocks, and shrubbery known as Loon Island was a lonesome place. Its name might indicate that, for in times past many loons made their nesting place on the island, and the loon is a very shy bird—it loves not human company.
“There isn’t much chance of any one visiting here to rescue me,” mused Tom to himself as he submitted tamely to being bound. That is, he submitted with seeming tameness, making no struggle. But, truth to tell, he was boiling within at the indignity put upon him and he was wild with righteous rage against the men for their threats to steal his idea of the great airline express.
However, there was nothing to do now but to let the four scoundrels work their will upon him. They were not unduly rough, but they took great care in the tying of the ropes. Then one of them noticed the ring of iron and the few dangling links on Tom’s leg.
“He filed off the chain!” exclaimed one of the masked man. Like his companion he kept his face covered. As for Kenny and Schlump, they did not appear to mind being recognized. Perhaps they felt that Tom would know them even with masks on, so they did not go to the trouble to disguise themselves.
“I guess I have never seen the other two, and that’s why they want to hide their faces from me,” mused Tom. “They don’t want me to recognize them again if I should happen to see them with their masks off. But I may, for all of that.”
Tom had keen and observing eyes, and now, foiled in an attempt to see the faces of the two masked men, he began studying their peculiarities so he might know them again. He studied their walk, their actions, the way in which they used their hands and the tones of their voices. Often a person may be recognized by his voice alone. And Tom remembered how he had recognized Renwick Fawn by that man’s elbow peculiarity. But he could not place these two.
“Yes, he filed the chain off all right,” admitted Kenny. “We might have known he’d do something like that. We should have bound his hands.”
“They’re bound now,” grimly remarked Schlump, as he tightened the knots on the rope around Tom’s wrists. It was so closely drawn as to be painful, but Tom did not murmur. He was not going to let these men know that they were hurting him.
“We’d better take that leg bracelet off,” went on one of the masked men, the larger of the two.
“Why so?” asked Schlump.
“Because the links on it might rattle just at the wrong minute,” was the answer, and the man made a peculiar motion, pointing off to the mainland which Tom could see in the distance as he stood on Loon Island.
In a few moments the young inventor was freed from the leg-iron. It was not heavy, and gave him no particular discomfort, but, all the same, he was glad to be rid of it.
“Made me feel too much like an old slave on the chain gang,” he told himself. What the man had said about the necessity of keeping quiet on Loon Island came to Tom with force now. He had a wild idea of setting up a yelling that might attract some passing oarsman or motor boat man. But he gave this idea up very soon.
“I might get help, and then, again, I might not,” Tom thought. “If I didn’t get it, these fellows would be angry at me and they might beat me up. I want to keep a whole skin as long as I can. I can do better work if I’m not injured. I wonder what their game is, anyhow? It’s a bold one—I’ll say that. And to think I made it easier for them!”
For that is exactly what Tom had done. Thinking it over as best he could amid the whirl of ideas in his brain, he came to the conclusion that he had fallen into his present plight purely by accident. The men could not have known that he would follow that mysterious, disappearing stranger. They could not have known he would go down the flight of secret steps. But he had, through a chain of circumstances, and when the scoundrels found him in their power they proceeded with their plans. Tom had actually played into their hands.
Of course he might have escaped had the motor boat contained but another quart of gasoline, but this was one of the times when Fate played against the young inventor.
Having made their prisoner secure, leaving one of their number to watch him, three of the men went down to the two boats. Tom could hear them laughing as they discovered the plight of the craft he had jumped into.
“Good thing you were short on gas, Kenny!” some one said. “Otherwise he might be on the mainland now.”
“Yes,” was the answer. “Well, he’ll be on mainland, anyhow, by night.”
Tom wondered what this meant. But Schlump, who was guarding him, gave no sign.
All the remainder of that day Tom remained a prisoner on Loon Island with the four men watching him. They seemed to have some human feelings, for they gave Tom water to drink and loosed his hands so that he could eat some of the food they brought to him from the boat in which they had pursued him.
The prisoner was grateful for the food, and more so for the hot coffee, which Kenny made over a fire he kindled. This coffee put heart into Tom, and he felt much better after drinking it.
He was worried, not so much over his own plight, as over what his father and his friends might think about his sudden and mysterious disappearance. That his father would worry, Tom well knew.
But Tom would not give his enemies the satisfaction of asking them their intentions. He preferred to wait and see what would happen.
“They must be going to take me to the mainland,” thought Tom, as he recalled what had been said. “It’s hard to tell whether I’ll have a better chance to escape there or here. I’ll just have to bide my time.”
It seemed that the day would never pass, but at length the shadows grew longer and Tom, who had been thrust into a rocky cranny behind a clump of bushes, realized that night was settling down. It would be the second night of his absence from home and he could imagine the anxiety among his friends.
“They won’t know what to think,” reasoned Tom.
Just before dark another meal was served to the prisoner, and then one of the masked men approached the young inventor with a gag in his hands.
“You’ll have to wear this,” he said roughly. “I wouldn’t trust your promise not to yell when we’re crossing the lake. I’m going to fix it so you can’t shout for help!”
And this he did, binding Tom’s mouth securely. It was impossible for him to make himself heard five feet away. Then, when the ropes on his legs and ankles were looked to and made more secure, the prisoner was lifted by two of the men and carried to the larger boat—the one in which the scoundrels had pursued the youth.
He was laid down, with no great gentleness, on one of the side seats, and a little later, under cover of darkness, the trip from Loon Island to the main shore was begun.
Where he was landed Tom did not know—he could not see any familiar landmarks. Nor was he given much time to look about, for no sooner had he been carried out of the boat than he was bundled into a waiting auto and the machine was driven off over a rough road.
By the unevenness of the highway and by the damp smell all about him, Tom concluded that he was being taken through the woods. For an hour or more the journey lasted and then he saw that the machine had stopped in front of a lonely house set in the midst of the trees.
At the sound of the screeching brakes of the auto a door of this house opened, letting out a flood of light, and a voice asked:
“Have you got him?”
“We sure have!” answered Kenny. “Anybody been here?”
“Not a soul. It’s as quiet as the grave. Take him right upstairs.”
Before Tom quite realized what was happening he felt himself being carried up a flight of steps. He knew he was being taken into a small room, which, from the closeness of the air, seemed not to have been opened for a long time. He was placed on a pile of bags, or something soft on the floor, and a moment later his captors hurriedly left, locking the door behind them.
“Well, this is worse and more of it!” mused Tom, as he lay still a moment. He was on his back. His position was most uncomfortable and he began to roll over cautiously. He did not know but what there might be holes or trap-doors in the floor. He did not want to fall through.
He got over on his side and then, to his delight, he felt the gag loosening in his mouth. By rubbing it on his shoulder he managed to get free of it, and this was a great relief. He could breathe more freely now.
Moving cautiously around, his eyes saw a little sliver of light coming through a crack in the floor. Getting as near this as he could, Tom looked down. He saw below him, gathered about the table, five men. Two were Kenny and Schlump. The other two he saw were his other captors, the masked men. The fifth man seemed to be the keeper of the lonely cabin. They were talking in cautious tones, but the crack in the floor acted as a sort of speaking tube, and Tom thus heard mention of the plot against him.
“If we can’t do anything else,” muttered one of the men, “we’ll blow up the Swift plant and those airline express models, too. Then there will be no question about us getting the patent. That’s what we’ll do—we’ll blow up the plant!”
“When?” some one asked.
“To-morrow!” came the quick answer.
Tom felt a sinking at his heart. Here he was, bound and helpless, in the hands of his enemies who were hatching a vile plot against him and his father. Blow up the Swift plant! It was terrible to contemplate!
Tom began to struggle fiercely to release himself.
CHAPTER VIIIMR. DAMON’S NEWS
“Bless my gasoline tank, I’m afraid I’ve done some damage!” cried Wakefield Damon.
“If you haven’t damaged yourself you’re lucky,” grimly commented Ned.
“No, I guess I’m all right,” said the eccentric man as he climbed out of his plane. He had managed to bring it to a level landing on the ground, though it was more by good luck than by good management.
He had flown over from Waterfield in the early morning, and either had not seen, or else had forgotten about, Tom’s new mooring mast on the edge of the landing field. Straight for the big steel pole Mr. Damon had steered his craft, to swerve it at the last moment so that only one edge of a wing scraped it.
However, that impact was sufficiently forceful to snap off the top of the mast and crumple the airship’s wing.
“You got out of that pretty well,” commented Ned, as he made sure, half by feeling and half by an inspection of the odd man, that he was not injured. A casual inspection proved, too, that the plane was not as badly damaged as at first feared.
“I’m sorry about that mooring mast,” said Mr. Damon. “You must tell Tom to send me the bill for repairing it, Mr. Swift. By the way, where is Tom? I have some news for him.”
He looked about the assembled group formed by Ned, Mr. Swift, Koku, and Eradicate. Something of their anxiety must have showed on their faces, for Mr. Damon asked:
“Has anything happened to Tom?”
“We don’t know,” answered Ned.
“We can’t find him,” went on Mr. Swift gravely. “Do you know where he is, Mr. Damon?”
“Me? No, I haven’t seen him,” was the answer. “But I have some news, just the same.”
“News!” cried Ned. “What kind of news?”
“Not very good, I’m afraid. I’ll tell you about it.”
“How did you come to be flying so early in the morning?” Ned wanted to know.
“I came over specially to tell Tom the news,” was the answer. “I thought flying would be the quickest way. I tried to telephone, but I couldn’t raise you on the wire, Mr. Swift.”
“We have been using the wires to communicate with different parts of the plant,” said the old inventor. “That is probably why you could not get us. But I am anxious to hear anything about Tom.”
“I wish I could give you direct news of him,” went on Mr. Damon. “Bless my rubber boots! I’m so excited I hardly know which end I’m standing on—what with colliding with the mooring mast and all that! I wonder if I have damaged my new plane much?”
“Not much,” Ned reassured him. “We can soon put it in shape for you. But you can hardly fly back in it, and you might as well come into the private office and tell what you know.”
A little later, Koku and Eradicate having been sent to the house to tell Mrs. Baggert to telephone out to the works in case Tom arrived home, Mr. Swift, Ned, and Mr. Damon faced each other in the private office of the missing young inventor.
“What’s all this about Tom not being found?” Mr. Damon wanted to know.
Quickly Ned told what had happened—that he had seen Tom outside the big fence, that the young inventor was expected to call on Mary, and that he had not appeared at the young lady’s house.
“And since then we can’t find a trace of him,” concluded Ned.
“Well, what I heard a little while ago may serve as a clew,” stated Mr. Damon. “Let me see now, where shall I begin?”
Ned was so impatient that he felt like telling the odd man to put on plenty of steam and begin anywhere that would give news of Tom.
But the “blessing man,” as the old colored servant called Mr. Damon, must do a thing in his own way or not at all, and he was not to be hurried. So, having marshaled in his own mind what he wanted to say, he began:
“I have been away on a business trip and I only arrived home at two o’clock this morning. I got off the sleeper at the station, and, feeling hungry, I went into one of those lunch wagons across the street to get a bite to eat before going home and to bed.
“Well, while I was eating in this lunch wagon, and I must say the cook has a very clever way of frying eggs—while I was there two men came in—no, it was three men—wait a moment now, I can’t quite be sure of that,” and to Ned’s exasperation Mr. Damon began examining his own recollection to make sure whether it was three or two men.
“Now I remember!” he exclaimed triumphantly, to Ned’s great relief. “First two men came in, and then, later, a third. The first two were queer individuals—I thought they might be criminals, ‘stick-up men,’ you know, and I guess the fellow who ran the lunch wagon did, also, for I saw him slip his revolver out from a drawer and put it near the gas stove where he could get it in a hurry.
“But there was no need. The men were quiet enough. They ordered hamburger steak and onions—a vile combination, I’ll say—and coffee. While they were eating the third man came in—now I have it right—and as soon as the two who had previously entered saw him one of them asked:
“What about our quick friend?”
“ ‘The speedy one is chained up where he can’t do any harm,’ is what the third man said. Then they laughed and the third man also ordered hamburger steak and onions and they began to eat as if they were half-starved.
“I didn’t pay much attention to them at the time, for I was in a hurry to get home—I had told my wife I would arrive at midnight, but the train was late and I knew I’d have to explain why I was out at that hour. So I hurried up with my meal and was coming out when one of the men happened to say:
“ ‘Well, this will put the airline express matter right in our hands!’ It wasn’t until then, as I was coming out and heard this remark, that I began to suspect something.”
“The airline express!” exclaimed Mr. Swift. “Why, that’s Tom’s latest idea!”
“I know it is,” said Mr. Damon. “That’s what made me suspicious. Then I put two and two together—they had spoken about ‘our quick friend,’ and the ‘speedy one,’ and now I know by those words that they meant Tom.”
“It begins to look like that!” cried Ned. “But what was it they said about him—that he was tied up?”
“ ‘Chained up,’ was the expression they used,” Mr. Damon said. “I at once made up my mind that some of Tom’s enemies were plotting against him and I decided to come right over and let him know. I waited a moment after coming out of the lunch wagon, and saw the three plotters disappear down a street that led to a wharf on Lake Carlopa. Then I caught a night-cruising taxi and made for my hangar. I decided to try to call you first by telephone, and, if I couldn’t raise you to warn you to look out, I would aeroplane over and give the alarm.
“Well, I couldn’t get you on the wire, so I roused my mechanic and we wheeled the plane out to my landing field. I didn’t even bother to call up my wife, for I knew she wouldn’t let me go, and I started off and—here I am.”
“Lucky to be here, too, after hitting that mast,” murmured Ned. “But what do you think this all means?”
“It means trouble for Tom, I’m sure of that,” said Mr. Swift. “His enemies have captured him, I’m afraid. That’s what that talk about being chained up means.”
“It does look suspicious,” agreed Ned. “We’d better start at the beginning again and make another search. We can do it better now that we have daylight. Tom has certainly disappeared in a very mysterious manner.”
“You can count on me to help!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my police whistle, but I wish I had grabbed those three scoundrels when I had the chance! They have Tom a prisoner, I’m sure!”
“Hark!” suddenly exclaimed Ned, holding up a warning hand. “Some one is coming!”
CHAPTER IXKOKU’S ALARM
Footsteps could be heard coming along the hall that led to the private office where Ned, Mr. Damon, and Mr. Swift were conferring over the mysterious disappearance of Tom Swift.
“That isn’t Eradicate or Koku,” observed Ned, for well he knew the curious, shuffling gait of the colored man and the heavy tread of the giant.
“Sounds like a lady,” announced Mr. Damon.
“Probably Mrs. Baggert,” said Mr. Swift. “She will be terribly anxious about Tom—she’s like a mother to him.”
But it was not the kind, elderly housekeeper. A moment later Mary Nestor hurried into the room, her face and manner showing that she was worried and excited.
“Have you found Tom?” was her first inquiry, even before she nodded in greeting.
“No, Tom hasn’t showed up yet,” Ned answered with as much cheerfulness as he could put into his voice. “But he’ll be along soon—we hope.” He felt forced to add that last, for as the hours passed and no word came from Tom, even the optimistic Ned began to lose heart.
Then it was that Mary Nestor showed her true grit and spirit. Instead of sitting down and sighing or crying, she assumed a firm air and said:
“When he didn’t come over last night I had a feeling that something had happened to him. I can’t explain it, but I had that feeling. Now what have you done to find him, and what else remains to be done?”
“There’s system for you!” exclaimed Ned admiringly. “Well, here’s the situation.” Then he related to Mary what they knew of the case, stating that he had met Tom the evening before just outside the big fence.
“Then that was the last any one has seen of him?” said the girl.
“Yes, the last, as far as we can find out,” Ned answered. “When all the men report for work we will have each one questioned. It is possible some of them may have seen Tom after I did.”
But this hope soon faded. A check-up of the entire factory force resulted in nothing.
“The next thing to do,” decided Mary, “is to begin at the point where you saw him, Ned, and make a careful examination of the ground, to see if there is any evidence of a struggle. It is possible that Tom was overpowered and carried off soon after you left him.”
“I don’t see how that could happen without his giving an alarm,” answered the young financial manager of the Swift plant. “But we’ll go over that place with a fine tooth comb.”
With the help of Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor, who had followed his daughter, this was done. Of course Koku and Eradicate insisted on joining in the search, and had it not been that the matter was now getting serious it would have been laughable to watch the giant and the colored man. Each was jealous of the other, each was fearful that the other would be the first to discover Tom.
But nothing was found that would indicate in any way what had happened to the youthful inventor. The men who had used the secret flight of steps and the tunnel to carry Tom away had returned soon after overpowering him and had covered the opening to the underground stairs, scattering earth and débris over the planks so that a casual examination would disclose nothing wrong.
A closer inspection might have disclosed signs of fresh earth scattered about, but this kind of examination was not made.
By this time every one connected with the Swift factory knew of the young inventor’s disappearance, and work was ordered stopped for a time while a minute search was begun. Tom was looked for in all possible and in some impossible places, but all to no effect.
The day passed. Mary remained at the Swift house in order to be close at hand if Tom should return unexpectedly.
Ned began to look and feel blue and depressed when night came again and there was no sign of Tom. But, in contrast to this, Mary was outwardly more cheerful.
“Somehow,” she said, “I feel that we shall have news of Tom before morning.”
“What makes you think so?” asked Ned.
“I don’t know—but I have that feeling,” answered the girl. “You know if Tom has been caught and taken away, night would be the best time for him to escape, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would,” admitted Ned. “But I can’t believe that he has been captured.”
“I can,” Mary asserted. “I have had a feeling for some time that Tom would be in danger as soon as he tried to go ahead with that new invention of his—the airline express. It always has happened so from the time he made his first speedy motor boat until he put his valuable papers in the Chest of Secrets. Always some enemies have been on his trail. And you don’t imagine they’re going to stop and let him alone, do you, when he’s got something as big as this airline express almost perfected?”
“Well, of course there are always scoundrels ready to take advantage of what an inventor does,” admitted Ned. “But this airline express has been kept so secret I thought only a few of us knew of it.”
“That’s what Tom hoped,” Mary said. “But only a few days ago he told me he had had to discharge two men because he suspected them. I forget their names—something like Renny and Hemp.”
“Kenny and Schlump,” corrected Ned. “Yes, he told me about those men. But still, and with all you have said, I can’t believe Tom has been captured.”
The day passed and night came. Mr. Swift remained at the private office in the plant until nearly ten o’clock, hoping that some word would come from Tom; but none did, and an hour later Mr. Damon insisted on taking the old inventor home.
“Koku and I will stay here,” volunteered Ned. “And, after all, Tom is as likely to go home or send some word there as he is to come to the plant. So we can divide our forces.”
This was done, and Ned and the giant settled themselves down for the night’s vigil. Several hours passed, and all was quiet at the plant. Ned was dozing when the big man, who had been sitting at a window from which he had a view of the big fence, suddenly arose and whispered:
“Somebody come!”
“Somebody coming? What do you mean, Koku?” asked Ned.
“Man try climb fence,” went on the giant, pointing out of the window. “Koku see him! Koku get him! Bust him all up in slats!”
“Wait a minute!” cautioned Ned, as he caught hold of the big man who was about to rush from the room. “No one can get over, through, or under that fence without setting off the alarm. It would ring here as well as in other parts of the plant, Koku, and the bell hasn’t tinkled. You must have fallen asleep and dreamed it.”
“Koku saw man on fence!” insisted the giant. “Maybe so him cut alarm wires.”
“Even cutting the wires would ring a bell,” insisted Ned.
“Maybe Master Tom hisself come and try get away from bad mans by climb fence,” went on the giant, whose English left much to be desired. “Master Tom—he know how climb fence and no ring bell.”
“That’s possible,” admitted Ned. “Tom rigged up the burglar alarm on the fence and he might know a way to beat his own game. Maybe you’re right after all, Koku. We’ll go and take a look. Where did you see the man on the fence?”
“There,” said the giant, and he pointed out the place to Ned, who stood beside him in the open window. “Look—there him now!” cried the big man.
Ned had a glimpse of a figure trying to scale the high fence. In the darkness, illuminated only by a little light from the waning moon, the young financial man could not be sure whether it was a man or an animal. Even then he was wondering how it was possible for any creature to get up on the fence without sounding the alarm. And while Ned was thus wondering the alarm went off with a sudden clang that was startling.
“Now we catch ’um!” cried Koku, as he raced from the room, followed by Ned.
The alarm, ringing simultaneously in different parts of the plant, summoned a number of watchmen. As the alarm gave the location on the fence where the attempt had been made to scale it, the forces gathered there, Koku and Ned being the first to arrive.
But when a search was made with oil lanterns and electric torches no trace of an intruder could be found. The ground was hard and dry near the fence and no footprints were observed.
But Ned and the giant were sure an attempt had been made by some man to get into the Swift plant. That this was not Tom went without saying.
“They had Tom a captive somewhere,” said Ned later, when he related the incident to Mr. Damon and Mr. Swift. “And thinking that with Tom out of the way it was safe to try to get in, that’s what they did. But they didn’t count on the electric alarm.”
“I wish we could have caught that fellow!” murmured Mr. Swift.
“I’d ’a’ kotched him ef I’d a bin dar!” declared Eradicate with a scornful glance at the giant. “Dat big man am too stiff to run! Better let ole ’Rad stay on guard de rest ob de night!”
“Hu!” taunted Koku. “Yo’ so small burglar man eat yo’ up!”
The remainder of the night brought nothing further—neither an alarm nor a capture. Morning came, the second day of Tom’s disappearance, a disappearance that was just as strange as at first. Mary and the others were greatly worried now, and Mr. Swift was beginning to think that it would be best to notify the police and broadcast his son’s disappearance.
It was in the afternoon, when Ned, Mr. Damon, Mary, and Mr. Swift were in the private office discussing plans, that the telephone bell rang. Ned made a jump for it, for though the signal had sounded several times during the day, each time only to have some routine work matter discussed over the instrument, still every time he heard the bell Ned felt certain it was a message from Tom. And this time his hopes were rewarded.
“Hello! Hello!” called Ned into the transmitter. Then, as he listened, what he heard made his eyes open wide with wonder. For over the wire came the voice of the young inventor himself, though faint and showing evidences of a great strain.
“Hello, Ned!” came from Tom. “I’ve just escaped! Watch the plant! Get Father to safety. Look out for bombs! I’ll try——”
Then the voice died away to silence.