The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Maybe,” assented Tom, who was occupied just then in making a good landing. “I am interested in airships, but I never thought I could build one.”

  “Easiest thing in the world,” went on Mr. Sharp, as if it was an everyday matter. “You and I will get busy as soon as we clear up this robbery.” He talked as though he had been a friend of the family for some time, for he had a genial, taking manner.

  A little later Mr. Swift was excitedly questioning Garret Jackson concerning the robbery and making an examination of the electrical shop to discover what was missing.

  “They’ve taken some parts of my gyroscope!” he exclaimed, “and some valuable tools and papers, as well as some unfinished work that will be difficult to replace.”

  “Much of a loss?” asked Mr. Sharp with a business-like air.

  “Well, not so large as regards money,” answered the inventor, “but they took things I can never replace, and I will miss them very much if I cannot get them back.”

  “Then we’ll get them back!” snapped the balloonist, as if that was all there was to it.

  The police were called up on the telephone and the facts given to them, as well as a description of the stolen things. They promised to do what they could, but, in the light of past experiences, Tom and his father did not think this would be much. There was little more that could be done that evening. Ned Newton went to his home, and, after Mr. Swift had insisted in calling in his physician to look after Mr. Sharp’s burns the balloonist was given a room next to Tom’s. Then the Swift household settled down.

  “Well,” remarked Tom to his father, as he got ready for bed, “this sure has been an exciting day.”

  “And my loss is a serious one,” added the inventor somewhat sadly.

  “Don’t worry, dad,” begged his son. “I’ll do my best to recover those things for you.”

  Several days passed, but there was no clue to the thieves. That they were the same ones who had stolen the turbine model there was little doubt, but they seemed to have covered their tracks well. The police were at a loss, and, though Tom and Mr. Sharp cruised about the lake, they could get no trace of the men. The balloonist had sent to Pratonia for his clothing and other baggage and was now installed in the Swift home, where he was invited to stay a week or two.

  One night when he was looking over some papers he had taken from his trunk the balloonist came over to where Tom was making a drawing of a new machine he was planning and said:

  “Like to see my idea for an airship? Different from some. It’s a dirigible balloon with an aeroplane front and rear to steer and balance it in big winds. It would be a winner, only for one thing. Maybe you can help me.”

  “Maybe I can,” agreed Tom, who was at once interested.

  “We ought to be able to do something. Look at our names—Swift and Sharp—quick and penetrating—a good firm to build airships,” and he laughed genially. “Shall we do it?”

  “I’m willing,” agreed Tom, and the balloonist spread his plans out on the table, he and the young inventor soon being deep in a discussion of them.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  THE MYSTERY SOLVED

  From then on, for several days, the young inventor and his new friend lived in an atmosphere of airships. They talked them from morning until night, and even Mr. Swift, much as he was exercised over his loss, took part in the discussions.

  In the meanwhile efforts had not ceased to locate the robbers and recover the stolen goods, but so far without success.

  One afternoon, about two weeks after the thrilling rescue of John Sharp, Tom said to the balloonist:

  “Wouldn’t you like to come for a ride in the motor-boat? Maybe it will help us to solve the puzzle of the airship. We’ll take a trip across and up the opposite shore.”

  “Good idea,” commented Mr. Sharp. “Fine day for a sail. Come on. Blow the cobwebs from our brains.”

  Mr. Swift declined an invitation to accompany them, as he said he would stay home and try to straighten out his affairs, which were somewhat muddled by the robbery.

  Out over the blue waters of Lake Carlopa shot the Arrow. It was making only moderate speed, as Tom was in no hurry, and he knew his engine would last longer if not forced too frequently. They glided along, crossed the lake and were proceeding up the opposite shore when, as they turned out from a little bay and rounded a point of land, Mr. Sharp exclaimed:

  “Look out, Tom, there’s rowboat just ahead!”

  “Oh, I’ll pass well to one side of that,” answered the young inventor, looking at the craft. As he did so, noting that there were four men in it, one of the occupants caught a glimpse of the Arrow. No sooner had he done so than he spoke to his companions, and they all turned to stare at Tom. At first the lad could scarcely believe his eyes, but as he looked more intently he uttered a cry.

  “There they are!”

  “Who?” inquired Mr. Sharp.

  “Those men—the thieves! We must catch them!”

  Tom had spoken loudly, but even though the men in the rowboat did hear what he said, they would have realized without that that they were about to be pursued, for there was no mistaking the attitude of our hero.

  Two of the thieves were at the oars, and, with one accord, they at once increased their speed. The boat swung about sharply and was headed for the shore, which they seemed to have come from only a short time previous, as the craft was not far out in the lake.

  “No, you don’t!” cried Tom. “I see your game! You want to get to the woods, where you’ll have a better chance to escape! If this isn’t great luck, coming upon them this way!”

  It was the work of but a moment to speed up the engine and head the Arrow for the rowboat. The men were pulling frantically, but they had no chance.

  “Get between them and the shore!” cried Mr. Sharp. “You can head them off then.” This was good advice and Tom followed it. The men, among whom the lad could recognize Happy Harry and Anson Morse, were all excited. Two of them stood up, as though to jump overboard, but their companions called to them to stop.

  “If we only had a gun now, not to shoot at them but to intimidate them,” murmured the balloonist, “maybe they’d stop.”

  “Here’s one,” answered Tom, pointing to the seat locker, where he kept the shotgun Mr. Duncan had given him. In a moment Mr. Sharp had it out.

  “Surrender!” he cried, pointing the weapon at the men in the small boat.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t fire on us! We’ll give up!” cried Happy Harry, and the two with the oars ceased pulling.

  “Don’t take any chances,” urged Mr. Sharp in a low voice. “Keep between them and the shore. I’ll cover them.” Tom was steering from an auxiliary side wheel near the motor, and soon the Arrow had cut off the retreat of the men. They could not land and to row across the lake meant speedy capture.

  “Well, what do you want of us?” growled Morse. “What right have you got to interfere with us in this fashion?”

  “The best of right,” answered Tom. “You’ll find out when you’re landed in jail.”

  “You can’t arrest us,” sneered Happy Harry. “You’re not an officer and you haven’t any warrant.”

  Tom hadn’t thought of that, and his chagrin showed in his face. Happy Harry was quick to see it.

  “You’d better let us go,” he threatened “We can have you arrested for bothering us. You haven’t any right to stop us, Tom Swift.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t, but I have!” exclaimed John Sharp suddenly.

  “You! Who are you?” demanded Featherton, alias Simpson, the man who had run the automobile that carried Tom away.

  “Me. I’m a special deputy sheriff for this county,” answered the balloonist simply. “Here’s my badge,” and, throwing back his coat, he displayed it. “You see I got the appointment in order to have some authority in the crowds that gather to watch me go up,” he explained to Tom, who plainly showed his astonishment. “I found it very useful to be able to threaten arrest, but in this case I’l
l do more than threaten. You are my prisoners,” he went on to the men in the boat, and he handled the shotgun as if he knew how to use it. “I’ll take you into custody on complaint of Mr. Swift for robbery. Now will you go quietly or are you going to make a fuss?” and Mr. Sharp shut his jaw grimly.

  “Well, seeing as how you have the drop on us, I guess we’ll have to do as you say,” admitted Happy Harry, alias Jim Burke. “But you can’t prove anything against us. We haven’t any of Mr. Swift’s property.”

  “Well, you know where it is then,” retorted Tom quickly.

  Under the restraining influence of the gun the men made no resistance. While Mr. Sharp covered them, Tom towed their boat toward shore. Then, while the young inventor held the gun, the balloonist tied the hands and feet of the thieves in a most scientific manner, for what he did not know about ropes and knots was not worth putting into a book.

  “Now, I guess they’ll stay quiet for a while,” remarked Mr. Sharp as he surveyed the crestfallen criminals. “I’ll remain on guard here, Tom, while you go notify the nearest constable and we’ll take them to jail. We bagged the whole lot as neatly as could be desired.”

  “No, you didn’t get all of us!” exclaimed Happy Harry, and there was a savage anger in his tones.

  “Keep quiet!” urged Morse.

  “No, I’ll not keep quiet! It’s a shame that we have to take our medicine while that trimmer, Tod Boreck, goes free. He ought to have been with us, and he would be, only he’s trying to get away with that sparkler!”

  “Keep quiet,” again urged Morse.

  Tom was all attention. He had caught the word “sparkler,” and he at once associated it with the occasion he had heard the men use it before. He felt that he was on the track of solving the mystery connected with his boat.

  He looked at the men. They were the same four who had been involved in the former theft—Appleson, Featherton, Morse and Burke. Were there five of them? He recalled the man who had been caught tampering with his boat—the man who had tried to bid on the Arrow at the auction. Where was he?

  “Boreck didn’t get what he was after,” resumed Happy Harry, “and I’m going to spoil his game for him. Say, kid,” he went on to Tom, “look in the front part of your boat—where the gasoline tank is.”

  Tom felt his heart beating fast. At last he felt that he would solve the puzzle. He opened the forward compartment. To his disappointment it seemed as usual. Morse and the others were making a vain effort to silence Happy Harry.

  “I don’t see anything here,” said Tom.

  “No, because it’s hidden in one of those blocks of wood you use for a brace,” continued the man. “Which one it is, Boreck didn’t know, so he pulled out two or three, only to be fooled each time. You must have shifted them, kid, from the way they were when we had the boat.”

  “I did,” answered the young inventor, recollecting how he had taken out some of the braces and inserted new ones, then painted the interior of the compartment. “What is in the braces, anyhow?”

  “The sparkler—a big diamond—in a hollow place in the wood, kid!” exclaimed Happy Harry, blurting out the words. “I’m not going to let Tod Boreck get away with it while we stay in jail.”

  “Take out all the braces that haven’t been moved and have a look,” suggested Mr. Sharp. Tom only had to remove two, those farthest back, for all the others had, at one time or another, been changed or taken away by the thief.

  One of the blocks did not seem to have anything unusual about it, but at the sight of the other Tom could not repress a cry. It was the one that seemed to have had a hole bored in it and then plugged up again. He remembered his father noticing it on the occasion of overhauling the boat.

  “The sparkler’s in there,” said the tramp as he saw the brace. “Boreck was after it several times, but he never pulled out the right one.”

  With his knife Tom dug out the putty that covered the round hole in the block. No sooner had he done so than there rolled out into his hand a white object. It was something done up in tissue paper, and as he removed the wrapper, there was a flash in the sunlight and a large, beautiful diamond was revealed. The mystery had been solved.

  CHAPTER XXV

  WINNING A RACE

  “Where did this diamond come from?” demanded Mr. Sharp of the quartette of criminals.

  “That’s for us to know and you to find out,” sneered Happy Harry. “I don’t care as long as that trimmer Boreck didn’t get it. He tried to do us out of our share.”

  “Well, I guess the police will make you tell,” went on the balloonist. “Go for the constable, Tom.”

  Leaving his friend to guard the ugly men, who for a time at least were beyond the possibility of doing harm, Tom hurried off through the woods to the nearest village. There he found an officer and the gang was soon lodged in jail. The diamond was turned over to the authorities, who said they would soon locate the owner.

  Nor were they long in doing it, for it appeared the gem was part of a large jewel robbery that had taken place some time before in a distant city. The Happy Harry gang, as the men came to be called, were implicated in it, though they got only a small share of the plunder. Search was made for Tod Boreck and he was captured about a week after his companions. Seeing that their game was up, the men made a partial confession, telling where Mr. Swift’s goods had been secreted, and the inventor’s valuable tools, papers and machinery were recovered, no damage having been done to them.

  It developed that after the diamond theft, and when the gang still had possession of Mr. Hastings’ boat, Boreck, sometimes called Murdock by his cronies, unknown to them, had secreted the jewel in one of the braces under the gasoline tank. He expected to get it out secretly, but the capture of the gang and the sale of the boat prevented this. Then he tried to buy the craft to take out the diamond, but Tom overbid him. It was Boreck who found Andy’s bunch of keys and used one to open the compartment lock when Tom surprised him. The man did manage to remove some of the blocks, thinking he had the one with the diamond in it, but the fact of Tom changing them, and painting the compartment deceived him. The gang hoped to get some valuables from Mr. Swift’s shops, and, to a certain extent, succeeded after hanging around for several nights and following him to Sandport, but Tom eventually proved too much for them. Even stealing the Arrow, which was taken to aid the gang in robbing Mr. Swift, did not succeed, and Boreck’s plan then to get possession of the diamond fell through.

  It was thought that the gang would get long terms in prison, but one night, during a violent storm, they escaped from the local jail and that was the last seen of them for some time.

  A few days after the capture as Tom was in the boathouse making some minor repairs to the motor he heard a voice calling:

  “Mistah Swift, am yo’ about?”

  “Hello, Rad, is that you?” he inquired, recognizing the voice of the colored owner of the mule Boomerang.

  “Yais, sa, dat’s me. I got a lettah fo’ yo’. I were passin’ de post-office an’ de clerk asted me to brung it to yo’ case as how it’s marked ‘hurry,’ an’ he said he hadn’t seen yo’ today.”

  “That’s right. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to go for the mail,” and Tom took the letter, giving Eradicate ten cents for his trouble.

  “Ha, that’s good!” exclaimed Tom as he read it.

  “Hab some one done gone an’ left yo’ a fortune, Mistah Swift?” asked the negro.

  “No, but it’s almost as good. It’s an invitation to take part in the motor-boat races next week. I’d forgotten all about them. I must get ready.”

  “Good land! Dat’s all de risin’ generation t’inks about now,” observed Eradicate, “racin’ an’ goin’ fast. Mah ole mule Boomerang am good enough fo’ me,” and, shaking his head in a woeful manner, Eradicate went on his way.

  Tom told Mr. Sharp and his father of the proposed races of the Lanton Motor-boat Club, and, as it was required that two persons be in a craft the size of the Arrow, the young i
nventor arranged for the balloonist to accompany him. Our hero spent the next few days in tuning up his motor and in getting the Arrow ready for the contest.

  The races took place on that side of Lake Carlopa near where Mr. Hastings lived, and he was one of the officials of the club. There were several classes, graded according to the horsepower of the motors, and Tom found himself in a class with Andy Foger.

  “Here’s where I beat you,” boasted the red-haired youth exultantly, though his manner toward Tom was more temperate than usual. Andy had learned a lesson.

  “Well, if you can beat me I’ll give you credit for it,” answered Tom.

  The first race was for high-powered craft, and in this Mr. Hastings’ new Carlopa won. Then came the trial of the small boats, and Tom was pleased to note that Miss Nestor was on hand in the tiny Dot.

  “Good luck!” he called to her as he was adjusting his timer, for his turn would come soon. “Remember what I told you about the spark,” for he had given her a few lessons.

  “If I win it will be due to you,” she called brightly.

  She did win, coming in ahead of several confident lads who had better boats. But Miss Nestor handled the Dot to perfection and crossed the line a boat’s length ahead of her nearest competitor.

  “Fine!” cried Tom, and then came the warning gun that told him to get ready for his trial.

  This was a five-mile race and had several entrants. The affair was a handicap one and Tom had no reason to complain of the rating allowed him.

  “Crack!” went the starting pistol and away went Tom and one or two others who had the same allowance as did he. A little later the others started and finally the last class, including Andy Foger. The Red Streak shot ahead and was soon in the lead, for Andy and Sam had learned better how to handle their craft. Tom and Mr. Sharp were worried, but they stuck grimly to the race and when the turning stake was reached Tom’s motor had so warmed up and was running so well that he crept up on Andy. A mile from the final mark Andy and Tom were on even terms, and though the red-haired lad tried to shake off his rival he could not. Andy’s ignition system failed him several times and he changed from batteries to magneto and back again in the hope of getting a little more speed out of the motor.