But our hero was not yet free from the bonds of his enemies. When they scattered and ran, after the vivid blue light, and the dull explosion, which, being unconfined, did no real damage, Tom was still fast to the tree. As his eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness that followed the glare, he remarked:
“Well, I don’t know that I’m much better off. I gave those fellows a good scare, but I’m not loose. But I can work to better advantage now.”
Once more he resumed the effort to free himself, but in spite of the crude manner in which the knots had been made, the lad could not get loose. The more he pulled and tugged the tighter they seemed to become.
“This is getting serious,” Tom mused. “If I could only reach my knife I could cut them, but it’s in my pocket on the other side, and that bond’s fast. Guess I’ll have to stay here all night. Maybe I’d better call for help, but—”
His words, spoken half aloud, were suddenly interrupted by a crash in the underbrush. Somebody was approaching. At first Tom thought it was Andy and his cronies coming back, but a voice that called a moment later proved that this was not so.
“Is any one here?” shouted a man. “Any one hurt? What was that fire and explosion?”
“I’m here,” replied Tom. “I’m not hurt exactly, but I’m tied to a tree. I’ll be much obliged if you’ll loosen me.”
“Who are you?”
“Tom Swift. Is that you, Mr. Mason?”
“Yes. By jinks! I never expected to find you here, Tom. Over this way, men,” he added calling aloud. “I’ve found him; it’s Tom Swift.”
There was the flicker of several lanterns amid the trees, and soon a number of men had joined Mr. Mason, and surrounded Tom. They were farmers living in the neighborhood.
“What in the name o’ Tunket happened?” asked one. “Did you get hit by a meteor or a comet? Who tied you up; highwaymen?”
“Cut him loose first, and ask questions afterward,” suggested Mr. Mason.
“Yes,” added Tom, with a laugh, “I wish you would. I’m beginning to feel cramped.”
With their knives, the farmers quickly cut the ropes, and some of them rubbed the arms of the lad to restore the circulation.
“What was it—highwaymen?” asked a man, unable to longer restrain his curiosity. “Did they rob you?”
“No, it wasn’t highwaymen,” replied the youth. “It was a trick of some boys I know,” and to Tom’s credit be it said that he did not mention their names. “They did it for a joke,” he added.
“Boys’ trick? Joke?” queried Mr. Mason. “Pretty queer sort of a joke, I think. They ought to be arrested.”
“Oh, I fancy I gave them what was coming to them,” went on the young inventor.
“Did they try to blow ye up, too?” asked Mr. Hertford. “What in th’ name of Tunket was that blue light, and that explosion? I heard it an’ saw it way over to my house.”
“So did I,” remarked Mr. Mason, and several others said the same thing. “We thought a meteor had fallen,” he continued, “and we got together to make an investigation.”
“It’s a good thing for me you did,” admitted Tom, “or I might have had to stay here all night.”
“But was it a meteor?” insisted Mr. Hertford.
“No,” replied the lad, “I did it.”
“You?”
“Yes. You see after they tied me I found I could get one hand free. I reached in my pocket for my knife, but instead of it I managed to get hold of a package of powder I had.”
“Gunpowder?” asked Mr. Mason.
“No, a chemical powder I use in an electrical battery. The powder explodes in fire, and makes quite a blue flash, and a lot of smoke, but it isn’t very dangerous, otherwise I wouldn’t have used it. When the boys were some distance away from the fire, I threw the powder in the blaze. It went off in a moment, and—”
“I guess they run some; didn’t they?” asked Mr. Mason with a laugh.
“They certainly did,” agreed Tom.
CHAPTER X
TOM HAS A FALL
The young inventor told more details of his adventure in the woods, but, though the farmers questioned him closely, he would not give a single name of his assailants.
“But I should think you’d want to have them punished,” remarked Mr. Mason.
“I’ll attend to that part later,” answered Tom. “Besides, most of them didn’t know what they were doing. They were led on by one or two. No, I’ll fight my own battles. But I wish you’d lend me a lantern long enough to find my motor-cycle. The moon doesn’t give much light in the woods, and those fellows may have hidden my machine.”
Mr. Mason and his companions readily agreed to accompany Tom on a search for his wheel. It was found just where he had dismounted from it in the road. Andy and his cronies had evidently had enough of their encounter with our hero, and did not dare to annoy him further.
“Do you think you can ride home?” asked one of the farmers of the lad, when he had ascertained that his machine was in running order.
“Well, it’s risky without my lantern,” answered Tom. “They smashed that for me. But I guess I can manage.”
“No, you can’t!” insisted Mr. Mason. “You’re stiff from being tied up; and you can’t ride. Now you just wheel that contraption over to my place, and I’ll hitch up and take you home. It isn’t far.”
“Oh, I couldn’t think of troubling you,” declared Tom. At the same time he felt that he was in no condition to ride.
“It’s no trouble at all,” insisted Mr. Mason. “I guess your father and I are good enough friends to allow me to have my way. You can come over and get your choo-choo bicycle in the morning.”
A little later Tom was being rapidly driven toward his home, where he found his father and Mrs. Baggert, to say nothing of Mr. Sharp, somewhat alarmed over his absence, as it was getting late. The youth told as much of his adventure as he thought would not alarm his father, making a sort of joke of it, and, later, related all the details to the balloonist.
“We’ll have to get after Andy again,” declared the aeronaut. “He needs another toning down.”
“Yes, similar to the one he got when we nearly ran away with his automobile, by catching the airship anchor on it,” added Tom with a laugh. “But I fancy Andy will steer clear of me for a while. I’m sorry I had to use up that chemical powder, though. Now I can’t start my battery until tomorrow.” But the next day Tom made up for lost time, by working from early until late. He went over to Mr. Mason’s, got his motor-cycle, procured some more of the chemical, and soon had his storage battery in running order. Then he arranged for a more severe test, and while that was going on he worked at completing the body of the electric runabout. The vehicle was beginning to look like a car, though it was not of the regulation pattern.
For the next week Tom was very busy, so occupied, in fact, that he scarcely took time for his meals, which caused Mrs. Baggert no little worriment, for she was a housekeeper who liked to see others enjoy her cooking.
“Well, Tom, how are you coming on?” asked his father one night, as they sat on the porch, Mr. Sharp with them.
“Pretty well, Dad,” was the answer of the young inventor. “I’ll put the wheels on tomorrow, and then set the batteries. I’ve got the motor all finished; and all I’ll have to do will be to connect it up, and then I’ll be ready for a trial on the road.”
“And you still think you’ll beat all records?”
“I’m pretty sure of it, Dad. You see the amperage will be exceptionally high, and my batteries will have a large amount of reserve, with little internal resistance. But do you know I’m so tired I can hardly think. It’s more of a job than I thought it would be.”
Tom, a little later, strolled down the road. As he turned back toward the house and walked up the shrubbery lined path he heard a noise.
“Some one’s hiding in there!” thought the lad, and he darted to an opening in the hedge to reach the other side. As he did so he saw a figure running away. Whether
it was a man or a boy he could not tell in the darkness.
“Hold on there!” cried the young inventor, but, naturally, the fleeing one did not stop. Tom began to sprint, and as it was slightly down hill, he made good time. The figure ahead of him was running well, too, but Tom who could see better, now that he was out from under the trees, noticed that he was gaining. The fleeing one came to a little brook, and hesitated a moment before leaping across. This enabled Tom to catch up, and he made a grab for the figure, just as the man or boy sprang across the little stream.
Tom missed his grip, but he was not going to give up. He scarcely slackened his speed, but, with the momentum he had acquired in racing down the hill, he, too, leaped across the brook. As he landed on the other side he made another grab for the figure, a man, as Tom could now see, but he could make out no features, as the person’s hat was pulled down over his face.
“I’ve got you now!” cried Tom exultantly, reaching out his hand. His fingers clutched something, but the next instant the young inventor went sprawling. The other had put out his foot, and tripped him neatly and, Tom throwing out his hands to save himself in the fall that was inevitable, went splashing into the brook at full length. The unknown, pausing a moment to view what he had done, turned quickly and raced off in the darkness.
CHAPTER XI
CROSSED WIRES
More surprised than hurt, and with a feeling of chagrin and anger at the trick which had been played on him, Tom managed to scramble out of the brook. The water was not deep, but he had splashed in with such force that he was wet all over. And, as he got up, the water dripping from his clothes, the lad was conscious of a pain in his head. He put up his hand, and found that contact with a stone had raised a large lump on his forehead. It was as big as a hen’s egg.
“Humph! I’ll be a pretty sight tomorrow,” murmured Tom. “I wonder who that fellow was, anyhow, and what he wanted? He tripped me neatly enough, whoever he was. I’ve a good notion to keep on after him.”
Then, as he realized what a start the fleeing one had, the young inventor knew that it would be fruitless to renew the chase. Slowly he ascended the sloping bank, and started for home. As he did so he realized that he had, clasped in his fingers, something he had grabbed from the person he was pursuing just before his unlucky tumble.
“It’s part of his watch chain!” exclaimed Tom, as he felt of the article. “I must have ripped it loose when I fell. Wonder what it is? Evidently some sort of a charm. Maybe it will be a clue.” He tried to discern of what style it was, but in the dark woods this was impossible. Then the lad tried to strike a match, but those in his pocket had become wet from his unexpected bath. “I’ll have to wait until I get home,” he went on, and he hastened his steps, for he was anxious to see what he had torn loose from the person who appeared to be spying on him.
“Why Tom, what’s the matter?” exclaimed Mrs. Baggert, when he entered the kitchen, dripping water at every step. “Is it raining outside? I didn’t hear any storm.”
“It was raining where I was,” replied Tom angrily. “I fell in the brook. It was so hot I thought I’d cool off.”
“With your best suit on!” ejaculated the housekeeper.
“It isn’t my best,” retorted the lad. “But I went in before I thought. It was an accident; I fell,” he added, lest Mrs. Baggert take his joking remarks seriously. He did not want to tell her of the chase.
The chief concern of the lad now was to look at the charm and, as soon as Mrs. Baggert’s attention was attracted elsewhere, Tom glanced at the object he still held tightly clenched in his hand. As the light from the kitchen fell upon it he could hardly repress an exclamation of astonishment.
For the charm that he held in his hand was one he had seen before dangling from the watch chain of Addison Berg, the agent for Bentley & Eagert, submarine boat builders, which firm had, as told in “Tom Swift and His Submarine,” tried unsuccessfully to secure the gold treasure from the sunken wreck. Berg and his associates had even gone so far as to try to disable the Advance, the boat of Tom and his father, by ramming her when deep down under the ocean, but Mr. Swift’s use of an electric cannon had broken the steering gear of the Wonder, the rival craft, and from that time on Tom and his friends had a clear field to search for the bullion held fast in the hold of the Boldero. “Addison Berg,” murmured Tom, as he looked at the watch charm. “What can he be doing in this neighborhood? Hiding, too, as if he wanted to overhear something. That’s the way he did when we were building our submarine, and now he’s up to the same trick when I’m constructing my electric car. I’m sure this charm is his. It is such a peculiar design that I’m positive I can’t be mistaken. I thought, when I was chasing after him, that it would turn out to be Andy Foger, or some of the boys, but it was too big for them. Addison Berg, eh? What can he be doing around here? I must not tell Dad, or he’d worry himself sick. But I must be on my guard.”
Tom examined the charm closely. It was a compass, but made in an odd form, and was much ornamented.
The young inventor had noticed it on several occasions when he had been in conversation with Mr. Berg previous to the attempt on the part of the owners of the rival submarine to wreck Tom’s boat. He felt that he could not be mistaken in identifying the charm.
“Berg was afraid I’d catch him, and ask for an explanation that would have been awkward to make,” thought the lad, as he turned the charm over in his hand. “That’s why he tripped me up. But I’ll get at the bottom of this yet. Maybe he wants to steal my ideas for an electric car.”
Tom’s musings were suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Baggert.
“I hope you’re not going to stand there all night,” she said, with a laugh. “You’re in the middle of a puddle now, but when you get over dreaming I’d like to mop it up.”
“All right,” agreed the young inventor, coming to himself suddenly. “Guess I’d better go get some dry clothes on.”
“You’d better go to bed,” advised Mrs. Baggert. “That’s where your father and Mr. Sharp are. It’s late.”
The more Tom thought over the strange occurrence the more it puzzled him. He mused over the presence of Berg as he went about his work the next day, for that it was the agent whom he had pursued he felt positive.
“But I can’t figure out why he was hanging around here,” mused Tom.
Then, as he found that his thoughts over the matter were interfering with his work, he resolutely put them from him, and threw himself energetically into the labor of completing his electric car. The new batteries, he found, were working well, and in the next two days he had constructed several more, joining them so as to get the combined effect.
It was the afternoon of the third day from Tom’s unexpected fall into the brook that the young inventor decided on the first important test of his new device. He was going to try the motor, running it with his storage battery. Some of the connections were already in place, the wires being fastened to the side of the shop, where they were attached to switches. Tom did not go over these, taking it for granted that they were all right. He soon had the motor, which he was to install in his car, wired to the battery, and then he attached a gauge, to ascertain, by comparison, how many miles he could hope to travel on one charging of the storage battery.
“Guess I’ll call Dad and Mr. Sharp in to see how it works, before I turn on the current,” he said to himself. He was about to summon his parent and the aeronaut from an adjoining shop, where they were working over a new form of dynamo, when the lad caught sight of the watch charm he had left on his desk, in plain sight.
“Better put that away,” he remarked. “Dad or Mr. Sharp might see it, and ask questions. Then I’d have to explain, and I don’t want to, not until I get further toward the bottom of this thing.”
He put the charm away, and then summoned his father and the balloonist.
“You’re going to see a fine experiment,” declared Tom. “I’m going to turn on the full strength of my battery.”
“Are y
ou sure it’s all right, Tom?” asked his father. “You can’t be too careful when you’re dealing with electricity of high voltage, and great ampere strength.
“Oh, it’s all right, Dad,” his son assured him “Now watch my motor hum.”
He walked over to a big copper switch, and grasped the black rubber handle to pull it over which would send the current from the storage battery into the combination of wheels and gears that he hoped, ultimately, would propel his electric automobile along the highways, or on a track, at the rate of a hundred miles an hour.
“Here she goes!” cried Tom. For an instant he hesitated and then pulled the switch. At the same time his hand rested on another wire, stretched across a bench.
No sooner had the switch closed than there was a blinding flash, a report as of a gun being fired, and Tom’s body seemed to straighten out. Then a blue flame appeared to encircle him and he dropped to the floor of the shop, an inert mass.
“He’s killed!” cried Mr. Swift, springing forward.
“Careful!” cautioned the balloonist. “He’s been shocked! Don’t touch him until I turn off the current!” As he pulled out the switch, the aeronaut gave a glance at the apparatus.
“There’s something wrong here!” he cried. “The wires have been crossed! That’s what shocked Tom, but he never made the wrong connections! He’s too good an electrician! There’s been some one in this shop, changing the wires!”
CHAPTER XII
THE TRY OUT
Once the current was cut off it was safe to approach the body of the young inventor. Mr Sharp stooped over and lifted Tom’s form from the floor, for Mr. Swift was too excited and trembled too much to be of any service. Our hero was as one dead. His body was limp, after that first rigid stretching out, as the current ran through him; his eyes were closed, and his face was very pale.
“Is—is there any hope?” faltered Mr. Swift.
“I think so,” replied the balloonist. “He is still breathing—faintly. We must summon a doctor at once. Will you telephone for one, while I carry him in the house?”
As Mr. Sharp emerged from the shop, bearing Tom’s body, an automobile drew up in front of the place.
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 57