The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Well, what you going to do?” asked the farmer at last. “I can’t stay here all day. I’ve got work to do. I can’t go around smashing barns. I want three thousand dollars, or I’ll hold your contraption for security.”

  This last he announced with more conviction after he had had a talk with one of the men in the automobile. And it was this consultation that confirmed Tom and Ned in their belief that the whole thing was a plot, growing out of Tom’s rather reckless destruction of the barn; a plot on the part of Blakeson and his gang. That they had so speedily taken advantage of this situation carelessly given them was only another evidence of how closely they were on Tom’s trail.

  “That man who ran out of the barn must have been the same one who was in the factory,” whispered Ned to his chum. “He probably saw us coming this way and ran on ahead to have the farmer all primed in readiness. Maybe he knew you had planned to ram the barn.”

  “Maybe he did. I’ve had it in mind for some time, and spoken to some of my men about it.”

  “More traitors in camp, then, I’m afraid, Tom. We’ll have to do some more detective work. But let’s get this thing settled. He only wants to hold your tank, and that will give the man, into whose hands he’s playing, a chance to inspect her.”

  “I believe you. But if I have to leave her here I’ll leave some men on guard inside. It won’t be any worse than being stalled in No Man’s Land. In fact, it won’t be so bad. But I’ll do that rather than be gouged.”

  “No, Tom, you won’t. If you did leave some one on guard, there’d be too much chance of their getting the best of him. You must take your tank away with you.”

  “But how can I? I can’t put up three thousand dollars in cash, and he says he won’t take a check for fear I’ll stop payment. I see his game, but I don’t see how to block it.”

  “But I do!” cried Ned.

  “What!” exclaimed Tom. “You don’t mean to say, even if you do work in a bank, that you’ve got three thousand in cash concealed about your person, do you?”

  “Pretty nearly, Tom, or what is just as good. I have that amount in Liberty Bonds. I was going to deliver them to a customer who has ordered them but not paid for them. They are charged up against me at the bank, but I’m good for that, I guess. Now I’ll loan you these bonds, and you can give them to this cranky old farmer as security for damages. Mind, don’t make them as a payment. They’re simply security—the same as when an autoist leaves his car as bail. Only we don’t want to leave our car, we’d rather have it with us,” and he looked over at the tank, bristling with splinters from the demolished barn.

  “Well, I guess that’s the only way out,” said Tom. “Lucky you had those bonds with you. I’ll take them, and give you a receipt for them. In fact, I’ll buy them from you and let the farmer hold them as security.”

  And this, eventually, was done. After much hemming and hawing and consultation with the men in the automobile, Mr. Kanker said he would accept the bonds. It was made clear that they were not in payment of any damages, though Tom admitted he was liable for some, but that Uncle Sam’s war securities were only a sort of bail, given to indicate that, some time later, when a jury had passed on the matter, the young inventor would pay Mr. Kanker whatever sum was agreed upon as just.

  “And now,” said Tom, as politely as he could under the circumstances, “I suppose we will be allowed to depart.”

  “Yes, take your old shebang offen my property!” ordered Mr. Kanker, with no very good grace. “And if you go knocking down any more barns, I’ll double the price on you!”

  “I guess he’s a bit roiled because he couldn’t hold the tank,” observed Ned to Tom, as they walked together to the big machine. “His friends—our enemies—evidently hoped that was what could be done. They want to get at some of the secrets.”

  “I suppose so,” conceded Tom. “Well, we’re out of that, and I’ve proved all I want to.”

  “But I haven’t—quite,” said Ned.

  “What’s missing?” asked his chum, as they got back in the tank.

  “Well, I’d like to make sure that the fellow who ran from the factory was the same one I saw sneaking out of the barn. I believe he was, and I believe that Simpson’s crowd engineered this whole thing.”

  “I believe so, too,” Tom agreed. “The next thing is to prove it. But that will keep until later. The main thing is we’ve got our tank, and now I’m going to get her ready for France.”

  “Will she be in shape to ship soon?” asked Ned.

  “Yes, if nothing more happens. I’ve got a few little changes and adjustments to make, and then she’ll be ready for the last test—one of long distance endurance mainly. After that, apart she comes to go to the front, and we’ll begin making ’em in quantities here and on the other side.”

  “Good!” cried Ned. “Down with the Huns!”

  Without further incident of moment they went back to the headquarters of the tank, and soon the great machine was safe in the shop where she had been made.

  The next two weeks were busy ones for Tom, and in them he put the finishing touches on his machine, gave it a long test over fields and through woods, until finally he announced:

  “She’s as complete as I can make her! She’s ready for France!”

  CHAPTER XIX

  TOM IS MISSING

  With Tom Swift’s announcement, that his tank was at last ready for real action, came the end of the long nights and days given over on the part of his father, himself, and his men to the development and refinement of the machine, to getting plans and specifications ready so that the tanks could be made quickly and in large numbers in this country and abroad and to the actual building of Tank A. Now all this was done at last, and the first completed tank was ready to be shipped.

  Meanwhile the matter of the demolished barn had been left for legal action. Tom and Ned, it developed, had done the proper thing under the circumstances, and they were sure they had foiled at least one plan of the plotters.

  “But they won’t stop there,” declared Ned, who had constituted himself a sort of detective. “They’re lying back and waiting for another chance, Tom.”

  “Well, they won’t get it at my tank!” declared the young inventor, with a smile. “I’ve finished testing her on the road. All I need do now is to run her around this place if I have to; and there won’t be much need of that before she’s taken apart for shipment. Did you get any trace of Simpson or the men who are with him—Blakeson and the others?”

  “No,” Ned answered. “I’ve been nosing around about that farmer, Kanker, but I can’t get anything out of him. For all that, I’m sure he was egged on to his hold-up game by some of your enemies. Everything points that way.”

  “I think you’re right,” agreed Tom. “Well, we won’t bother any more about him. When the trial comes on, I’ll pay what the jury says is right. It’ll be worth it, for I proved that Tank A can eat up brick, stone or wooden buildings and not get indigestion. That’s what I set out to do. So don’t worry any more about it, Ned.”

  “I’m not worrying, but I’d like to get the best of those fellows. The idea of asking three thousand dollars for a shell of a barn!”

  “Never mind,” replied Tom. “We’ll come out all right.”

  Now that the Liberty Loan drive had somewhat slackened, Ned had more leisure time, and he spent parts of his days and not a few of his evenings at Tom Swift’s. Mr. Damon was also a frequent visitor, and he never tired of viewing the tank. Every chance he got, when they tested the big machine in the large field, so well fenced in, the eccentric man was on hand, with his “bless my—!” whatever happened to come most readily to his mind.

  Tom, now that his invention was well-nigh perfected, was not so worried about not having the tank seen, even at close range, and the enclosure was not so strictly guarded.

  This in a measure was disappointing to Eradicate, who liked the importance of strutting about with a nickel shield pinned to his coat, to show that he was a membe
r of the Swift & Company plant. As for the giant Koku, he really cared little what he did, so long as he pleased Tom, for whom he had an affection that never changed. Koku would as soon sit under a shady tree doing nothing as watch for spies or traitors, of whose identity he was never sure.

  So it came that there was not so strict a guard about the place, and Tom and Ned had more time to themselves. Not that the young inventor was not busy, for the details of shipping Tank A to France came to him, as did also the arrangements for making others in this country and planning for the manufacture abroad.

  It was one evening, after a particularly hard day’s work, when Tom had been making a test in turning the tank in a small space in the enclosed yard, that the two young men were sitting in the machine shop, discussing various matters.

  The telephone bell rang, and Ned, being nearest, answered.

  “It’s for you, Tom,” he said, and there was a smile on the face of the young bank clerk.

  “Um!” murmured Tom, and he smiled also.

  Ned could not repress more smiles as Tom took up the conversation over the wire, and it did not take long for the chum of the youthful inventor to verify his guess that Mary Nestor was at the other end of the instrument.

  “Yes, yes,” Tom was heard to say. “Why, of course, I’ll be glad to come over. Yes, he’s here. What? Bring him along? I will if he’ll come. Oh, tell him Helen is there! ’Nough said! He’ll come, all right!”

  And Tom, without troubling to consult his friend, hung up the receiver.

  “What’s that you’re committing me to?” asked Ned.

  “Oh, Mary wants us to come over and spend the evening. Helen Sever is there, and they say we can take them downtown if we like.”

  “I guess we like,” laughed Ned. “Come along! We’ve had enough of musty old problems,” for he had been helping Tom in some calculations regarding strength of materials and the weight-bearing power of triangularly constructed girders as compared to the arched variety.

  “Yes, I guess it will do us good to get out,” and the two friends were soon on their way.

  “What’s this?” asked Mary, with a laugh, as Tom held out a package tied with pink string. “More dynamite?” she added, referring to an incident which had once greatly perturbed the excitable Mr. Nestor.

  “If she doesn’t want it, perhaps Helen will take it,” suggested Ned, with a twinkle in his eyes. “Halloran said they were just in fresh—”

  “Oh, you delightful boy!” cried Helen. “I’m just dying for some chocolates! Let me open them, Mary, if you’re afraid of dynamite.”

  “The only powder in them,” said Tom, “is the powdered sugar. That can’t blow you up.”

  And then the young people made merry, Tom, for the time being, forgetting all about his tank.

  It was rather late when the two young men strolled back toward the Swift home, Ned walking that way with his chum. Tom started out in the direction of the building where the tank was housed.

  “Going to have a good-night look at her?” asked Ned.

  “Well, I want to make sure the watchman is on guard. We’ll begin taking her apart in a few days, and I don’t want anything to happen between now and then.”

  They walked on toward the big structure, and, as they approached from the side, they were both startled to see a dark shadow—at least so it seemed to the youths—dart away from one of the windows.

  “Look!” gasped Ned.

  “Hello, there!” cried Tom sharply. “Who’s that? Who are you?”

  There was no answer, and then the fleeing shadow was merged in the other blackness of the night.

  “Maybe it was the watchman making his rounds,” suggested Ned.

  “No,” answered Tom, as he broke into a run. “If it was, he’d have answered. There’s something wrong here!”

  But he could find nothing when he reached the window from which he and Ned had seen the shadow dart. An examination by means of a pocket electric light betrayed nothing wrong with the sash, and if there were footprints beneath the casement they indicated nothing, for that side of the factory was one frequently used by the workmen.

  Tom went into the building, and, for a time, could not find the watchman. When he did come upon the man, he found him rubbing his eyes sleepily, and acting as though he had just awakened from a nap.

  “This isn’t any way to be on duty!” said Tom sharply. “You’re not paid for sleeping!”

  “I know it, Mr. Swift,” was the apologetic answer. “I don’t know what’s come over me tonight. I never felt so sleepy in all my life. I had my usual sleep this afternoon, too, and I’ve drunk strong coffee to keep awake.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t drink anything else?”

  “You know I’m a strict temperance man.”

  “I know you are,” said Tom; “but I thought maybe you might have a cold, or something like that.”

  “No, I haven’t taken a thing. I did have a drink of soda water before I came on duty, but that’s all.”

  “Where’d you get it?” asked Tom.

  “Well, a man treated me.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know his name. He met me on the street and asked me how to get to Plowden’s hardware store. I showed him—walked part of the way, in fact—and when I left he said he was going to have some soda, and asked me to have some. I did, and it tasted good.”

  “Well, don’t go to sleep again,” suggested Tom good-naturedly. “Did you hear anything at the side window a while ago?”

  “Not a thing, Mr. Swift. I’ll be all right now. I’ll take a turn outside in the air.”

  “All right,” assented the young inventor.

  Then, as he turned to go into the house and was bidding Ned good-night, Tom said:

  “I don’t like this.”

  “What?” asked his chum.

  “My sleepy watchman and the figure at the window. I more than half suspect that one of Blakeson’s tools followed Kent for the purpose of buying him soda, only I think they might have put a drop or two of chloral in it before he got it. That would make him sleep.”

  “What are you going to do, Tom?”

  “Put another man on guard. If they think they can get into the factory at night, and steal my plans, or get ideas from my tank, I’ll fool ’em. I’ll have another man on guard.”

  This Tom did, also telling Koku to sleep in the place, to be ready if called. But there was no disturbance that night, and the next day the work of completing the tank went on with a rush.

  It was a day or so after this, and Tom had fixed on it as the time for taking the big machine apart for shipment, that Ned received a telephone message at the bank from Mr. Damon.

  “Is Tom Swift over with you?” inquired the eccentric man.

  “No. Why?” Ned answered.

  “Well, I’m at his shop, and he isn’t here. His father says he received a message from you a little while ago, saying to come over in a hurry, and he went. Says you told him to meet you out at that farmer Kanker’s place. I thought maybe—”

  “At Kanker’s place!” cried Ned. “Say, something’s wrong, Mr. Damon! Isn’t Tom there?”

  “No; I’m at his home, and he’s been gone for some time. His father supposed he was with you. I thought I would telephone to make sure.”

  “Whew!” whistled Ned. “There’s something doing here, all right, and something wrong! I’ll be right over!” he added, as he hung up the receiver.

  CHAPTER XX

  THE SEARCH

  “Haven’t you seen anything of him?” asked Mr. Damon, as Ned jumped out of his small runabout at the Swift home as soon as possible after receiving the telephone message that seemed to presage something wrong.

  “Seen him? No, certainly not!” answered the young bank clerk. “I’m as much surprised as you are over it. What happened, anyhow?”

  “Bless my memorandum pad, but I hardly know!” answered the eccentric man. “I arrived here a little while ago, stopping in merely to pay To
m a visit, as I often do, and he wasn’t here. His father was anxiously waiting for him, too, wishing to consult him about some shop matters. Mr. Swift said Tom had gone out with you, or over to your house—I wasn’t quite sure which at first—and was expected back any minute.

  “Then I called you up,” went on Mr. Damon, “and I was surprised to learn you hadn’t seen Tom. There must be something wrong, I think.”

  “I’m sure of it!” exclaimed Ned. “Let’s find Mr. Swift. And what’s this about his going to meet me over at the place of that farmer, Mr. Kanker, where we had the trouble about the barn Tom demolished?”

  “I hardly know, myself. Perhaps Mr. Swift can tell us.”

  But Mr. Swift was able to throw but little light on Tom’s disappearance—whether a natural or forced disappearance remained to be seen.

  “No matter where he is, we’ll get him,” declared Ned. “He hasn’t been away a great while, and it may turn out that his absence is perfectly natural.”

  “And if it’s due to the plots of any of his rivals,” said Mr. Damon, “I’ll denounce them all as traitors, bless my insurance policy, if I don’t! And that’s what they are! They’re playing into the hands of the enemy!”

  “All right,” said Ned. “But the thing to do now is to get Tom. Perhaps Mrs. Baggert can help us.”

  It developed that the housekeeper was of more assistance in giving information than was Mr. Swift.

  “It was several hours ago,” she said, “that the telephone rang and some one asked for Tom. The operator shifted the call to the phone out in the tank shop where he was, and Tom began to talk. The operator, as Tom had instructed her, listened in, as Tom wants always a witness to most matters that go on over his wires of late.”

  “What did she hear?” asked Ned eagerly.

  “She heard what she thought was your voice, I believe,” the housekeeper said.

  “Me!” cried the young bank clerk. “I haven’t talked to Tom today, over the phone or any other way. But what next?”