“He stole this map, and there is plenty of evidence,” went on Tom, as he detailed the circumstances.
Mr. Foger hemmed and hawed, and affected not to believe that anything of the kind could have happened. But Tom was firm, and Abe Abercrombie backed up his statements, until even the banker began to waver.
“Very well,” he announced at length, “I will look into this matter, and if I find that my son has anything of yours, you shall have it back. But I cannot believe it. Perhaps he took it as a joke.”
“In which case,” spoke Tom grimly, “he will find that he has carried the joke too far,” and with that he and the miner left the Foger home.
“It’s all my fault,” bewailed Abe, as he and our hero trudged on toward the Swift household.
“No, it wasn’t, Abe,” declared Tom. “Any one would have been deceived by such tactics as Andy used—that is any stranger. And you didn’t expect to find two airship sheds so close together.”
“No. That’s right, I didn’t. That’s what threw me off th’ track.”
“Andy only recently began work on his triplane. I don’t know what his object is, and I don’t care. Just now I’m more concerned about getting back this map.”
“I hope we do get it.”
“Oh, we will. I’m going to start off on my own hook, to find Andy. But first I’ll take you to my house.”
The old miner was soon telling his story to Mr. Swift, the housekeeper and Garret Jackson. They expressed their surprise at Andy’s daring act. But Tom didn’t do much more talking.
“I’m going out to find Andy,” he declared, “and when I do—” He didn’t finish his sentence, but they all knew what he meant.
But the bully was in none of his usual haunts, though Tom visited them all. Nor was Andy at the homes of either of his cronies.
“Well, if I don’t find him, I shall certainly swear out the warrant,” decided Tom. “I’ll give him until night, and then I’ll call on the police.”
Still he did not give up, but went to several other places where Andy might be found. He had about given up, as it was getting toward late afternoon, when, as he came out of a billiardroom, where the bully was in the habit of spending much of his time, Tom saw the lad of whom he was in search.
“Hold on there, Andy Foger!” cried the young inventor. “I want to see you!”
“What about?”
“You know very well. Where’s that map you stole?”
“I haven’t got it.”
“Take care!” and Tom, with a quick step was beside the bully, and had grasped him firmly by the arm.
“You let me alone, Tom Swift!” cried Andy.
“Where’s that map?” and Tom gave Andy’s arm a wrench.
“It’s at your house; that’s where it is! I just took it back. It was only a joke.”
“A joke, eh? And you took it back?”
“Yes, I did. Now you let me go!”
“I will when I find out if you’re telling me the truth or not, Andy Foger. You come with me!”
“Where?”
“To my house. I want to see if that map’s there.”
“Well, you’ll find that it is, and you’d better let me go! My father told me to take the map back, and I did. You let me go!”
Andy struggled to get loose, but Tom had too tight a grip. There was something, too, in the manner of our hero that warned Andy not to trifle with him. So, concluding that discretion was the better part of valor, Andy walked sullenly along toward Tom’s home, the young inventor never relaxing the grip on his enemy’s arm.
They reached the Swift home. Still holding his captive, Tom rang the bell. His father came to the door, followed by Abe Abercrombie.
“Is the map back?” asked the young inventor, anxiously.
“Yes, Andy brought it here a few minutes ago,” announced Mr. Swift.
“Is it the right one, Abe?” inquired Tom.
“Yep, Tom. I made sure of that as soon as I laid my eyes on it. It’s th’ right one.”
“Then you can go, Andy Foger,” announced our hero, “and if I ever catch you in another trick like this, I’ll take the law into my own hands. Clear out, now!”
“You wait! I’ll get even with you,” muttered the bully, as he fled down the front walk, as though afraid Tom would, even then, put his threat into execution.
“Did he damage the map any?” asked the lad, as he followed his father and Abe into the house.
“Nary a bit,” answered the old miner. “It’s jest th’ same as it was. There it is,” and he spread a crinkled sheet of tough parchment in front of Tom. It was covered with a rude drawing, and with names of places scrawled on it.
“So that’s the map, eh?” murmured Tom, eagerly scanning it.
“That’s it, an’ here’s th’ valley of gold,” went on Abe, as he placed one rough finger on a certain spot. “Right there—hello!” he cried, as he peered more closely at the parchment. “That ink spot wasn’t there when I had th’ map, a few hours ago.”
“What ink spot?” asked Tom, anxiously.
“That one,” and the miner indicated a small one near the edge of the map. “That was never there!”
“It looks as if it was recently made,” added Mr. Swift, who was something of a chemist.
“An ink spot-freshly made,” murmured Tom, “Dad—Abe, I can guess what’s happened!”
“What?” demanded the miner.
“Andy Foger made a copy of this map while it was in his possession, and now he knows where the valley of gold is as well as we do! He may get there ahead of us!”
CHAPTER V
GRAVE SUSPICIONS
Tom’s announcement took them all by surprise. For a moment no one knew what to say, while the young inventor looked more closely at the parchment map.
“Do you really think he has dared to make a copy of it?” asked Mr. Swift.
“I do,” answered his son. “That ink spot wasn’t there when Abe gave him the map; was it?”
“No,” replied the miner.
“And it couldn’t get on in Andy’s pocket,” went on Tom. “So he must have had it open near where there was ink.”
“His fountain pen might have leaked,” suggested Mr. Jackson.
“In that case the ink spot would be on the outside of the map, and not on the inside,” declared Tom, with the instinct of a detective. “Unless he had the map folded in his pocket with the inside surface on the outside, the ink couldn’t have gotten on. Besides, Andy always carries his fountain pen in his upper vest pocket, and that pocket is too small to hold the map. No, I’m almost positive that Andy or his father have sneakingly made a copy of this map!”
“I’m sorry to have to admit that Mr. Foger is capable of such an act,” spoke Mr. Swift, “but I believe it is true.”
“And here is another thing,” went on the young inventor, who was now closely scanning the parchment through a powerful magnifying glass, “do you see those tiny holes here and there, Mr. Jackson?”
“Yes,” answered the engineer.
“Were they there before, Abe?” went on Tom, calling the old miner’s attention to them.
“Nary a one,” was the answer. “It looks as if some one had been sticking pins in th’ map.”
“Not pins,” said Tom, “but the sharp points of a pair of dividers, or compasses, for measuring distances. Andy, or whoever made a copy of the map, used the dividers to take off distances with. This clinches it, in my mind.”
“But what can you do?” asked Tom’s father.
“I don’t know,” answered the young inventor. “It would be of little use to go to Andy. Naturally he would deny having made a copy of the map, and his father would, also. Even though I am sure they have a copy, I don’t see how I am going to make them give it up. It’s a hard case. There’s only one thing I see to do.”
“What’s that?” asked Abe.
“Start for Alaska as soon as possible, and be first on hand at the valley of gold.”
> “Good!” cried the miner. “That’s the way to talk! We’ll start off at once. I know my way around that country pretty well, an’ even though winter is coming on, I think we can travel in th’ airship. That’s one reason why I wanted t’ go in one of these flyin’ machines. Winter is no time to be in Alaska, but if we have an airship we won’t mind it, an’ it’s the best time t’ keep other people away, for th’ ordinary miner or prospector can’t do anythin’ in Alaska in winter—that is away up north where we’re goin’.”
“Exactly where are we going?” asked Tom. “I have been so excited about discovering Andy’s trick that I haven’t had much time to consider where we’re bound for nor what will be the best plan to follow.”
“Well, we’re goin’ to a region about seven hundred an’ fifty miles northwest from Sitka,” explained the old miner, as he pointed out the location on the map. “We’ll head for what they call th’ Snow Mountains, an’ th’ valley of gold is in their midst. It’s just over th’ Arctic circle, an’ pretty cold, let me tell you!”
“You’ll be warm enough in Tom’s airship, with the electric stoves going,” commented Mr. Jackson.
“Well, we’ll need t’ be,” went on the miner. “Th’ valley is full of caves of ice, an’ it’s dangerous for th’ ordinary traveler. In fact an airship was the only way I saw out of th’ difficulty when I was there.”
“Then you have been to the valley of gold?” asked Tom.
“Well, not exactly TO it,” was the reply, “but I was where I could see it. That was in th’ summer, though of course the summer there isn’t like here. I’ll tell you how it was.”
The miner settled himself more comfortably in his chair, and resumed his story.
“It was two year ago,” he said, “that me an’ Jim Mace started to prospect in Alaska. We didn’t have much luck, an’ we kept on workin’ our way farther north until we come to these Snow Mountains. Then our supplies gave out, an’ if it hadn’t been for some friendly Eskimos I don’t know what we would have done. Jim and me we gave ’em some trinkets an’ sich, and th’ Indians began talkin’ of a wonderful valley of gold, where th’ stuff lay around in chunks on top of the ground.”
“Me and Jim pricked up our ears at that, so to speak, an’ we wanted to see th’ place. After some delay we was taken to th’ top of a big crag, some distance away from where we had been stopping with the friendly Eskimos, or Indians, as I call ’em. There, away down below, was a valley—an’ a curious sort of a valley it were. It seemed filled with big bubbles—bubbles made of solid banks of snow or ice, an’ we was told, me an’ Jim was, that these were caves of ice, an’ that th’ gold was near these caves.”
“Well, of course me an’ my partner wanted to go down the worst way, an’ try for some gold, but th’ Indians wouldn’t let us. They said it was dangerous, for th’ ice caves were constantly fallin’ in, an’ smashin’ whoever was inside. But to prove what they said about th’ gold, they sent one of their number down, while we waited on th’ side of th’ mountain.”
“Did he get any gold?” asked Tom, eagerly.
For answer the old miner pulled from his pocket a few yellow pebbles—little stones of dull, gleaming yellow.
“There’s some of th’ gold from amid th’ caves of ice,” he remarked simply. “I kept ’em for a souvenir, hopin’ some day I might git back there. Well, Jim an’ me watched th’ Indian going down into th’ valley. He come back in about three hours, havin’ only gone to th’ nearest cave, an’ he had two pockets filled with these little chunks of solid gold. They gave me an’ Jim some, but they wouldn’t hear of us goin’ t’ th’ valley by ourselves.”
“Then a bad storm come up, an’ we had t’ hit th’ trail for home—the Indians’ home, I mean—for Jim an’ I was far enough away from ours.”
“Well, t’ make a long story short, Jim an’ me tried every way we knowed t’ git t’ that valley, but we couldn’t. It come off colder an’ colder, an’ th’ tribe of Indians with whom we lived was attacked by some of their enemies, an’ driven away from their campin’ grounds. Jim an’ me, we went too, but not before Jim had drawed this map on a piece of dog-skin we found in one of the huts. We had an idea we might get back, some day, an’ find the valley, so we’d need a map t’ go by. But poor Jim never got back. He got badly frozen when the Indians drove us an’ our friends away, an’ he never got over it. He died up there in th’ ice, an’ we buried him. I took th’ map, an’ when spring come, I made a hike out of that country. From then until now I’ve been plannin’ how t’ git t’ that valley, an’ th’ only way I seen was an airship. Then, when I was prospectin’ around out in Colorado I saw Tom’s machine hidden in th’ trees, an’ I waited until he come along, which part you know as well as I do,” finished Abe.
“And that’s the story of the valley of gold,” spoke Mr. Swift.
“That’s all there is to it,” assented Abe, simply.
“Do you think there is much gold there?” asked Tom.
“Plenty of it—for th’ pickin’ up,” replied the miner. “Around th’ caves of ice it’s full of it, but, of course, it’s dangerous. An’ th’ only way t’ git t’ it, an’ pass th’ savage Indians that are all around in th’ mountains about th’ valley, is t’ fly over their heads in th’ airship.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” decided Tom.
“Will you go all the way in the Red Cloud?” inquired Mr. Jackson.
“No, I think I’ll send the airship on ahead to some point in Washington—say Seattle,” replied Tom, “put it together there, and start for the Snow Mountains. In Seattle we can get plenty of supplies and stores. It will be a good point to start from, and will save us a long, and perhaps dangerous, flight across the United States.”
“I think that will be the best plan,” agreed Mr. Swift. “But what about Andy—do you think he’ll try to follow—or try to get ahead of you now that he has a copy of the map?”
“He may,” answered Tom. “But I have a little trick I’m going to work on Andy. I will try to learn whether he really has a copy of the map, though I’m practically certain of it. Then I’ll decide what’s best to do.”
“In th’ meanwhile, will you be gettin’ ready?” asked Abe. “I’d like t’ start as soon as we can, for it’s awful cold there, the longer you wait, at this time of th’ year.”
“Yes, I’ll start right to work, getting the Red Cloud in readiness to be shipped,” promised Tom.
CHAPTER VI
ANDY’S AIRSHIP FLIES
“Hello, Tom, have you heard the news?” asked Ned Newton, of the young inventor, a few days later.
“What news, Ned? I declare I’ve been so busy thinking out the best plan to ship the Red Cloud to Seattle that I haven’t been over to town. What’s going on? Have they decided to build a new church in Shopton, or something like that?”
“Oh, this about Andy Foger’s airship.”
“Andy’s airship, eh? Is he still working on it?”
“It’s all done, so Sam Snedecker was telling me last night, and today Andy is going to try to fly it.”
“You don’t mean it!”
“Sure thing. Let’s go over and watch him.”
“He might make a fuss, same as he did when we looked in the window of his shed.”
“He can’t make any fuss now. He’s got to take his machine out to fly it, and anybody that wants to can look on. Didn’t he watch you make flights often enough?”
“That’s so. Where is the trial flight going to take place?”
“In the big meadow. Come on over.”
“Guess I will. I can’t do much more now. I’ve been getting some boxes and crates made in which to pack the Red Cloud. I’ll have to take her all apart.”
“Then you’re really going to hunt for the valley of gold?”
“Sure thing. How about you going, Ned? I spoke to dad about it, and he said he’d see that you could have a leave of absence.”
“Yes, that part’s all right.
The bank president told me today I could take a vacation any time I wanted it. In fact that’s what I came over to see you about. I want to thank your father.”
“Then you’re going?”
“I sure am, Tom! Won’t it be great! I hope I can get a little gold for myself! My folks didn’t take very much to the notion of me going off in an airship, but I told them how often you’d gone on trips, and come safely back, so they finally gave their consent. When are you going to start?”
“Oh, in about two weeks. Did I tell you about Andy and the map?”
“No. What trick has he been up to now?”
Thereupon Tom related his suspicions concerning the bully, and also hinted to Ned of a certain ruse he intended to work on Andy when he got the chance.
“Well, if you’re ready, suppose we go over and see if Andy’s airship will really fly,” suggested Ned, after a while. “I’m doubtful myself, and I’d just like to see him come to grief, after the many mean things he’s done to you.”
“Well,” spoke Tom slowly, “I don’t know as I wish him any bad luck, but I certainly hope he doesn’t use his airship to try to beat us out in the hunt for the valley of gold.”
“Do you think he might?”
“It’s possible. But never mind about that now. Come on, we’ll go over to the big meadow.”
The two chums walked along together, talking of many things. Tom told of some communication he had had with Mr. Damon, in which letters the eccentric man had inquired as to when the trip for Alaska would be undertaken.
“Then he’s going?” asked Ned.
“Oh, yes, it wouldn’t seem natural to go without some of Mr. Damon’s blessings. But I think he’s going to bring a friend with him.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Ralph Parker.”
“That gloomy scientist, who is always predicting such terrible things going to happen?”
“That’s the gentleman. You met him once, I believe Mr. Damon says Mr. Parker wants to do some scientific studying in the far north, so I’ve already counted on him as one of our party. Well, perhaps he won’t do so much predicting this trip.”
A little later Tom and Ned came to a big open field. They saw quite a crowd gathered in it, but no sign of an airship.
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 92