“Look out for yourself. You have started but you haven’t finished. Our time is coming.“The Masked Two.”
“Look out for yourself. You have started but you haven’t finished. Our time is coming.
“The Masked Two.”
“Well, of all the nerve!” cried Ned.
“Haven’t they!” said Tom. “But it will take more than threats to make me give up this project. I haven’t got my final patent papers, but I will when I finish these trial trips. I need to make only five more after this, and then Jacks will put in a lot of money. It was lack of ready money that was holding me back—once I have plenty of cash I can snap my fingers at those fellows!”
“Only five more trips,” murmured Ned. “And this one hasn’t finished its first third, Tom. But we’ll do it! The Masked Two can go jump in the lake.”
“You said it!” exclaimed Tom. “I’m not going to worry any more about it. Come on up in the plane with me.”
But though Tom declared that he was not going to worry over the matter, still he could not altogether dismiss it from his mind. He had left his aged father at home in charge of the works, and though there were faithful men around him and every safeguard that ingenuity could devise, still those sinister enemies might find some way of breaking through the cordon and damaging the plant or injuring Mr. Swift. So, in spite of his brave words, Tom worried.
“However, we’re in touch with them all the while by wireless,” Ned remarked, as Meldrum and Dodge descended when Tom had assumed charge of the controls, with Ned to help him. “You can always send and receive messages, and so you’ll know when anything happens.”
“Yes,” agreed the young inventor. “I almost forgot about that. I can keep in touch with home that way. I’ll wireless back soon, and see how everything is.”
This Tom did after he had speeded up the plane a little, once he found the motor was working well after warming up. They were now high in the air, hastening west.
Ned sent off the message through the ether waves. A powerful radio set had been installed, and Tom could talk directly to his father, which he was soon doing.
“We’re making fast time, Dad,” he told him. “How are things back there?”
“All right, Tom. You made a fine start. I only hope you keep it up.”
“We will. And look out for yourself. Our enemies haven’t given up.”
“I’ll be on the watch, Tom. Good-bye and good luck!”
For over four hours Tom and Ned, by turns, with occasional relief from Meldrum and Dodge, kept the motors running at top speed. And it was not quite mid morning by the clock when Ned, taking an observation, cried to his friend:
“There’s Chicago below us, Tom!”
“Good!” exulted Tom Swift. “We’ll finish the first leg a little ahead of time!”
CHAPTER XIXDENVER
Tom, by his calculations and by computing their rate of speed for the past five hours, was already pretty sure in his own mind that they would reach the City of the Lakes at least within the time limit he had set for himself. But he was, nevertheless, glad of Ned’s confirmation.
“Now if they have everything in readiness at the field, we won’t lose much time in detaching this car from theFalconand in hitching it on to theEagle,” Tom remarked to his chum as he prepared to make the landing.
“It wouldn’t do any harm to wireless them and make sure,” Ned suggested.
“No, you’re right. Go ahead and do it. And, by crickity grasshoppers!” cried Tom, as he looked at the gasoline and oil gages, “we’re getting in just by the skin of our teeth, too.”
“How come?” asked Ned.
“We’ve got just about enough gas left to make the field,” Tom said. “I didn’t realize we’d used up quite so much. The engine was cold when we started so early in the morning, I guess, and it took more fuel to pep it up. I’ll take along a bit extra on the next two legs.”
“A good idea,” suggested Ned, as he began working the wireless instrument, to call the operator at the Chicago landing field. He was not long in getting him, for Tom had made his arrangements well, and those associated with him in the airline express were anxiously awaiting his arrival.
“We’ll land in about three minutes,” Ned sent the message. “Is everything in readiness for a quick change?”
“All O. K., sir,” was the reply, for a former army flier was in charge here and he held to the traditions of the service.
“Better send word back to Dad,” went on Tom, as he banked the plane slightly in readiness for bringing it up into the wind to make the landing on the big field just below them. Off to the left was the glistening lake, and Tom had a momentary glimpse of the wide and beautiful Lake Shore Drive, Chicago’s principal boulevard.
“Did you get him, Ned?” asked the young inventor, as he noted below him the crowd that had assembled to await his landing. Word of the sensational attempt to link the two edges of the United States by a dawn-to-dark flight had been broadcasted all over the country.
“Yes, your father’s all right,” reported Ned, who had been listening. “He sends his congratulations and so does Mary.”
“Is she there?”
“Yes, and anxious for your success,” reported Ned.
“Tell her I’ll talk to her after we hop off on the other leg,” directed Tom, and then his attention had to be given to making a safe landing—no easy feat when it is remembered that he had no ordinary aeroplane to bring down, but a heavy car attached to it and passengers to look after.
But he was successful, letting theFalcongently down to the ground with scarcely a perceptible jolt, and then rolling gently along the even field toward the place where the other plane was in readiness, with motors slowly turning over.
“Lively now!” cried Tom to the men who gathered about him—trained workers from his own shops who had been sent on ahead to make the changes. “Every second counts, boys!”
A curious crowd surged forward to see the daring men who had set out to do their best to annihilate time and space. The throng would have overwhelmed the plane and its occupants, thus preventing the quick shift of the car, but for the fact that mounted police, whose aid Tom had enlisted, kept the curious ones back a certain distance. As it was, however, there was another small army of movie cameramen, newspaper photographers, and reporters on the scene, anxious to get the news.
“Will you please stick your head out of the window, Mr. Swift! Thanks. There! I got you!” Thus spoke one of the newspaper cameramen. Meanwhile others were clicking their shutters while the movie men were industriously grinding the cranks of their machines.
“What were your sensations? Did anything happen on the trip? Do you think you’ll make the next leg on schedule?”
These were only samples of the scores of questions that were fired at Tom by the newspaper reporters as he sat in the car while it was being unclamped from the first plane ready to run, under its own power, to the other plane a short distance away.
Tom answered as best he could, while Meldrum piloted the car carefully through the mass of men eager for information. They were the only ones allowed to approach closely, for Tom well knew the value of newspaper and movie news-reel publicity. He wanted his venture to be well known, since he needed much capital to put it on a paying basis, and the more people who knew about it the better chance he would stand of getting capital into the venture.
So Tom, and Ned occasionally, answered all the questions, gave a brief summary of the first thousand miles of travel and told something of their expectations.
“All ready?” called Tom anxiously, as he looked at his watch. The change was taking a little more time than he had counted on.
“All ready, sir!” came the answer.
“Let go!” Tom called to his new mechanician Sam Stone, who, with his helper, Jim Waldo, was to do most of the driving on the second lap of the journey. Of course Tom would take the wheel now and then to relieve the pilot, who was, necessarily, under a great strain.
The throttles were opened and the twin motors responded with a thundering volume of explosions which sent theEagleacross the field at ever increasing speed, carrying the car and its passengers with it. Then, like some great bird, true to her name, theEaglerose into the air.
Chicago seemed to drop rapidly below the passengers as the plane mounted higher and higher, and her nose was pointed due west. Tom took anxious observations of the various gages, noted the increasing speed, and seemed well satisfied until he scanned the weather reports which one of his assistants handed him. They had just come in from the government observatory in Denver, and as Tom laid them back on the operator’s table there was a worried look on his face.
“What’s the matter?” asked Ned.
“There’s a report of storms ahead,” was the answer. “But we may be able to go above them. Strong head winds, the report says. They are likely to delay us. But we won’t worry until we have to. And now what do you say to something to eat, Ned?”
“I’m in favor of it,” was the answer. “We had breakfast a bit early,” which was true enough.
“Then tell Rad to serve up what he has,” directed the young inventor to another colored man who had been brought along to wait on the table, since Eradicate insisted on doing the cooking.
It was nothing new for Ned, Mr. Damon, and Tom to eat while traveling at high speed far above the earth. They had made many trips in dirigible balloons and other craft, sometimes remaining up almost a week at a time. But this was the first occasion where so much depended on long-continued speed, and the meal which was soon served was more or less interrupted as Tom left the table to ascertain what progress they were making.
On the whole, it was satisfactory. As hour after hour passed, the time being whiled away by communicating back to Shopton now and again—Tom holding his promised conversation with Mary—it began to look as if the great project would succeed. It was an hour after lunch when Tom, peering down toward earth through a pair of powerful binoculars, announced with exultation:
“There’s Denver!”
“On time, too!” exclaimed Ned. “Tom, we’re going to make it!”
They had just come down from the plane cockpit, where Tom, with Ned’s help, had been guiding the craft.
“Yes, it looks as if we had two-thirds of our journey behind us,” the young inventor was saying when from the galley came the cry of Eradicate:
“Fire! Fire! She’s on fire!”
CHAPTER XXA MOUNTAIN STORM
Tom Swift had to think of many matters when he planned his airline express. He was aided, however, by his past experience in manufacturing aircraft and he had made many journeys above the earth and had been in many kinds of peril.
Not the least of these were fires, and Tom well realized the danger of ignition in a craft necessarily so frail as a flying machine heavier than air. So in building theFalcon, theEagle, and theOspreyhe had taken into consideration this menace and had installed certain fire-fighting apparatus.
In order that this might be used to the best advantage, Tom had instructed his men in a fire drill, similar to that used on ships at sea when the call to fire quarters is sounded at unexpected intervals to accustom the passengers to acting sanely in times of excitement.
Now, as Eradicated warning cry sounded forth, Tom did not lose his head, but at once pulled the level of the automatic signal which informed those in the plane above, as well as those in the car, that they must prepare to fight for their lives.
“Put on the parachutes!” Tom cried, for there was one of these life-savers for every person on board. As you know, all the mail-plane fliers now wear these “umbrellas,” as do all army fliers. The parachute is made from a particular kind of raw silk cloth. It can be folded into a very small compass, and is strapped around a flier’s body by means of leather belts going around his legs and waist. On the waist belt is an iron ring, and as the person jumps from a burning plane, or one that is crippled and falling, this iron ring is pulled.
Immediately it releases the cords that hold the parachute in folds and the silk spreads out in the form of an immense umbrella. The air, getting under this, acts as a brake, and the person comes to the ground much more gently than otherwise would be the case. Even with the parachutes, however, there is danger in the fall, if it happens to be in a tree, and often there is peril in falling into the water. But, with all those, there is much more chance for life than if none is used. There is, too, always the danger that the parachute will not open in time, but this happens so rarely that it need not be considered.
“Bless my door mat!” cried Mr. Damon, fumbling with the straps. “I hope I don’t get this thing on backward!”
“This is the way it goes!” cried Ned, who already had his adjusted.
Tom, likewise, had adjusted his safety device, and now the young inventor, thinking regretfully meanwhile of this sudden ending of his hopes, began to prepare for “abandoning ship.”
“Come here, Rad!” he called, for though the colored man’s voice had issued from the galley with the warning cry of fire, the man himself had not appeared. “Hurry, Rad!” cried Tom.
A moment later his old servant showed himself.
“What happened, Rad?” cried Tom. “Quick! Is the kitchen on fire? The automatic chemical sprinkler ought to have worked!”
“No, Massa Tom,” answered the old colored man. “De kitchen didn’t cotch fire—jes’ dis pie whut I was makin’ fo’ yo’. I put her in de oven ob de gaskoliny stove, and den I forgot it. ’Case why? ’Case dat big giant got hungry an’ wanted me to fix him up suffin to eat. An’ when I were doin’ dat mah pie burned! Look, it’s laik a piece ob charcoal.”
“And do you mean to tell me, Rad, that you raised an alarm of fire just because a pie burned?” cried Tom, somewhat sternly.
“Suah, I did,” was the answer. “Why not? It was a fine pie!”
“Well, bless my insurance policy!” exclaimed Mr. Damon while the others stood listening, hardly knowing whether to laugh or not. “You sure did give us a scare, Rad!”
“I should say so!” murmured Tom. “Whew, but I’m glad it wasn’t true! It would have meant the end of my hopes. Mr. Jacks wouldn’t invest any more money if we burned up on the second third of our trip. But are you sure everything’s all right, Rad?”
“Yes, Massa Tom, eberyt’ing but dish yeah pie!” and ruefully the old colored fellow held out the remains of the pastry.
“Well, I’m glad it was no worse,” replied the young inventor. “I guess we can take these off,” he went on, as he began loosening his parachute belt. The others did likewise, and then word was relayed to the mechanicians in the plane above that all was well and that there was no need to leap out.
“Well, then we’ll descend on Denver in the way we originally intended,” decided Tom, for they were now over that interesting and historic city.
The same scenes were enacted here as had taken place in Chicago. A big crowd was on hand to welcome and cheer Tom Swift and his comrades, and the natural western exuberance of the people was a little too much for the police. Tom had difficulty in piloting the unclamped car through the mass of curious ones to the waitingOsprey, the propellers of which were slowly whirring in anticipation of the flight to the Pacific coast.
But after answering many questions of the reporters and posing for his photograph and for the movie men, Tom at last was in the car beneath the third aeroplane. It was now well on in the afternoon, and if the originator of the airline express hoped to do the entire distance in sixteen hours it behooved him to “get a hustle on,” as Ned expressed it.
“The hardest part of the trip is ahead of us, Tom,” his manager said.
“I know it is,” was the answer. “Over the Rockies. But the predicted storm hasn’t come to the scratch, and I’m glad of that. It means quite a gain in time not to run into bad weather.”
“Better wait before you crow,” said Ned. “We have about six hours of riding ahead of us, and there’s no telling what we may meet with.”
Tom was glad to note, by inspections of the various gages, that theOspreywas doing better in regard to speed than either theFalconor theEagle. She fairly roared and soared her way into the air after leaving Denver, carrying aloft, in the car beneath her, the young inventor and his friends.
Tom got the wireless apparatus to working and after some difficulty succeeded in establishing communication with his home, where he talked to Mrs. Baggert.
“Your father is lying down, taking a nap,” reported the housekeeper. “Yes, he’s all right. But a queer message came in over the local office telephone a little while ago, Tom. Wait, I’ll repeat it to you. I answered, because no one else was around, and I heard a voice saying: ‘Tell Tom Swift not to count his chickens before they’re hatched!’ And then a man’s voice laughed. I tried to find out who it was and where the message came from, but I couldn’t.”
“Oh, well, don’t worry about it,” Tom advised Mrs. Baggert, though he himself felt not a little anxious. “They’re still up to their old tricks, Ned,” Tom reported to his financial manager.
“Well, they can’t get at us while we’re up here,” Ned answered.
“No, but we aren’t at San Francisco yet, and something may happen there,” Tom replied. “I do hope they won’t make any more trouble for Dad.”
“He will be well looked after by Mrs. Baggert and the others,” was Ned’s consoling reply.
On and on roared theOsprey, like the great hawk whose name she bore, winging her way toward the great open space of the Pacific. The hours rolled around, and they were crossing a wild and desolate rocky region when suddenly the comparative stillness was broken by a loud, booming sound, as if of an explosion.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Ned, and Tom, who was making a log record of the trip, looked up apprehensively.
“Thunder!” answered Mr. Damon, who was sitting near one of the observation windows. “I just saw a flash of lightning. I guess we’re running into a storm.”
There was no doubt of it a few moments later. With theOspreyrushing forward and the mountain storm coming to meet the craft, it was only a short time before the airline express was in the midst of a violent outburst of the elements.
“Whew, this is fierce!” cried Tom, as there came a blinding flash, followed by a terrific clap, and then, almost immediately after, by a shower of rain as if a cloud had burst above them.
CHAPTER XXITHE GOLDEN GATE
Caught in the very center of a fierce mountain storm, theOspreywas now battling her way above the jagged and towering peaks of the Rockies, fighting for every inch in an endeavor to reach San Francisco within the stipulated time. Though by the clock there were several hours of daylight still remaining, it was so dark and gloomy in the stormy mountain region that it seemed as if night had fallen.
“But we may pull out of it yet!” cried Tom to his friends, as he saw to it that all the openings of the traveling car were tightly closed. For once the air, under high pressure because of the velocity of the wind, gained an entrance, it might do serious damage. But Tom had foreseen that they might run into storms, and had so built his car that a few pulls on certain levers would close everything save the protected ventilators.
Through these fresh air came in and the foul air was expelled, but rain could not enter. It was different in the aeroplane above the car, however. There the mechanician and his assistant were pretty much in the open, though there was a cowl of heavy celluloid to protect their faces and Tom had rigged up an extra hood to keep off some of the rain and snow that might be encountered on the trip. But from the very nature of their calling, aeroplane pilots must fly with much of their bodies exposed to the elements.
When they expect to go to great heights and encounter cold of such intensity that it is hard to conceive of it, they wear suits in which are woven wires of high resistance. A low voltage electric current, passing through these wires, warms them, just as is done in some of the warming pads used in bed by invalids. In this way the blood of the daring aviators is kept circulating.
But as Tom did not expect to go very high on his airline express trips, there was no need of these electrically heated suits, and none had been taken along. However, he had taken into consideration that they might run into rain, and rubber coats had been provided.
“I’ll go up and relieve Ted Dolan,” remarked Tom to Ned, for the third crew of pilots had been taken on at Denver to make the final hop to the Pacific coast. Dolan was an experienced airman and had for his helper Art Wright. But they had not taken their rubber coats up in the cockpit with them, for when they left Denver the weather was all that could be desired.
“I’ll go with you,” offered Ned. “I’d like to see just how bad this storm is.”
“It’s a humdinger all right,” declared Tom, as he glanced out of an observation window while waiting for Eradicate to bring the storm garments from a locker.
“Bless my nose-guard, I’ll say it is!” chimed in Mr. Damon. “I never saw a worse one.”
“Oh, we’ve been in just as severe ones before,” observed Tom, in what seemed a cool voice. “When we were trying out the flying boat I remember a storm when I thought we never would get through it. This is bad enough, but theOspreycan buck it I think.”
“Ah knows Massa Tom gwine to pull us through all right,” said Eradicate, with a glance at Koku. “Ah isn’t scairt, no how!”
“Huh! Black man talk big—but him knees shake all same,” sneered the giant.
“Whose knees am shakin’, big man? Whose knees am shakin’?” demanded the colored servant, as he strode toward the big fellow. It seemed as if he might try to punch Koku.
“That will do,” commanded Tom in a low voice. He had troubles enough on hand without a fight starting between his two helpers.
A signal was given for Wright to descend to the cabin, and when he came down Tom went up through the enclosed ladder.
“Is it bad up there?” he asked his workman.
“Bad?” was the reply. “Say, you ought to feel it!” He was wet through—as dripping as though he had fallen into a tub of water.
When Tom took charge of the cockpit Dolan descended, glad enough to get out of the way of the stinging pellets of rain, driven by the hurricane wind. He, too, was soaked. Ned followed his chum up into the cockpit, and, though they were protected by goggles, helmets of leather, and rubber coats, they felt the force of the storm.
What with the roaring of the motors, the howl of the wind, the crash of thunder, and the rattle of the rain, it was impossible for the two to communicate, even though they had speaking tubes running from the forward cockpit to the one built aft.
The young inventor, who had taken personal charge of piloting the big plane through the storm, that it might arrive on time, soon realized that he had his “work cut out for him,” as he said later. While it is not at all unusual for aeroplanes of even less power than the big ones Tom used to fly through storms, still there is always the element of danger.
But Tom’sOspreyhad one advantage. Because of the heavy car slung below it, the center of gravity was thus made much lower than usual, and this served to keep the craft steady.
Tom glanced at the oil gage, at the gasoline indicator, and at the needle of the dial which showed their height above the ground. He had noted the tips of several jagged peaks below as they flew over them, and he realized that while they might be up sufficiently high in flying over level ground, they were not when traversing the Rocky Mountains.
“A little drop and we’ll scrape some of those stone teeth,” thought Tom. “I’m going up a bit.”
He was in much more comfortable circumstances than had been the two men whom he and Ned relieved, for the storm garments protected him and his chum. Consequently Tom could give more undivided attention to managing the craft. His first act was to increase the speed of the motor and tilt the elevating rudder to send them higher.
“He’s going to try to rise above the storm,” decided Ned, though this was not actually Tom’s idea. He merely wanted to be a little farther above those towering mountain peaks.
TheOspreyresponded well, and soon they had lost sight of the jagged “teeth,” as Tom called them. But the storm was not to be cheated in this way, and still raged around them.
“Why doesn’t he go higher?” thought Ned. “He’s often flown at a greater elevation than this and in bigger machines. Once he’s above the clouds he’ll be out of the storm and into sunshine,” for the sun was still above the horizon, though invisible to the travelers on account of the masses of storm vapor.
However, Tom did not want to take too many chances. He felt that his craft was doing quite well as it was, forging ahead, though at some loss of speed, and if he could keep her there he would make the journey safely, though he began to figure now on losing an hour or two from his schedule of sixteen.
For a time the storm seemed to abate a little, and they were congratulating themselves that they had ridden through it, when, all at once, it burst over them with redoubled fury. So powerful was the wind that once or twice theOspreyseemed actually to stand still.
Of course that might not really have been the case. Wind seldom obtains a velocity of more than a hundred miles an hour, even in the worst storms, and Tom’s craft was keyed up now to do at least two hundred miles, which was double that of the wind. But it may well have been that her speed was cut down by half, and from what developed afterward Tom was inclined to think this was the case.
But with a fierceness of spirit that equaled the fierceness of the storm, Tom drove his machine on. He was determined to finish this first trip at least pretty nearly on schedule. It would mean a wonderful amount of prestige for him if he could, and almost insure the success of the undertaking.
Though at one time, during a terrific outburst of wind, lightning, and rain, it seemed as if they would be utterly overwhelmed, Tom was skillful, and brought theOspreyaround and straightened her out of a dangerous side slip.
Then, almost as suddenly as the storm had begun, it stopped. The machine slid out of the region of wild disturbance into daylight. Ned, peering past Tom, looked ahead. He saw something that caused him to cry:
“The Golden Gate!”
“Yes,” shouted back Tom, “that’s San Francisco just ahead of us. But we’ve lost about two hours!”
CHAPTER XXIIKENNY BREAKS DOWN
The quiet following the storm came as a great relief to Tom and Ned, alone up there in the cockpit of the plane. Though their friends were within a few feet of them, they really seemed quite isolated, for they could neither see nor hear the others in the car below them.
“Well, I’m glad we’re out of that,” remarked Tom, with a long breath—the first, seemingly, that he had taken in some time.
“Same here!” commented Ned. They were able to converse now by means of the speaking tube which connected the forward and aft cockpits, having only to overcome the roar of the motors and not the fierce rattle of the storm.
“And I guess if we do it inside of nineteen hours we’ve accomplished a lot,” went on Tom. “The Broadway Limited thinks it’s doing wonders if it goes from New York to Chicago in eighteen, but we have them skinned by several miles.”
“You said it!” cried Ned, with justified enthusiasm. “But do you think you’ll lose all of two hours, Tom?”
“Fully that,” Tom admitted, rather ruefully. “I did hope we might make it in sixteen hours and a few minutes, as I said we could do. But that storm actually cut two hours, if not more, off our schedule. However, it can’t be helped.”
So rapidly was theOspreymaking time now that it seemed as if the Golden Gate were rushing forward and opening wide to receive the wonderful craft and her occupants. It is the sun, setting in a glory of gold outside the harbor of San Francisco that gives the poetical name to the city, as much so, perhaps, as the yellow nuggets it produced in the days that never will return.
There came a signal from the car. It was Ted Dolan calling up to Tom:
“Do you want to be relieved?”
“Thank you, no,” the young inventor answered. “I’ll stick now and make the landing.”
“I thought you might want to do so,” Ted said. “But if the storm played you out, Art and I will take her for a little while and you and Mr. Newton can come up again just before making the landing.”
“No, I’ll stick,” announced Tom. “How about you?” he asked his chum.
“I’m game, of course. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. They ought to reward you publicly in some way, Tom!”
“Reward! What for?”
“For establishing this airline express—crossing the United States in the daylight hours of a single day.”
“Reward nothing! If I can do it, the only reward I want is for Jason Jacks and others who can afford it to invest money in the project and get it firmly established.”
“Oh, they’ll do that all right, Tom. Is that the landing field below us?”
Ned pointed to a green level stretch outside the city of San Francisco. They had approached it rapidly, for theOsprey, as if determining to live up to her name, was fairly zooming toward the Pacific.
“That’s it,” was the answer. “There’s quite a crowd there, too! Hope I don’t muss anybody’s hair as I go down. Confound the people! Why don’t they know enough to keep out of the way when they see an aeroplane coming down right among ’em?”
Well might Tom ask this, for the crowd, which had assembled in anticipation of seeing the landing, was swarming all over the field in spite of the efforts of the police to keep a free place for the machine to come down.
“I’ll give ’em a bit of a scare,” decided Tom. Quickly shifting the rudder of his plane, it appeared for a moment as if he was going to crash down where the crowd was thickest. With yells of alarm the people scattered, and this left a clear space, which was what Tom wanted.
“Now for a landing, Ned!” he called to his chum. “Mark the time!”
“Mark it is!” answered Ned, who sat with his watch in one hand and a pencil in the other, ready to make the record on the official slip of paper he held on his knee. “It’s over eighteen hours, though, Tom,” he said regretfully.
“I’m afraid it is, Ned. But it can’t be helped. Better luck next time!”
“Hope so,” was the response.
A moment later, amid the wild and enthusiastic cheers of the crowd, Tom brought theOspreyto earth, the first time she had touched it since leaving Denver. The car landed with a gentle thud, rolled along a little way and then came to a stop while the crowd of reporters, cameramen, and general curiosity seekers rushed forward in an overwhelming wave. It was a reproduction of the same scenes that had taken place in Chicago and Denver, only this was more intensified, for it marked the end of the journey.
But before Tom would reply to the score of questions hurled at him by the reporters he called to Ned:
“What time do you make it?”
The manager figured rapidly.
“Eighteen hours and sixteen minutes from Long Island to San Francisco,” he answered.
“Not so bad,” murmured Tom. “But we’re going to do better than that the next time.”
And then, as he stepped down from the plane, he was surrounded by an excited and curious crowd.
“Tell us about it! What was the exact running time? Did you have any accidents? How do you feel? When are you going to make the return trip?”
These, and dozens of other questions, were fairly volleyed at Tom by the newspaper men, and he answered as best he could. By this time he was used to the printed publicity that followed his work, and he knew the value of it. So he was always courteous and kind to the reporters and photographers, patiently posing for the latter and letting them take as many pictures as they wanted.
It was a great feat, and every one realized that. As soon as enterprising reporters had telephoned the facts in to their papers in San Francisco, whistles were blown and bells were rung to celebrate the event. Tom was a popular hero, much as he disliked the role.
The news of his arrival was flashed back over land wires and by means of radio to New York and the East, though Tom did not wait for Mary and his father to receive the good news in this indirect way. As soon as he had given the reporters the gist of the story, speaking of the terrible storm through which they had run, Tom had his operator get in touch with his home on the radio. In a short time Tom’s voice was heard in the house at Shopton where Mary, her father and mother, and Mr. Swift had been sitting, anxiously waiting. It was night there, though still daylight in San Francisco.
“I’m all right, Dad!” reported the young inventor. “Didn’t make it quite as speedily as I hoped, but I’ll do better on the return trip. How’s Mary?”
“She’s all right,” answered Mr. Swift. “She will speak to you in a moment. But, Tom, be careful. I’m worried about you. A number of mysterious messages have come in over the telephone wires during the day. I’m afraid your enemies are still on your trail.”
“Well, maybe they are, Dad, but I think I have given them the slip,” laughed Tom. “Anyhow, they couldn’t stop me from making this one trip. And now let me talk to Mary.”
They were soon in conversation and the girl was greatly relieved to learn that Tom and his friends were safe.
“But do be careful, won’t you?” she begged.
“I sure will!” Tom promised. “Don’t worry! I haven’t seen any of those fellows out here. Guess it was too far for them.”
He was soon to learn, however, that this was not the case.
Bidding Mary good-bye over the radio and promising to talk to her again as soon as he could, Tom shut off the power on the wireless and made preparations for having his machine guarded during the night. Except for some of the mechanicians who would sleep on board, the others were to go to a hotel. There they would get some much-needed rest and prepare to make the return trip in a few days. Tom wanted time, however, to have the engines carefully gone over. Also he wanted to communicate with the crews in Denver and Chicago and have them alert and ready to speed him on his way when the return trip should be made.
A hasty inspection of theOspreyshowed that the plane had sustained no damage in flying through the storm, but could, after a few adjustments, make the return journey.
“Well, what do you say to a good bath, Ned, and a lobster supper?” asked Tom of his chum, when they had summoned an automobile which would take them and Mr. Damon, with Eradicate, to the hotel.
“That sounds good to me,” Ned answered.
“Koku he stay and guard machine,” announced the big giant proudly, for Tom had informed him that was to be his duty.
“Don’t let anybody near it,” cautioned his master.
“Anybody come—Koku make ’um all full holes,” was the grim answer.
“Mebby Ah better stay, too,” suggested Eradicate.
“No, I want you with me, Rad,” Tom said. “I need looking after and so does Ned. We brought only one suit of clothes each, and they need pressing.”
“Dat’s whut I’ll do!” said the old colored man. He was pleased thus to serve his master.
So great was the interest manifested by the papers in Tom’s exploit that he could hardly get away from the reporters long enough to eat. At last he had fairly to beg them to give him a few minutes of quiet, and reluctantly they consented.
But after he had bathed and dined they were at him again, so it was long past midnight when Tom was really free. Mr. Damon, tired with the unusual trip, had retired, and thus Tom and his financial manager found themselves left pretty much alone.
“I don’t feel a bit like sleeping,” Tom said, “I’d only toss and tumble if I went to bed.”
“Same here,” agreed Ned.
“What do you say if we take a run out to the plane?” asked Tom. “I’d like to make sure she’s all right, even with Koku and the others on guard. There’s altogether too much curiosity about her.”
“I’m with you—come on.”
A taxicab took them out to the landing field, but, being a new man, the driver made a wrong approach and found himself on a blind road, half a mile from theOsprey’slanding place.
“Never mind,” said Tom, when the man offered to go back and approach by the proper route. “We can make better time by walking across lots. This will do.”
Tom paid and dismissed the driver and then he and Ned made their way through the darkness, somewhat illuminated by the moon, toward the place where the craft rested. Their approach was unnoticed, which was beginning to make Tom think that perhaps Koku was not as active on guard duty as he might have been, when suddenly from the bushes just ahead of them a man sprang. He started to run away, but Ned, sensing something suspicious in his movements, sprang forward and caught hold of him.
“Who are you?” cried the young financial manager. “What have you been doing? Show a light here, Tom,” for Ned knew his chum carried a pocket flashlight.
When the gleam was thrown on the man’s face Tom cried:
“Kenny! You here!”
Then, to the surprise of Tom and Ned, the fellow broke down and actually began to whimper as if his spirit was broken.
“I give up, Mr. Swift!” he exclaimed. “I can’t fight against you! It’s too big a thing you’ve done. Nobody else could have done it. I’m through with those fellows! But look out—they’ll ruin you if they get the chance. Now have me arrested if you want to—I’m done!”
He stood there, making no effort to escape, a broken, dejected man.