CHAPTER XXIIIANOTHER CAPTURE
Tom Swift could not understand this attitude on the part of Kenny. The fellow had been one of the four (including the two mysterious masked men) who had captured Tom in the tunnel and had held him a prisoner on the island in the lake. Kenny had seemed as relentless and vicious as any of the four who were intent on getting away from Tom his patent on the airline express.
Now, after an easy capture, Kenny had broken down—given up—and professed to be sorry. It did not seem natural. No wonder Tom and Ned were on their guard.
“What were you doing back there at the plane, if that’s where you were?” demanded Tom, while Ned held the prisoner fast.
“Yes, I was near your plane, but I didn’t do any damage—I—I just couldn’t,” Kenny faltered.
“Were you going to do any damage?” Tom inquired sternly.
“I was—if I could—yes,” was the reply. “They wanted me to blow it up or damage it in some way, so you couldn’t make the return trip. But I hadn’t the heart to do it—I just couldn’t bring myself to it, Mr. Swift—I just couldn’t.”
“Who do you mean wanted you to blow up my machine?” asked the young inventor. “Was it Schlump and those two masked men? Who are they, anyhow?”
“Yes, it was them. But I can’t tell you who those other two are,” was the reply. “It would mean death to me if I squealed. But I’m through. Do what you like with me, only don’t let those fellows get hold of me. I’m done for if you do.”
“How do you know but what you aren’t done for now?” asked Ned grimly. “We’ve got you fast, and your confession is enough to send you to jail. Kidnapping is a serious crime, you know.”
“I don’t mind going to jail,” whimpered Kenny. “That would be better than being killed—never knowing when the blow was going to fall. If I’m in jail they can’t get me. And they’ll try to, for they’ll soon know I didn’t carry out my end of the bargain.”
“Well, you’re going to jail all right!” declared Tom. “It may be the best and safest place for you, and I surely will feel better when you’re behind bars. But what’s the game, anyhow? Why should Schlump and those two masked men want to do me harm?”
“I can’t tell you,” Kenny faltered. “I have betrayed them enough as it is, and I’m not going to say any more. I give up—that’s enough for you—and I warn you to look out. Now all I want is protection from them. Have me locked up; I deserve it.”
This Tom and Ned had decided at once to do. But they were still suspicious over Kenny’s sudden breakdown after his capture. That might be a plot to throw them off the track, to enable the other plotters to get in their work. Tom resolved to be on his guard.
Koku and some of the others in the plane car had come out on hearing voices, and in a few words the young inventor explained what had happened.
“I keep him,” said Koku significantly, as he took hold of Kenny.
“Don’t let him kill me!” pleaded the prisoner.
“He won’t hurt you—that is, if you don’t try to get away,” said Tom grimly.
“I’m not going to. I’m through, I tell you. Why, if I had wanted to I could have blown you to pieces half an hour ago. Go over there and look!” he exclaimed, pointing to a spot near some empty boxes and cases, that had contained materials used in preparing the landing field.
“Take a look, Ned,” suggested Tom, handing his chum the flashlight.
In a few minutes Ned came back bearing an object, at the sight of which some of the workmen cried:
“It’s a bomb! Look out!”
“The firing apparatus has been taken out—here it is,” said Kenny, and he took something from his pocket. “It can’t go off the way it is,” he added.
A quick inspection on the part of Tom proved the truth of this. A bomb had been concealed in the rubbish, and, had it gone off, it very likely would have wrecked theOsprey, and, possibly, have injured or killed those in the car.
“But I couldn’t do it,” confessed Kenny. “I had it all ready to plant and was going to set the time fuse when I weakened.”
“Why did you do that?” asked Tom, still suspicious.
“To tell you the truth, it was because I couldn’t bear to wreck such a fine machine as you have made,” Kenny admitted, and there was a bit of pride in his voice and look. “I’m a good mechanic,” he went on. “You found that out in the shop before I was discharged, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, you were an expert in your line,” admitted Tom.
“Well, I got in bad company—maybe that’s how you can account for it,” proceeded Kenny. “I’m not defending myself—but I got in wrong and bad. You did right to fire me—but then I wanted my revenge. I was in the crowd that saw you come down to-day,” he told Tom. “The gang sent me on here to finish the job which they couldn’t do in Shopton because you were too well guarded. They figured it would be easier here, and it was. I didn’t have much trouble hiding that bomb.
“But when I saw you come sailing in and knew you had almost done the journey as you said you’d do it—in sixteen hours—I just didn’t have the heart to destroy the machine. It would be like a man running his pet auto into a stone wall deliberately. I didn’t have the heart. You needn’t believe me, but that’s the truth.”
“I do believe you—in that, at least,” Tom said. Being a mechanic himself he could understand another workman’s love for a wonderful piece of machinery. “But that doesn’t let you out, Kenny,” said Tom sternly.
“I know it doesn’t, Mr. Swift. I’m not asking to be let off. I’m better in jail as it is. I don’t want those fellows to get me, for they’ll know I double-crossed ’em. Lock me up—that’s all I ask. I’m down and out!”
He really seemed so, and was as honest as he could be under the circumstances. Strange as it may appear, his love for machinery in the abstract, his delight in a perfect piece of work, had overcome his promise to his confederates. Tom believed this much of his story.
The police were notified and Kenny was taken to jail, on the technical charge, in lieu of another, of unlawfully possessing explosives. For the time fuse found on him contained a charge heavy enough in itself to have done considerable damage.
“Well, that’s one out of the way,” commented Tom to Ned after Kenny had been taken off.
“Yes. But there are three left, according to his talk, and maybe more,” said the manager. “What are you going to do about them?”
“I’m going to carry on—fly back to New York Tuesday,” was the answer. “But at the same time I’ll be on the watch. It is hardly possible that any more of the gang are out here. They depended on Kenny, and he double-crossed them, to our advantage. And they won’t have time to start anything at Denver or Chicago—they can’t get there in time. They’ll know, of course, by watching the papers, that nothing happened to us here. They can argue either that Kenny failed or threw them down—it doesn’t matter which they decide on. But their next move will be made at the Long Island field—if they move at all.”
And, thinking it over, Ned came to the same conclusion.
Accordingly preparations were made for the return trip of theOspreyto Denver where theEaglewould pick up the car and carry it to Chicago.
There were enthusiastic scenes as Tom hopped off early Tuesday morning, when it was hardly daylight. He had sent a message the night before to Mary and his father, telling them of the start.
Tom’s trip back to the East was even more successful than his trip out, and he made better flying time by the hour, for no storm was encountered. The same wild scenes of greeting when he landed in Denver and Chicago were witnessed again, and word of his progress was flashed by wireless and telegraph as he passed over city after city on his way home.
In due time he reached the landing field in Long Island and received a roaring welcome. The first round trip had been made successfully, and but five more remained to be made before the rich Mr. Jacks would put in enough money to insure the financial success of the new enterprise. And once it became known that Jacks had invested others would do the same, Tom reasoned.
So it was with a feeling of pride and satisfaction that Tom went back to Shopton to tell his father and Mary all the details. He decided to let a week elapse before trying another journey, as there were some mechanical changes he wanted to make in the car.
Then came the second round trip, the time being cut down a little, but not enough to satisfy Tom.
On the third one he was so long delayed by a storm that his time was a half hour more than on his first trip west. However, he was still within the daylight stipulation, and Mr. Jacks announced himself satisfied thus far.
“Three more round trips, and I’ll come in on a big scale,” said the old millionaire. “It begins to look feasible, Tom Swift.”
“It is feasible, Mr. Jacks,” was the answer. “You’ll see!”
However, the millionaire came very near not “seeing,” for the night before the sixth round trip was to start something ominous happened out at the Long Island hangar.
Tom and his friends had gone to a hotel there, to be in readiness for an early morning start. The young inventor had inspected the machinery and found everything in perfect order. Koku and Eradicate had been left on guard, their differences for a time being patched up. Each one was proud of his part in the night’s work.
It was shortly after midnight when Eradicate, carefully marching around his end of the plane, thought he detected a movement in the bushes. The old man’s eyesight was none of the best, much as he disliked to admit this, but he decided he would do better to summon Koku, which he did.
“Maybe dere’s somebody ober dere, big man,” whispered Eradicate, pointing.
The giant was like a cat—he could see in the dark. For a moment he bent his gaze on the bush indicated by the colored man. Then with a roar of anger the big fellow rushed forward, jumped into the shrubbery and came out, dragging after him a struggling man.
“Let me go! Let me go!” cried this individual. He tried to get something out of his pocket, but Koku held his hand until other watchmen came with lights, and then it was seen that the prisoner was Schlump. An ugly sight he was, too, his face inflamed with rage. Koku pulled his hand from the pocket and found that Schlump was clutching a deadly bomb with a time fuse which shortly would have set it off. But some of the mechanics soon rendered the infernal machine harmless, and Schlump was taken before Tom.
“So, we’ve caught you, have we?” asked the young inventor.
“So it seems!” Schlump snarled. “But you’d better try to save yourself! The others are still after you! I’m not the only one! And you haven’t got me yet—not quite!”
With an unexpected and quick motion he broke away from Koku and ran off in the darkness.
CHAPTER XXIVTROUBLES AND WORRIES
Instantly the scene just outside the hangar where the plane and the car were kept was in confusion. So quickly had Schlump given his captor the slip that, for a moment, every one was stunned. Even Tom Swift, accustomed as he was to emergencies, did not know what to do. But this hesitation was only momentary.
“Get him!” shouted the young inventor. “We’ve got to get him! Scatter and round him up!”
“Turn on the searchlight!” yelled Ned.
“By golly!” chuckled Eradicate, who had seen the man get away from the giant, “dat big man ain’t so smart whut he t’ink he am.”
“Never mind that now, Rad!” ordered Tom, a bit sternly. “Forget your fights with Koku and see if you can find this fellow! We want to question him and see if we can’t get on the trail of the masked men and others who are trying to queer my plans!”
“Yes, sah,” humbly answered the colored man. “I’ll cotch him!”
But this was more easily said than done. Though the big searchlight was flashed on, its beams crossing and recrossing the field about the hangar like a giant’s finger, the plotter was not picked up. The chances were greatly in his favor, running off in the darkness as he had, and after an hour’s search it became evident that he was not to be caught.
“Come back,” Tom advised his friends and the workmen. “We’ll have to let him go,” he added, as they made their way back to their temporary headquarters. “We got the bomb away from him, and we’ll take care that he doesn’t approach near enough the remainder of the night to plant another. We’ll have to organize a patrol, Ned.”
“I guess that’s right,” assented the financial manager. “We can’t take any chances.”
Reluctantly Koku gave up the search, for he felt it was his fault that Schlump had escaped.
“Nex’ time I sot on him!” declared the giant.
“He’ll be like a pancake when you get up,” chuckled Ned.
The rest of the night every precaution was taken to prevent any damage being done to the plane or the car. Men walked about the hangar in relays, and the slightest suspicious object or movement was at once investigated. Nothing happened, and when the first glimmer of dawn appeared, Tom made ready to hop off on what he hoped would be the last trip before he would fulfil the conditions of Jason Jacks.
“Those fellows must know that everything depends on my completion of the six round trips, Ned,” said the young inventor as he took his place in the car, while Meldrum and Dodge went to the cockpit of the aeroplane. “They think if they can put me out of business I won’t get the money to complete the patent work and establish the line as a practical concern.”
“I suppose so,” agreed Ned. “But how do you think they know that?”
“Oh, there has been a lot of talk over the financing of this thing. You know that,” remarked Tom. “It isn’t extraordinary that some of these plotters would get to hear about it. I wish we could have held on to Schlump, though.”
“So do I! He might have given information that would help us catch those other two—the ones you say wore masks. I wonder who they could be?”
“I have an idea,” said Tom. “I’ll tell you later if my suspicions are correct. But now we’ve got to get busy. I’m going to try to break the time record this trip. If I do it will please the old millionaire. Then, when we come back from San Francisco—if we do—and make it somewhere near the sixteen hours, he’ll put in the rest of the cash.”
“And believe me, we’ll need it!” exclaimed Ned, in such fervent tones that Tom asked:
“Why, is our bank balance low?”
“Well, it isn’t anything to boast of,” Ned answered. “You know we had to dip into it pretty heavily to finance this thing—not only in building the planes but in securing the landing fields and paying the men who look after them.”
“Yes, it has taken a bit of money,” admitted Tom. “But then, after we are successful, and I’m sure we shall be, we’ll get it all back, and more, too.”
“Yes,” agreed Ned. “Well, let’s go!”
He followed Ned and the others into the main compartment of the car which had been clamped to the aeroplane in readiness for the start. Though Ned did not tell Tom, the finances of the Swifts were in a very precarious state just then. Of course the firm owned much property and many valuable patents, but the Swift Construction Company had drawn largely on its credit, borrowing from the banks, and to raise more cash meant the stretching of the credit to a danger point. By selling some of their holdings, cash could have been raised, certainly; but no business man likes to sacrifice any of his principle, and Ned was a good business man.
In order to keep the airline going, Ned had been forced to use some of his own money which he had saved, though he did not tell Tom this for fear it would worry him. And then, when it was found that more cash was needed, Ned had spoken of the matter to Mary Nestor, having already gotten all Mr. Damon could spare.
“Take all I have!” exclaimed the girl. “I’m glad to invest it in anything Tom has to do with.”
“No, we won’t take it all,” Ned had replied. He knew she had quite a large sum that she had inherited from her grandmother, and it was in her own name. “But if you could lend a few thousands and not worry if it was lost for a time, we could use it nicely.”
“Take it!” generously offered Mary. “But what do you mean about being lost for a time?”
“I mean that even if this airline express project fails in the present instance,” replied Ned, “that Tom will eventually succeed with it and pay off his debts.”
“Of course he will!” said Mary proudly.
“And even if this is a complete failure,” went on Ned, “and we must, as a business proposition, take that into consideration, Tom will start something else that will pay big and he’ll get back all he loses on this. So it isn’t as if I were asking you to throw your money away.”
“Take all I have!” exclaimed Mary impulsively.
But Ned was content with a comparatively small sum. And it was on this money and some of his own, together with what remained from the original sale of stock, that the last two trips were financed. If they failed—well, Ned did not like to think of that.
So in blissful ignorance of the sword of failure that was hanging over his head, suspended, as it were, on a thin thread of dollar bills, Tom prepared to make this last trip.
It was hardly daylight when they hopped off, careful watch being kept by the men at the hangar lest, in the last moment, Schlump might slip up and toss a bomb that would kill, injure, and destroy. But nothing untoward happened, and soon the plane and its accompanying car was speeding away over the New Jersey meadows while behind the travelers the east grew lighter and lighter as the sun slowly mounted in the heavens.
Aside from the anxiety of all on board to make the best time possible on this trip, nothing unusual occurred during the first lap. Tom had to stop a quarrel between Eradicate and Koku, for the colored man could not refrain from taunting the giant over letting Schlump get away. So infuriated did the big man become under the taunts of Eradicate that he might have done the latter an injury had not Tom sternly forbidden all further mention of the incident.
Chicago was reached safely, almost half an hour ahead of the schedule, which fact, when Tom ascertained it, made him exclaim:
“Fine! If we can keep that up we’ll do better than sixteen hours to the coast. We’re going to push the motors for all they’re capable of from now on.”
“Better not strain ’em too much, sir,” suggested Sam Stone, who was to pilot theEaglepart of the way on the second lap. “We don’t want to break anything.”
“No,” said Tom, “we don’t want to break anything but records. How has everything been here? Any signs of those rascals?”
“Well, there have been one or two suspicious fellows loitering around the hangar,” reported the mechanician. “But we warned them away. They didn’t blow us up, at any rate.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Tom. “They tried it on Long Island,” and he related the Schlump incident. “He’ll probably wire his confederates out here or in Denver or San Francisco to muss us up if they can—anything to prevent this last trip from succeeding. So we must redouble our precautions.”
“We’ll do that,” agreed Stone.
TheEagleat first did even better than theFalcon, and it seemed as if the hop between Chicago and Denver would be a record-breaker. But slight trouble developed about halfway across the plains, and though it was remedied, still they were forty minutes late, which not only ate up the half hour they had gained on the first lap, but cut ten minutes from the remaining time.
“But we’ll make it up on the last lap!” declared Tom, with confidence. “Push her for all she’s got in her, boys!” he said to Dolan and Wright, who climbed into the cockpit at Denver.
They got off to a roaring start, rose high in the air, and then headed straight for the Golden Gate.
“I sure will be glad when the last trip is over,” remarked Mr. Damon, who sat in the car near Tom and Ned.
“Why, are you getting tired of it?” asked the young inventor.
“No. But my wife doesn’t speak to me, and she says she won’t as long as I take these crazy air trips. But I said I’d come on the last trip with you, Tom, and I’m going to stick!”
“Well, I hope you don’t drop out now,” grimly joked Ned, as he looked from an observation window to the earth, several thousand feet below.
“Bless my feather bed, I should hope not!” cried the odd man.
Tom kept note of the distance traveled and the time used, and as several hours passed and the figures grew a pleased smile came over his face.
“It begins to look as if we’d make up all we lost and more too, Ned!” he cried to his chum.
The whistle of the tube communicating from the car to the cockpit sent out a shrill summons.
“Hello! What is it?” called Tom.
“You’d better come up here, Mr. Swift,” answered the voice of Art Wright. “Dolan seems to be knocked out and the motor is behaving very queerly. I’m afraid it’s going to die on us!”
CHAPTER XXVA GLORIOUS FINISH
“Stand by, Ned!” ordered Tom, in a low voice. “Get ready to follow me up above,” and the young inventor made ready to ascend the enclosed ladder to the cockpit overhead.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ned.
“I don’t know; but it looks like dirty work. I’m afraid they’ve got us, after all!”
“How could they?”
Tom did not stop to answer, but quickly ascended the ladder. Ned, in a few words, told the others the alarming news that had come down from the cockpit, and then stood ready to carry out Tom’s orders.
The young inventor, crowding into the narrow space of the after cockpit, found Wright managing the machinery, for the planes had a dual control system. In the forward cockpit Ted Dolan was slumped down in a heap.
“What’s the matter?” cried Tom, when he reached Dolan’s side.
“I don’t know,” the mechanician answered weakly. “It’s something I ate—or else I’ve been doped. My stomach seems caved in and I can’t see. I’ll have to quit, Mr. Swift—sorry——”
“Don’t worry about that!” exclaimed Tom. “Ned and I can finish the trip—if the engine’s all right.”
“But that’s just the trouble,” went on Dolan, in a weak voice. “She isn’t acting properly.”
“Seems to be some obstruction in the oil feed line,” said Wright.
“Use the other,” Tom promptly advised.
“They’re both feeding slowly,” was the answer. “If the oil stops, we stop too!” Tom well knew that.
“You get down to the cabin, Dolan,” advised the young inventor. “Mr. Damon will look after you—he’s a traveling medicine chest. But have you been eating or drinking with strangers?”
“Nothing like that, Mr. Swift—no, sir! I only ate meals I was sure of, and at the hangar too. I never drank anything but water—not even sodas, for I know they can knock you out in hot weather. I think somebody got in the hangar and doped my food.”
“It’s possible,” admitted Tom. “How about you?” he asked the assistant.
“I’m all right—I can stick.”
“Well, we may need you later. You go down now with Dolan and look after him, and send Mr. Newton up here.”
Having given these orders, Tom began looking over the machinery. He was engaged in this when Ned came up to help, reporting that Mr. Damon was looking after the ill mechanician.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ned.
“Oil feed supply,” was the short answer. “You run the plane, Ned, and I’ll take the pipe down and clean it. We can run on one line while I’m working on the other.”
It was a few minutes later, when Tom had the pipe uncoupled, that he uttered an exclamation of anger and surprise.
“What is it?” cried Ned.
Tom held out a piece of cork. It had been stuffed into the pipe in such a way that for a time enough oil would pass to keep the motors running, but the cork would gradually swell and eventually would completely clog the pipe, shutting off all oil.
Without oil an engine will soon heat up, until, because of friction, the bearings, slide rods, pistons and cylinder walls may become red-hot. When that occurs the engine naturally stops. And when the engine of an aeroplane stops the plane falls. It is not like a dirigible that can sustain itself.
“Dirty work!” bitterly murmured Tom, as he worked with all possible speed to replace the pipe, for the secondary oil supply was fast failing. The plane was losing speed rapidly.
“Somebody must have got in, put some sort of dope in Dolan’s food or water, and also clogged the pipes,” said Ned.
“Right!” snapped out Tom. “But we aren’t beaten yet!”
And they were not. By hard work the young inventor got the other oil line cleaned, and then theOspreyat once picked up speed. However, much valuable time had been lost, and Tom was anxious lest the motors might have been permanently damaged by running without sufficient oil.
But they must carry on now, at all hazards, for they were within striking distance of their goal. They at last settled down into the San Francisco landing field after dark—a poor record, nearly twenty hours having been consumed since starting.
“Lucky I’m not on a strict time limit for these six trips,” commented Tom as, tired and exhausted from work and worry, he climbed out of the cockpit, followed by Ned. “Jacks didn’t stipulate that we must keep to the sixteen-hour schedule for these six trips. His only condition was that we must fly continually from coast to coast, with landings only at Chicago and Denver, and we’ve done that.”
“Through good luck and management,” commented Ned. “But we’ve got to be mighty careful, Tom, on the last trip back. They’ll be out to do us if they can and spoil our chances of getting that hundred thousand dollars from Jacks.”
“You said it! Well, we’ll do the best we can.”
Extraordinary precautions were taken about the hangar that night. Men continually patrolled the place, and even newspaper reporters and photographers were looked upon with suspicion. None but those with unquestionable credentials were allowed within the enclosure.
Tom had intended starting back to New York about three days after his arrival, but the accident to the oil line decided him to have the cylinders reground and new pistons put in.
“We want to make the last lap a record,” he said.
The delay was nerve-racking but it could not be helped. Tom was in communication with his father and Mary, and they, too, were eager for his success. All was well at home, Mary reported, and close guard was being kept on the Long Island hangar.
“They may try to blow us up when we make our last landing,” said Tom grimly, to his manager.
“They’re equal to it,” was Ned’s answer. “What about Chicago and Denver?”
“I’m wiring the men there to be on the watch.”
At last the overhauling of theOsprey’smotor was finished, and after a test preparations for the trip back were made. Word that this was to be the final test of the airline express had been broadcast, and the papers all over the country were on the alert for news. It was almost like a presidential election.
In the half-light of a cold dawn Tom and his friends took the air from the San Francisco field. As they mounted upward Ned happened to glance at a calendar hanging on the wall of the car.
“Did you know that, Tom?” he asked.
“Know what?”
“That this is Friday the thirteenth?”
“Well, what of it?” asked the inventor.
“Don’t you believe in luck?”
“Yes, when it’s with me!” Tom said, with a chuckle. “Not otherwise. I saw a black cat as we were taking off, and I guess that will neutralize Friday the thirteenth. Don’t worry!”
There seemed to be no cause for worry on the first leg of the final trip. They got off very well, and under the care of Dolan, who had recovered from his indisposition, theOspreywinged her way across the mountains like the bird whose name she bore.
They were well ahead of their schedule when they landed in Denver, and luck was with them on the second lap, when Stone and his helper, with occasional relief from Tom and Ned, piloted theEagleon its eastern journey.
“Well, Tom, old scout, it looks as if we were going to come through with flying colors!” cried Ned, as preparations to land in Chicago were being made.
“I hope so,” was the answer.
There was a quick change of the car from theEagleto theFalconat the Chicago field, and Tom was about to give the signal to take off when a man with a reflex camera came dashing across the field. There had been a score of newspaper pictures taken, as well as many feet of movies, and Tom and Ned thought this man was a late-comer.
“Just a moment, Mr. Swift—please!” he cried, as he ran forward, his head almost inside the camera.
Tom was used to this plea from the hard-working newspaper picture-takers, and though he was anxious to be off he delayed a moment. He knew it might mean the discharge of a man if he came back without a picture he had been ordered to get.
A reflex camera, as those interested in photography know, is one with a focal plane shutter, exceedingly rapid in action. It is much used in news photography. The operator raises a hood, which serves the same purpose as the black focusing cloth in the photograph gallery. To get sharp pictures it is necessary to focus up to the last moment. In the reflex camera the operator can see the image of the picture he is about to take on a ground glass. When the focal plane shutter is released this ground glass automatically drops out of the way.
Something in the actions of this man aroused the suspicions of Tom. He looked at him keenly for a moment as the fellow ran forward, his head almost inside his camera. Then, with a cry, Tom leaped out of the window of the car, and, like a football tackler, threw himself on the man. He knocked the fellow down, grabbed the camera and threw it as far as he could in a direction where there were no spectators.
“Look out!” yelled Tom. “It’s a bomb!”
So it proved, for when the “camera” landed there was a sharp report and a puff of smoke, followed by a shower of dirt.
“I’ve got you, Schlump!” yelled the young inventor. Tom twisted the fellow’s hands up on his own back as he rolled him over on his face and sat on the scoundrel.
Schlump it proved to be. He had hoped to get close enough not to be recognized by holding his face down in the fake camera. And he almost succeeded, adopting the guise of a newspaper photographer. The camera was but an empty black box with a fake lens. Inside Schlump held a bomb with a slight charge of powder in it. He dared not use much for he, himself, would be close when he hurled it.
But Tom had sensed the danger in time, and by his prompt action had saved himself and his friends from injury, if not death, and had saved the plane from damage.
“Hold him! I’ll prefer charges against him after I reach New York!” cried Tom, as police officers hurried up and took the plotter in charge.
“You’ll never get to New York!” boasted the prisoner.
But Tom did not let this threat worry him. Making a hurried explanation to the police captain in charge of the squad of officers, Tom saw the prisoner led away and then he took his place again.
“A narrow squeak, that,” commented Ned.
“Just a little,” admitted Tom, with a smile. “And now for the last lap.”
TheFalconroared her way into the air amid the cheers of the throng, and the final stage of the journey was begun. At first it was feared lest some hidden defect might develop in the motor. But none did, the machinery working perfectly.
“They didn’t get a chance this time,” Tom decided. “And from the fact that Schlump tried so desperately at the last minute to disable us with a bomb, shows, I think, that they have fired their last shot.”
But there was danger still in store for the daring aviator and his friends. They had made exceptionally good time from Chicago and were approaching the Long Island field. Tom was jubilant, for the record showed the best time yet made.
“There’s the field!” cried Ned, from the after cockpit where he was helping manage the plane. Tom had decided, as was his right, to pilot the last stage of the journey himself.
“You’re right!” admitted the young inventor as he gave a glance downward. “And there’s a big crowd on hand to welcome us.”
As they swung around into the wind, a puff of smoke was seen to arise from the hangar.
“Look at that!” cried Ned.
“Fire!” exclaimed Tom. “They may be trying to burn the place!”
Lower and lower the machine dropped, and those aboard could see the men in charge of the hangar making frantic signals for them not to drop too close to the big building. Tom heeded this advice, and swung down well away from the increasing volume of smoke. TheFalconcame to a stop, and the young inventor and Ned climbed out of the cockpit.
“What’s going on?” cried Ned to some of the workmen.
“Two masked men set the place on fire,” was the answer. “But we’ve caught them, and the fire will soon be out. We were afraid you would come too close.”
“Whew!” whistled Tom. “They’re keeping up the fight until the last minute. So you caught the masked men, did you? Good! I’ll have a look at them in a moment. But what’s our time, Ned? We’ve completed our schedule and fulfilled our contract, but I’d like to know what actual running time we made this last trip in.”
Ned did some rapid figuring. Then he uttered a cry of delight.
“What is it?” asked Tom.
“Fifteen hours and forty-six minutes!” was the answer. “The best time ever made! You’ve broken all records, Tom!”
“I’m glad of it,” was the modest reply.
“And so am I!” cried a voice, and Mary pressed her way through the milling throng to—well, what she did to Tom is none of your business nor mine, is it?
“Well, young man, you did what you said you would,” came in the rasping voice of Jason Jacks. “Any time you want that hundred thousand dollars, or two hundred thousand, just let me know. I didn’t believe much in this thing when you started, but you have proved that you can run an airline express between New York and San Francisco. There’s a big future in it, I believe!”
“So do I,” said Tom quietly. “And now I’d like to see who those masked men are.”
When the men were brought before the young inventor and stripped of black face-coverings, they proved to be none other than Renwick Fawn and the man who variously called himself Blodgett and Barsky—the men who had endeavored to steal Tom’s Chest of Secrets.
“I thought so!” said the young inventor. “So it was you who were back of this, with Kenny and Schlump. Well, we have both of them and now we have you.”
“But I thought these two were in jail,” said Ned wonderingly.
“They either escaped or bribed their way to a parole,” returned Tom. “But they’ll go back now.”
And back went Fawn and Barsky to the prison from which, by means of political influence, they had been paroled. They had wanted revenge and had also tried, by corrupting Kenny and Schlump, to steal the airline express patents. But their plans had been frustrated.
“Did you really suspect, Tom, that the two masked plotters were Fawn and Barsky?” asked Ned.
“Not at first,” was the answer. “Fawn has gotten over that queer trick of throwing out his elbow that surely would have given him away, and both men disguised their voices when they talked. They wanted to escape recognition, for they knew they might be sent back to jail on the old charges. Well, they’ll do double time now—on the old charge, and for trying to kidnap me, as well as setting fire to the hangar.”
“They played a desperate game,” commented Ned. “To think of digging that tunnel and going to all that work to get your patents.”
“They didn’t dig the tunnel,” Tom answered. “It’s a natural one. They just made an entrance to it near our fence—that much of the digging alone was new. The rest was natural. I may find a use for that same tunnel, too. It’s a good thing to know about. And now, Ned, I’m going to take a little vacation.”
“You deserve it!” answered the manager.
Thus the last of Tom’s enemies were caught and sent away. Mr. Jacks was as good as his word, and not only invested largely in the new enterprise himself, but got his friends to do so, so that the money Ned and Mary had put in to bolster the sinking fortunes at the last minute was fully repaid them.
“I’d never have let you risk your savings, Ned, or you either, Mary, if I had known it,” said Tom, when the story was told him. “Suppose I had failed?”
“Oh, I knew you wouldn’t fail!” answered Ned.
“So did I,” whispered Mary.
And that’s that!
THE END
TRANSCRIBER NOTES
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in punctuation have been maintained.