The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Don’t worry,” advised Tom. “They won’t bother us.”

  And the blacks did not. They were caring for their wounded, who had not already been taken from the field, and they paid no attention to our friends, save to look curiously at the airship.

  “Bless my newspaper!” cried Mr. Damon, with an air of relief. “I’m glad that’s over, and we didn’t have to use the electric rifles, after all.”

  “Here come the Englishmen to pay us a visit,” spoke Ned a little later, as they sat about the cabin of the Flyer. The two rival picture men soon climbed on deck.

  “Beg pardon,” said the taller of the two, addressing our hero, “but could you lend us a roll of film? Ours are all used up, and we want to get some more pictures before going back to our main camp.”

  “I’m sorry,” replied Tom, “but I use a special size, and it fits no camera but my own.”

  “Ah! might we see your camera?” asked the other Englishman. “That is, see how it works?”

  “I don’t like to be disobliging,” was Tom’s answer, “but it is not yet patented and—well—” he hesitated.

  “Oh, I see!” sneered the taller visitor. “You’re afraid we might steal some of your ideas. Hum! Come on Montgomery,” and, swinging on his heels, with a military air, he hurried away, followed by his companion.

  “They don’t like that, but I can’t help it,” remarked Tom to his friends a little later. “I can’t afford to take any chances.”

  “No, you did just right,” said Mr. Nestor. “Those men may be all right, but from the fact that they are in the picture taking business I’d be suspicious of them.”

  “Well, what’s next on the programme?” asked Ned as Tom put his camera away.

  “Oh, I think we’ll stay here over night,” was our hero’s reply. “It’s a nice location, and the gas machine needs cleaning. We can do it here, and maybe I can get some more pictures.”

  They were busy the rest of the day on the gas generator, but the main body of natives did not come back, and the Englishmen seemed to have disappeared.

  Everyone slept soundly that night. So soundly, in fact, that the sun was very high when Koku was the first to awaken, His head felt strangely dizzy, and he wondered at a queer smell in the room he had to himself.

  “Nobody up yet,” he exclaimed in surprise, as he staggered into the main cabin. There, too, was the strange, sweetish, sickly smell. “Mr. Tom, where you be? Time to get up!” the giant called to his master, as he went in, and gently shook the young inventor by the shoulder.

  “Eh? What’s that? What’s the matter?” began Tom, and then he suddenly sat up. “Oh, my head!” he exclaimed, putting his hands to his aching temples.

  “And that queer smell!” added Ned, who was also awake now.

  “Bless my talcum powder!” cried Mr. Damon. “I have a splitting headache.”

  “Hum! Chloroform, if I’m any judge!” called Mr. Nestor from his berth.

  “Chloroform!” cried Tom, staggering to his feet. “I wonder.” He did not finish his sentence, but made his way to the room where his camera was kept. “It’s gone!” he cried. “We have been chloroformed in the night, and some one has taken my Wizard Camera.”

  CHAPTER XX

  AFTER THE ENGLISHMEN

  “The camera gone!” gasped Ned.

  “Did they chloroform us?” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Bless my—” but for one of the few times in his life, he did not know what to bless.

  “Get all the fresh air you can,” hastily advised Mr. Nestor. “Koku, open all the doors and windows,” for, though it was hot during the day in the jungle, the nights were cool, and the airship was generally closed up. With the inrush of the fresh air every one soon felt better.

  “Is anything else gone?” asked Ned, as he followed Tom into the camera room.

  “Yes, several rolls of unexposed films. Oh, if only they haven’t got too much of a start! I’ll get it away from them!” declared Tom with energy.

  “From who? Who took it?” asked Ned.

  “Those Englishmen, of course! Who else? I believe they are in the pay of Turbot and Eckert. Their taking pictures was only a bluff! They got on my trail and stuck to it. The delays we had, gave them a chance to catch up to us. They came over to the airship, to pretend to borrow films, just to get a look at the place, and size it up, so they could chloroform us, and get the camera.”

  “I believe you’re right,” declared Mr. Nestor. “We must get after those scoundrels as quickly as possible!”

  “Bless my shoulder braces!” cried Mr. Damon. “How do you imagine they worked that trick on us?”

  “Easily enough,” was Mr. Nestor’s opinion. “We were all dead tired last night, and slept like tops. They watched their chance, sneaked up, and got in. After that it was no hard matter to chloroform each one of us in turn, and they had the ship to themselves. They looked around, found the camera, and made off with it.”

  “Well, I’m going to get right after them!” cried Tom. “Ned, start the motor. I’ll steer for a while.”

  “Hold on! Wait a minute,” suggested Mr. Nestor. “I wouldn’t go off in the ship just yet, Tom.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t know which way to go. We must find out which trail the Englishmen took. They have African porters with them, and those porters doubtless know some of the blacks around here. We must inquire of the natives which way the porters went, in carrying the goods of our rivals, for those Englishmen would not abandon camp without taking their baggage with them.”

  “That’s so,” admitted the young inventor. “That will be the best plan. Once I find which way they have gone I can easily overtake them in the airship. And when I find ’em—” Tom paused significantly.

  “Me help you fix ’em!” cried Koku, clenching his big fist.

  “They will probably figure it out that you will take after them,” said Mr. Nestor, “but they may not count on you doing it in the Flyer, and so they may not try to hide. It isn’t going to be an easy matter to pick a small party out of the jungle though, Tom.”

  “Well, I’ve done more difficult things in my airships,” spoke our hero. “I’ll fly low, and use the glass. I guess we can pick out their crowd of porters, though they won’t have many. Oh, my camera! I hope they won’t damage it.”

  “They won’t,” was Ned’s opinion. “It’s too valuable. They want it to take pictures with, themselves.”

  “Maybe. I hope they don’t open it, and see how it’s made. And I’m glad I thought to hide the picture films I’ve taken so far. They didn’t get those away from us, only some of the blank ones,” and Tom looked again in a secret closet, where he kept the battle-films, and the others, in the dark, to prevent them from being light-struck, by any possible chance.

  “Well, if we’re going to make some inquiries, let’s do it,” suggested Mr. Nestor. “I think I see some of the Africans over there. They have made a temporary camp, it seems, to attend to some of their wounded.”

  “Do you think we can make them understand what we want?” asked Ned. “I don’t believe they speak English.”

  “Oh these blacks have been trading with white men,” said Tom, “for they have ‘trader’s’ guns, built to look at, and not to shoot very well. I fancy we can make ourselves understood. If not, we can use signs.”

  Leaving Koku and Mr. Damon to guard the airship, Tom, Ned and Mr. Nestor went to the African camp. There was a large party of men there, and they seemed friendly enough. Probably winning the battle the day before had put them in good humor, even though many of them were hurt.

  To Tom’s delight he found one native who could speak a little English, and of him they made inquiries as to what direction the Englishmen had taken. The black talked for a while among his fellows, and then reported to our friends that, late in the night, one of the porters, hired by Montgomery and Kenneth, had come to camp to bid a brother good-bye. This porter had said that his masters were in a hurry to get away, and had
started west.

  “That’s it!” cried Mr. Nestor. “They’re going to get somewhere so they can make their way to the coast. They want to get out of Africa as fast as they can.”

  “And I’m going to get after ’em as fast as I can!” cried Tom grimly. “Come on!”

  They hurried back to the airship, finding Koku and Mr. Damon peacefully engaged in talk, no one having disturbed them.

  “Start the motor, Ned!” called his chum. “We’ll see what luck we have!”

  Up into the air went the Flyer, her great propellers revolving rapidly. Over the jungle she shot, and then, when he found that everything was working well, and that the cleaned gas generator was operating as good as when it was new, the young inventor slowed up, and brought the craft down to a lower level.

  “For we don’t want to run past these fellows, or shoot over their heads in our hurry,” Tom explained. “Ned, get out the binoculars. They’re easier to handle than the telescope. Then go up forward, and keep a sharp lookout. There is something like a jungle trail below us, and it looks to be the only one around here. They probably took that.” Soon after leaving the place where they had camped after the battle, Tom had seen a rude path through the forest, and had followed that lead.

  On sped the Flyer, after the two Englishmen, while Tom thought regretfully of his stolen camera.

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE JUNGLE FIRE

  “Well, Tom, I don’t seem to see anything of them,” remarked Ned that afternoon, as he sat in the bow of the air craft, gazing from time to time through the powerful glasses.

  “No, and I can’t understand it, either,” responded the young inventor, who had come to relieve his chum. “They didn’t have much the start of us, and they’ll have to travel very slowly. It isn’t as if they could hop on a train; and, even if they did, I could overtake them in a short time. But they have to travel on foot through the jungle, and can’t have gone far.”

  “Maybe they have bullock carts,” suggested Mr. Damon.

  “The trail isn’t wide enough for that,” declared Tom. “We’ve come quite a distance now, even if we have been running at low speed, and we haven’t seen even a black man on the trail,” and he motioned to the rude path below them.

  “They may have taken a boat and slipped down that river we crossed a little while ago,” suggested Ned.

  “That’s so!” cried Tom. “Why didn’t I think of it? Say! I’m going to turn back.”

  “Turn back?”

  “Yes, and go up and down the stream a way. We have time, for we can easily run at top speed on the return trip. Then, if we don’t see anything of them on the water, we’ll pick up the trail again. Put her around, Ned, and I’ll take the glasses for a while.”

  The Flyer was soon shooting back over the same trail our friends had covered, and, as Ned set the propellers going at top speed, they were quickly hovering over a broad but shallow river, which cut through the jungle.

  “Try it down stream first,” suggested Tom, who was peering through the binoculars. “They’d be most likely to go down, as it would be easier.”

  Along over the stream swept the airship, covering several miles.

  “There’s a boat!” suddenly exclaimed Mr. Nestor, pointing to a native canoe below them.

  “Bless my paddle wheel! So it is!” cried Mr. Damon. “I believe it’s them, Tom!”

  “No, there are only natives in that craft,” answered the young inventor a moment later, as he brought the binoculars into focus. “I wish it was them, though.”

  A few more miles were covered down stream, and then Tom tried the opposite direction. But all to no purpose. A number of boats were seen, and several rafts, but they had no white men on them.

  “Maybe the Englishmen disguised themselves like natives, Tom,” suggested Ned.

  Our hero shook his head.

  “I could see everything in the boats, through these powerful glasses,” he replied, “and there was nothing like my camera. I’d know that a mile off. No, they didn’t take to this stream, though they probably crossed it. We’ll have to keep on the way we were going. It will soon be night, and we’ll have to camp. Then we’ll take up the search tomorrow.”

  It was just getting dusk, and Tom was looking about for a good place to land in the jungle, when Ned, who was standing in the bow, cried:

  “I say, Tom, here’s a native village just ahead. There’s a good place to stop, and we can stay there over night.”

  “Good!” exclaimed Tom. “And, what’s more, we can make some inquiries as to whether or not the Englishmen have passed here. This is great! Maybe we’ll come out all right, after all! They can’t travel at night—or at least I don’t believe they will—and if they have passed this village we can catch them tomorrow. We’ll go down.”

  They were now over the native town, which was in a natural clearing in the jungle. The natives had by this time caught sight of the big airship over them, and were running about in terror. There was not a man, woman or child in sight when the Flyer came down, for the inhabitants had all fled in fright.

  “Not much of a chance to make inquiries of these folks,” said Mr. Nestor.

  “Oh, they’ll come back,” predicted Tom. “They are naturally curious, and when they see that the thing isn’t going to blow up, they’ll gather around. I’ve seen the same thing happen before.”

  Tom proved a true prophet. In a little while some of the men began straggling back, when they saw our friends walking about the airship, as it rested on the ground. Then came the children, and then the women, until the whole population was gathered about the airship, staring at it wonderingly. Tom made signs of friendship, and was lucky enough to find a native who knew a few French words. Tom was not much of a French scholar, but he could frame a question as to the Englishmen.

  “Oui!” exclaimed the native, when he understood. Then he rattled off something, which Tom, after having it repeated, and making signs to the man to make sure he understood, said meant that the Englishmen had passed through the village that morning.

  “We’re on the right trail!” cried the young inventor. “They’re only a day’s travel ahead of us. We’ll catch them tomorrow, and get my camera back.”

  The natives soon lost all fear of the airship, and some of the chief men even consented to come aboard. Tom gave them a few trifles for presents, and won their friendship to such an extent that a great feast was hastily gotten up in honor of the travelers. Big fires were lighted, and fowls by the score were roasted.

  “Say, I’m glad we struck this place!” exclaimed Ned, as he sat on the ground with the others, eating roast fowl. “This is all to the chicken salad!”

  “Things are coming our way at last,” remarked Tom. “We’ll start the first thing in the morning. I wish I had my camera now. I’d take a picture of this scene. Dad would enjoy it, and so would Mrs. Baggert. Oh, I almost wish I was home again. But if I get my camera I’ve got a lot more work ahead of me.”

  “What kind?” asked Ned.

  “I don’t know. I’m to stop in Paris for the next instructions from Mr. Period. He is keeping in touch with the big happenings of the world, and he may send us to Japan, to get some earthquake pictures.”

  The night was quiet after the feast, and in the morning Tom and his friends sailed off in their airship, leaving behind the wondering and pleased natives, for our hero handed out more presents, of small value to him, but yet such things as the blacks prized highly.

  Once more they were flying over the trail, and they put on more speed now, for they were fairly sure that the men they sought were ahead of them about a day’s travel. This meant perhaps twenty miles, and Tom figured that he could cover fifteen in a hurry, and then go over the remaining five slowly, so as not to miss his quarry.

  “Say, don’t you smell something?” asked Ned a little later, when the airship had been slowed down. “Something like smoke?”

  “Humph! I believe I do get an odor of something burning,” admitted Tom
, sniffing the atmosphere.

  “Bless my pocket book!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, “look down there, boys!” He pointed below, and, to the surprise of the lads, and no less of himself, he saw many animals hurrying back along the jungle trail.

  There were scores of deer, leaping along, here and there a tawny lion, and one or two tigers. Off to one side a rhinoceros crashed his way through the tangle, and occasionally an elephant was seen.

  “That’s queer,” cried Ned. “And they’re not paying any attention to each other, either.”

  “Something is happening,” was Mr. Nestor’s opinion. “Those animals are running away from something.”

  “Maybe it’s an elephant drive,” spoke Tom. “I think—”

  But he did not finish. The smell of smoke suddenly became stronger, and, a moment later, as the airship rose higher, in response to a change in the angle of the deflecting rudder, which Ned shifted, all on board saw a great volume of black smoke rolling toward the sky.

  “A jungle fire!” cried Tom. “The jungle is burning! That’s why the animals are running back this way.”

  “We’d better not go on!” shouted Ned, choking a bit, as the smoke rolled nearer.

  “No, we’ve got to turn back!” decided Tom. “Say, this will stop the Englishmen! They can’t go on. We’ll go back to the village we left, and wait for them. They’re trapped!” And then he added soberly: “I hope my camera doesn’t get burnt up!”

  CHAPTER XXII

  A DANGEROUS COMMISSION

  “Look at that smoke!” yelled Ned, as he sent the airship about in a great circle on the backward trail.

  “And there’s plenty of blaze, too,” added Tom. “See the flames eating away! This stuff is as dry as tinder for there hasn’t been any rain for months.”

  “Much hot!” was the comment of the giant, when he felt the warm wind of the fire.

  “Bless my fountain pen!” gasped Mr. Damon, as he looked down into the jungle. “See all those animals!”

  The trail was now thick with deer, and many small beasts, the names of which Tom did not know. On either side could be heard larger brutes, crashing their way forward to escape the fire behind them.