“Down on Clay Street,” and the officer mentioned the number. “He lives all alone, so he told me. He’s some sort of an inventor, I guess. At least I judged so by his talk. Do you want an ambulance, Doctor?” he asked the physician.
“No, I think he’s coming around all right,” was the answer. “If we had an auto we could send him home.”
“I’ll take him in the runabout,” eagerly offered Tom. “But if he lives all alone will it be safe to leave him in his house?”
“He ought to be looked after, I suppose,” the doctor stated. “He’ll be all right in a day or so if no complications set in, but he’ll be weak for a while and need attention.”
“Then I’ll take him home with me!” announced Tom. “We have plenty of room, and Mrs. Baggert will feel right at home with some one to nurse. Bring the runabout here, will you please, Ned?”
As Ned darted off to run up the machine, the man opened his eyes again. For a moment he did not seem to know where he was or what had happened. Then, as he saw the lurid light of the flames which were now dying away and realized his position, he sighed heavily and murmured:
“It’s all over!”
“Oh, no, it isn’t!” cheerfully exclaimed the doctor. “You will be all right in a few days.”
“Myself, yes, maybe,” said the man bitterly, and he managed to rise to his feet. “But what of my future? It is all gone! The work of years is lost.”
“Burned in the fire?” asked Tom, wondering whether the man was a major stockholder in the company. “Didn’t you have any insurance? Though I suppose you couldn’t get much on a fireworks plant,” he added, for he knew something of insurance matters in connection with his own business.
“Oh, it isn’t the fire—that is directly,” said the man, in the same bitter tones. “I’ve lost everything! The scoundrels stole them! And I—Oh, never mind!” he cried. “What’s the use of talking? I’m down and out! I might just as well have died in the fire!”
Tom was about to make some remark, but the doctor motioned to him to refrain, and then Ned came up with the runabout. At first Josephus Baxter, which was the name of the man who had been rescued, made some objections to going to Tom’s home. But when it was pointed out that he might lapse into a stupor again from the effects of the smoke poisons, in which event he would have no one to minister to him at his lonely home, he consented to go to the residence of the young inventor.
“Though if I do lapse into unconsciousness you might as well let me keep on sleeping until the end,” said Mr. Baxter bitterly to Tom and Ned, as they drove away from the scene of the fire with him.
“Oh, you’ll feel better in the morning,” cheerfully declared Ned.
The man did not answer, and the two chums did not feel much like talking, for they were worn out and weary from their exertions at the fire. The factory had been pretty well consumed, though by strenuous labors the blaze had not extended to adjoining structures. The home of Mary Nestor was saved, and for this Tom Swift was thankful.
Mrs. Baggert, the Swift’s housekeeper, was indeed glad to have some one to “fuss over,” as Tom put it. She prepared a bed for Mr. Baxter, and in this the weary and ill man sank with a sigh of relief.
“Can I do anything for you?” asked Tom, as he was about to go out and close the door.
“No—thank you,” was the halting reply. “I guess nothing can be done. Field and Melling have me where they want me now—down and out.”
“Do you mean Amos Field and Jason Melling of the fireworks firm?” asked Tom, for the names were familiar to him in a business way.
“Yes, the—the scoundrels!” exclaimed Mr. Baxter, and from his voice Tom judged that he was growing stronger. “They pretended to be my friends, giving me a shop in which to work and experiment, and when the time came they took my secret formulae. I believe that is what they started the fire for—to conceal their crime!”
“You don’t mean that!” cried Tom. “Deliberately to start a fire in a factory where there was powder and other explosives! That would be a terrible crime!”
“Field and Melling are capable of just such crimes as that!” said Josephus Baxter, bitterly. “If they took my formulae they wouldn’t stop at arson.”
“Were your formulae for the manufacture of fireworks?” asked Tom.
“Not altogether,” was the reply. “I had several formulae for valuable chemical combinations. They could be used in fireworks, and that is why I could use the laboratory here. But the main use of my discoveries is in the dye industry. I would have been a millionaire soon, with the rise of the American dye industry following the shutting out of the Germans after the war. But now, with my secret formulae gone, I am no better than a beggar!”
“Perhaps it will not be as bad as you think,” said Tom, recognizing the fact that Mr. Baxter was in a nervous and excited state. “Matters may look brighter in the morning.”
“I don’t see how they can,” was the grim answer. “However, I appreciate all that you have done for me. But I fear my case is hopeless.”
“I’ll see you again in the morning,” Tom said, trying to infuse some cheerfulness into his voice.
He found Ned waiting for him when he came downstairs.
“How is he?” asked the young business manager.
“In rather a bad way—mentally, at least,” and Tom told of the lost formulae. “Do you know, Ned,” he went on, “I have an idea!”
“You generally do have—lots of ’em!” Ned rejoined.
“But this is a new one,” went on Tom. “You saw what trouble they had this evening to get a stream of water to the top stories of that factory, didn’t you?”
“Yes, the pressure here isn’t what it ought to be,” Ned agreed. “And some of our engines are old-timers.”
“Why is it necessary always to fight a fire with water?” Tom continued. “There are plenty of chemicals that will put out a fire much quicker than water.”
“Of course,” Ned answered. “There are plenty of chemical fire extinguishers on the market, too, Tom. If your idea is to invent a new hand grenade, stay off it! A lot of money has been lost that way.”
“I wasn’t thinking of a hand grenade,” said Tom, as he drew some sheets of paper across the table to him. “My idea is on a bigger scale. There’s no reason, Ned, why a big fire in a tall building, like a sky-scraper, shouldn’t be fought from above, as well as from below. Now if I had the right sort of chemicals I could—”
Tom paused in a listening attitude. There was the rush of feet and a voice cried:
“I’ll get them! I’ll get the scoundrels!”
CHAPTER IV
AN EXPERIMENT
“That can’t be Koku and Rad in one of their periodic squabbles, can it?” asked Ned.
“No. It’s probably Mr. Baxter,” Tom answered. “The doctor said he might get violent once or twice, until the effects of his shock wore off. There is some quieting medicine I can give him. I’ll run up.”
“Guess I’d better go along,” remarked Ned. “Sounds as if you’d need help.”
And it did appear so, for again the frenzied shouts sounded:
“I’ll get ’em! I’ll get the scoundrels who stole my secret formulae that I worked over so many years! Come back now! Don’t put the match near the powder!”
Tom and Ned hurried to the room where the unfortunate chemist had been put to bed, to find him out in the hall, wrapped in a bedquilt, and with Mrs. Baggert vainly trying to quiet him. Mr. Baxter stared at Tom and Ned without seeing them, for he was in a delirium of fever.
“Have you my formulae?” he asked. “I want them back!”
“You shall have them in the morning,” replied Tom soothingly. “Lie down, and I’ll bring them to you in the morning. And drink this,” he added, holding out a glass of soothing mixture which the doctor had ordered in case the patient should become violent.
Josephus Baxter glared about with wild eyes, but between them Tom and Mrs. Baggert managed to get him to drink the
mixture.
“Bah! It’s as bad as some of my chemicals!” spluttered the chemist, as he handed back the glass. “You are sure you’ll have my formulae in the morning?” he asked, as he turned to go back to his room.
“I’ll do my best,” declared Tom cheerfully. “Now please lie down.”
Which, after some urging, Mr. Baxter consented to do. Eradicate wanted to lie down in the hall outside the excited chemist’s door to guard against his emerging again, but Tom decided on Koku. The giant, though not as intelligent as the colored man, was more efficient in an emergency because of his great strength. Eradicate was getting old, and there was a pathetic droop to his figure as he shuffled off when Koku superseded him.
“Ah done guess Ah ain’t wanted much mo’,” muttered Rad sadly.
“Oh, yes, you are!” cried Tom, as, the excitement over, he walked downstairs with Ned. “I’m going to start something new, Rad, and I’ll need your help.”
“Will yo’, really, Massa Tom?” exclaimed faithful Rad, his face lighting up. “Dat’s good! Is yo’ goin’ off after mo’ diamonds, or up to de caves of ice?”
“Not quite that,” answered the young inventor, recalling the stirring experiences that had fallen to him when on those voyages. “I’m going to work around home, Rad, and I’ll need your help.”
“Anyt’ing yo’ wants, Massa Tom! Anyt’ing yo’ wants!” offered the now delighted Rad, and he went to bed much happier.
“Well, to resume where we left off,” began Ned, when he and Tom were once more by themselves, “what’s the game?”
“Oh, I don’t know that it’s much of a game,” was the answer. “But I just have an idea that a big fire in a towering building can be fought from above with chemicals, as well as from the ground with streams of water.
“Well, I guess it could be,” Ned agreed. “But how are you going to get your chemicals in at the top? Shoot ’em up through a hose? If you do that you’ll need a special kind of hose, for the chemicals will rot anything like rubber or canvas.”
“I wasn’t thinking of a hose,” returned Tom. “What then?” asked the young financial manager.
“An airship!” Tom exclaimed with such sudden energy that Ned started. “It just came to me!” explained the youthful inventor. “I was wondering how we could get the chemicals in from the top, and an airship is the solution. I can sail over the burning building and drop the chemicals down. That will douse the blaze if my plans go right.”
Ned was silent a moment, considering Tom’s daring plan and project. Then, as it became clearer, the young banker cried:
“Blamed if I don’t think that’s just the thing, Tom! It ought to work, and, if it does, it will save a lot of lives, to say nothing of property! A fire in a sky-scraper ought to be fought from above. Then the extinguisher element, whether chemicals or water, could be dropped where they’d do the most good. As it is now, with water, a lot of it is wasted. Some of it never reaches the heart of the fire, being splashed on the outside of the building. A lot more turns to steam before it hits the flames, and only a small percentage is really effective.”
“That’s my notion,” Tom said.
“Then go ahead and do it!” urged his friend. “You have my permission!”
“Thanks,” commented Tom dryly. “But there are several things to be worked out before we can start. I’ve got to devise some scheme for carrying a sufficient quantity of chemicals, and invent some way of releasing them from an airship over the blaze. But that last part ought to be easy, for I think I can alter my warfare bomb-dropping attachment to serve the purpose.
“What I really need, however, is some new chemical combination that will quickly put a really big blaze out of business. There are any number of these chemicals, but most of them depend on the production of carbon dioxide. This is the product of some solution of a carbonate and sulphuric acid, and I suppose, eventually, I’ll work out something on that order. But I hope I may get something better.”
“You haven’t delved much into chemistry, have you?”
“No. And I wish now that I had. I see my limitations and realize my weakness. But I can brush up a little on my chemistry. As for the mechanical part, that of dropping the extinguisher on the blaze, I’m not worrying over that end.”
“No,” agreed Ned. “You have enough types of airships to be able to select just the best one for the purpose. But, say, Tom!” he suddenly cried, “why not ask him to help you?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Baxter. He’s a chemist. And though he says his formulae are about dyes and fireworks, maybe he can put you in the way of inventing a chemical solution that will be death to fires.”
“He might,” Tom agreed. “But I think he’ll be out of business for some time. This shock—being overcome by smoke and his secret formulae having been stolen—seem to have affected his mind. I don’t know that I could depend on him.”
“It’s worth trying,” declared Ned. “What do you suppose he means, Tom, saying that Field and Melling stole his formulae?”
“Haven’t the least idea. I only know those fireworks firm members slightly, if at all. I’m not sure I’d recognize them if I met them. But they are reputed to be wealthy, and I hardly think they would stoop to stealing some inventor’s formulae.
“We inventors are a suspicious lot, Ned, as you probably have found out,” he added with a smile. “We imagine the rest of the world is out to cheat us, and I presume Josephus Baxter is no exception. Still, there may be some truth in his story. I’ll give him all the help I can. But I’m going into the aerial fire-fighting game. I’ve been waiting for something new, and this may be it.”
“You may count on me!” declared Ned. “And now, unless you’re going to sit up all night and start studying chemistry, you’d better come to bed.”
“That’s right. Tomorrow is another day. I hope Mr. Baxter gets some rest. Sleep will improve him a lot, the doctor said.”
“I know one friend of yours who will be glad to know that you are going to start something,” remarked Ned, as he and Tom started for their rooms, for the young manager was staying with his friend for the night.
“Who?” Tom wanted to know.
“Mr. Wakefield Damon,” was the answer. “He hasn’t been over lately, Tom.”
“No, he’s been off on a little trip, blessing everything from his baggage check to his suspender buttons,” laughed the young inventor, as he recalled his eccentric acquaintance. “I shall be glad to see him again.”
“He’ll be right over as soon as he learns what’s in the wind,” predicted Ned.
The hopes that Mr. Baxter would be greatly improved in the morning were doomed to disappointment. He was in no actual danger, the doctor said, but his recovery from the effects of the smoke he had breathed was not as rapid as desired or hoped for.
“He’s suffering from some shock,” said the physician, “and his mental condition is against him. He ought to be kept quiet, and if you can’t have him here, Mr. Swift, I can arrange to have him sent to a hospital.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Tom exclaimed. “Let him stay here by all means. We have plenty of room, and Mrs. Baggert has been wishing for some one to nurse. Now she has him.”
So it was arranged that the chemist should remain at the Swift home, and he gave a languid assent when they spoke to him of the matter. He really was much more ill than seemed at first.
But as everything possible had been done, Tom decided to go ahead with the new idea that had come to him—that of inventing an aerial chemical fire-fighting machine.
“And if we get a chance, Ned, we’ll try to get back those secret formulae Mr. Baxter claims to have lost,” Tom declared. “I have heard some stories about that fireworks firm, which make me believe there may be something in Baxter’s story.”
“All right, Tom, I’m with you any time you need me,” Ned promised.
The young inventor lost little time in beginning his operations. As he had said, the chief need was
a fire extinguishing chemical solution or powder. Tom resolved to try the solution first, as it was easier to make. With this end in view he proceeded to delve into old and new chemistry books. He also sought the advice of his father.
And one day, when Ned called, Tom electrified his chum with the exclamation:
“Well, I’m going to give it a try!”
“What?”
“My aerial chemical fire-fighting apparatus. Of course I only have the chemical yet. I haven’t worked on the carrying apparatus nor decided how I will attach it to an airship. But I’m going up now with some of my new solution and drop it on a blaze from above.”
“Where are you going to get the fire?” asked Ned. “You can’t have a sky-scraper blaze made to order, you know.”
“No, but as this is only an experiment,” Tom said, “a big bonfire will answer the purpose. I’m having Koku and Rad make one now down in our big meadow. As soon as it gets hot enough and fierce enough, I’ll sail over it in my small machine, drop the extinguisher on it, and see what happens. Want to come?”
“Sure thing!” cried Ned. “And I hope the experiment is a success!”
“Thanks,” murmured Tom. “I’m about ready to start. All I have to do is to take this tank up with me,” and he pointed to one containing his new mixture. “Of course the arrangement for dumping it out of the aircraft is very crude,” Tom said. “But I can work on that later.”
Ned and he were busy putting the can of Tom’s new chemical extinguisher in the airship when the door of the hangar was suddenly opened and a very much excited man entered crying:
“Fire! Fire! Bless my kitchen sink, your meadow’s on fire, Tom Swift! It’s blazing high! Fire! Fire!”
CHAPTER V
THE EXPLOSION
Tom and Ned were so startled by the entrance of the excited man with his cry of “Fire!” that the young inventor nearly dropped the tank of liquid extinguisher he was helping to hoist into the aeroplane. Then, as he caught sight of his visitor, Tom exclaimed:
“Hello, Mr. Damon! We were wondering whether you’d be along to witness our first experiment.”
“Experiment, Tom Swift! Experiment! Bless my Latin grammar! but you’d much better be calling out the fire department to play on that blaze down in your meadow. What is it—your barns or one of your new shops?”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 300