The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  He closed with one of these, some distance off, and agreed to fly over in his aircraft and extinguish a fire which was to be started in an old building which had been condemned, and was to be destroyed. This was in a city some four hundred miles away and when Ned Newton called on him one afternoon he found Tom busily engaged in loading his sky-craft with a heavy cargo of the newest liquid extinguisher.

  “You aren’t taking any chances, are you, Tom?” asked Ned.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you seem to have enough of the liquid ‘fire-discourager’ to douse any blaze that was ever started.”

  “No use sending a boy on a man’s errand,” said Tom. “I’m counting on you to go with me, Ned—you and Mr. Baxter. We leave this afternoon for Denton.”

  “I’ll be with you. Couldn’t pass up a chance like that. But here comes Koku, and it looks as if he had something on his mind.”

  The giant did, indeed, seem to be laboring under the stress of some emotion.

  “Oh, Master Tom!” the big man exclaimed when he had got the attention of the young inventor. “Rad—he—he—”

  “Has anything happened?” asked Tom, quickly. “No, not yet. But dat pill man—he say by tomorrow he know if Rad ever will see sunshine more!”

  “Oh, the doctor says he’ll be able to decide about Rad’s eyesight tomorrow, does he?”

  “Yes. What so pill man say,” repeated Koku.

  “Um,” mused Tom, “I wish I were going to be here, but I don’t see how I can. I must give this test.” But it was with a sinking heart as he thought of poor Eradicate that the young inventor proceeded to pile into his airship the largest and heaviest load of chemicals it had ever carried.

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE LIGHT IN THE SKY

  “Well, what do you say, Tom?” asked Ned, in a low voice.

  “She’s all right as far as I can see, though she may stagger a bit at the take off.”

  “It’s a pretty heavy load,” agreed the young manager, as he and Tom Swift walked about the big fire-fighting airship Lucifer, which had been rolled outside the hangar. “But still I think she’ll take it, especially since you’ve tuned up the motor so it’s at least twenty per cent. more powerful than it was.”

  “Perhaps you’d better leave me out,” suggested Mr. Baxter, who had been helping the boys. “I’m not a feather weight, you know.”

  “I need you with us,” said Tom. “I want your expert opinion on the effect the new chemicals have on the flames.”

  “Well, I’d like to come,” admitted the chemist, “for it will be a valuable experience for me. But I don’t want an accident up in the air.”

  “Trust Tom Swift for that!” cried Ned. “If he says his aircraft will do the trick, it positively will.”

  “How about leaving me out?” asked Mr. Damon. “I’m not an expert in anything, as far as I know.”

  “You are in keeping us cheerful. And we may need you to bless things if there’s a slip-up anywhere,” laughed Tom, for Mr. Damon had been invited to be one of the party.

  “I don’t so much mind a slipup,” said Mr. Damon, “as I do a slip down. That’s where it hurts! However, I’ll take a chance with you, Tom Swift. It won’t be the first one—and I guess it won’t be the last.”

  The work of getting the big airship ready for what was to be a conclusive test of her fire-fighting abilities from the clouds proceeded rapidly. As has been related, Tom had perfected, with the help of Mr. Baxter, a combination of chemicals which was effective in putting out a fire when dropped into the blaze from above. Quantities of this combination had been stored in metal containers which Tom had at first styled “bombs,” but which he now called “aerial grenades.”

  The manner of dropping the grenades was, on the whole, similar to the manner in which bombs were dropped from airships during the Great War, but Tom had made several improvements in this plan.

  These improvements had to do with the releasing of the bombs, or, in this case, grenades. It is not easy to drop or throw something from a swiftly moving airship so that it will hit an object on the ground. During the war aviators had to train for some time before becoming even approximately accurate.

  Tom Swift decided that to leave this matter to chance or to the eye of the occupant of an airship was too indefinite. Accordingly he invented a machine, something like a range-finder for big guns. With this it was a comparatively easy matter to drop a grenade at almost any designated place.

  To accomplish this it was necessary to take into consideration the speed of the airship, its height above the ground, the velocity of the wind, the weight of the grenades, and other things of this sort. But by an intricate mathematical process Tom solved the problem, so that it was only necessary to set certain pointers and levers along a slide rule in the cockpit of the craft. Then when the releasing catch was pressed, the grenades would drop down just about where they were most needed.

  “I think everything is ready,” said Tom, when he had taken a last look over his craft, making sure that all the chemical grenades were in place. “If you will be ready, gentlemen, we will take our places and start in about half an hour,” he added. “I want to say goodbye to my father, and cheer up Rad—if I can.”

  “The doctor will know tomorrow, will he?” asked Mr. Damon.

  “Yes. And I’m sorry I will not be here to listen to the report,” said Tom. “Though I am almost afraid to receive it,” he added in a low voice. “I shall blame myself if Rad is to go through the remainder of his life blind.”

  “It couldn’t be helped,” said Ned. “We’ll hope for the best.”

  “Yes,” agreed Tom, “that’s all we can do—hope for the best. By the way,” he went on, turning to Mr. Baxter, “are you any nearer fastening the guilt on those two rascals, Field and Melling?”

  “Bless my prosecuting attorney, no!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Those are the slickest scoundrels I ever tackled! They’re like a flea. Once you think you have them where you want them, and they’re on the other side of the table, skipping around.”

  “I’ve about given up,” said Mr. Baxter, in discouraged tones. “I guess my dye formulae are gone forever.”

  “Don’t say that!” exclaimed Tom. “Once I get this fire matter off my hands, I’m going to tackle the problem myself. We’ll either make those fellows sorry they ever meddled in this matter, or we’ll get up a new combination of dyes that will put them out of business!”

  “Bless my Easter eggs, I’m glad to hear you talk that way!” cried Mr. Damon.

  “Well, Rad, I’ll expect to see you up and around when I get back,” said Tom to his old servant, as he stepped into the sick room to say goodbye.

  “Oh, is yo’ goin’, Massa Tom?” asked the colored man, turning his bandaged head in the direction of the beloved voice.

  “Yes. I’m going to try out a new scheme of mine—the fire extinguisher, you know.”

  “De same one whut fizzed up, an’—an’ busted me in de eyes, Massa Tom?”

  “Yes, Rad, I’m sorry to say, it’s the same one.”

  “Oh, shucks now, Massa Tom! whut’s use worryin’?” laughed Rad. “I suah will be all right when yo’ gits back. De doctor man—de ‘pill man’ dat giant calls him—says I’ll suah be better.”

  “Of course you will,” declared Tom, but his heart sank when he saw Mrs. Baggert remove the bandages and he caught sight of Rad’s burned face and the eyes that had to be kept closed if ever they were again to look on the sunshine and flowers. “And when I come back, Rad, I’ll stage a little fire for your benefit, and show you how quickly I can put it out.”

  “Ha! dat’s whut I wants to see, Massa Tom, I suah does like to see fires!” chuckled Eradicate. “Mah ole mule, Boomerang—does yo’ ’member him, Massa Tom?”

  “Of course, Rad!”

  “Well, Boomerang he liked fires, too. Liked ’em so much I jest couldn’t git him past ’em lots ob times I But run ’long, Massa Tom. Yo’ ain’t got no time to waste
on an ole culled man whut’s seen his best days. Yas-sir, I reckon I’se seen mah best days,” and the smile died from the honest, black face.

  “Oh, don’t talk like that!” cried Tom, as cheerfully as he could. “You’ve got a lot of work in you yet, Rad. Hasn’t he, Koku?” and the young inventor appealed to the giant, who seldom left the side of his former enemy.

  “Rad good man—him an’ me do lots work—next week mebby,” said Koku, smiling very broadly.

  “That’s the way to talk!” exclaimed Tom, and he laughed a little though his heart was far from light.

  And then, having seen to the final details, he took his place in the big airship with Ned, Mr. Damon and Josephus Baxter. The craft carried the largest possible load of fire extinguishing chemicals.

  As Tom had feared, the Lucifer staggered a bit in “taking off” late that afternoon when the start was made for the distant city of Denton, where the first real test was to be made under the supervision and criticism of the fire department. But once the craft was aloft she rode on a level keel.

  “I guess we’re all right,” Tom said. But to make certain he circled several times over his own landing field, that a good place to come down might be assured if something unforeseen developed.

  However, all went well, and then the course was straightened for the distant city.

  “We’ll go right over Newmarket, sha’n’t we, Tom?” asked Ned, as the speed of the Lucifer increased.

  “Yes. And I wish I had time to stop and see Mary, but I haven’t. It’s getting dark fast, and we ought to arrive at our destination early in the morning. The test has been set by the committee for ten o’clock.”

  They settled themselves comfortably in the big craft for a long night trip, and Mr. Damon was just going to bless something or other when he pointed off into the distance.

  “Look, Tom!” cried the eccentric man. “See that light in the sky!”

  “Seems to be a fire,” observed Ned.

  “It is a fire!” shouted Mr. Baxter. “And it’s in Newmarket, if I’m any judge.”

  Tom Swift did not answer, but he shoved forward the gasolene lever of his controls, and the Lucifer shot ahead through the air while the red, angry glow deepened in the evening sky.

  CHAPTER XXII

  TRAPPED

  While Tom Swift was loading the Lucifer for her trip and the fire extinguishing test to occur the next morning, quite a different scene was taking place in the home of Jasper Blake, the uncle of Mary Nestor, where she had gone to spend a few weeks.

  “Well, are you all ready, Mary?” asked her aunt, and it was about the same time that Ned Newton asked that same question of Tom Swift. Only Tom was in Shopton, and Mary was in Newmarket, and Tom was setting off on an air voyage, while Mary was only preparing to take a car downtown to do some shopping.

  “Yes, Aunt, I’m all ready,” Mary answered. “But I may be a bit late getting home.”

  “Why?” asked Mrs. Blake.

  “I promised Uncle Barton I’d stop and call on him at his office,” Mary replied. “He has something he wants me to take home to mother when I go tomorrow.”

  “I shall be sorry to see you go back,” said Mrs. Blake. “But I imagine there will be those in Shopton who will be glad to see you return, Mary.”

  “Yes, mother wrote that she and dad were getting a bit lonesome,” the girl casually replied, as she adjusted her veil.

  “Yes, and some one else. Ah, Mary, you are a very lucky girl!” laughed her aunt, while Mary turned aside so she would not see her own blushes in the mirror.

  “I thought Tom was going to call and take you home in his airship, Mary,” went on her relative.

  “So he is, I believe, on his way back from a city where he is going to be tomorrow making a big fire test. I am to wait for him until tomorrow afternoon. But now I really must go shopping, or all the bargains will be taken. Is there any word you want to send to Uncle Barton?”

  “No,” answered Mrs. Blake. “Though you might tell him to stop poking fun at your Uncle Jasper for having invested money in the Landmark Building. It’s getting on your Uncle Jasper’s nerves,” she added.

  “Uncle Barton never can give up a joke, once he thinks he has one,” said Mary. “But I’ll tell him to stop pestering Uncle Jasper.”

  “Please do,” urged Mary’s aunt, and then the girl left.

  Mary’s uncle, Barton Keith, with whom Tom Swift had been associated during the undersea search, had offices in the Landmark Building, but his home was in an adjoining suburb.

  The girl was pleased with the results of her shopping, and at the close of the afternoon she stopped at the Landmark Building and was soon being shot up in the elevator to the floor where Barton Keith had his offices.

  Though Mr. Keith had refrained from investing in the Landmark Building and though he laughed at Mary’s Uncle Jasper for having done so, this did not prevent him from having a suite of offices in the big structure which, as we already know, was owned in large part by Field and Melling.

  “Ah, Mary! Come in!” exclaimed Mr. Keith, welcoming Tom Swift’s sweetheart. “It is so late I was afraid you weren’t coming, and I was about to close the office and go home.”

  “You must blame the bargain sales for my delay,” laughed Mary. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

  “No, I still had a few things to do. One was to write a letter to your Uncle Jasper, telling him I had heard of another fire trap that was open to investors.”

  “Oh, and that reminds me I must tell you not to push Uncle Jasper too far!” warned Mary.

  “Ha! Ha!” laughed Uncle Barton. “He made fun of me for going on the undersea search with Tom Swift. But I made good on that, and that’s more than he can say about his Landmark Building deal!”

  “But don’t exasperate him too much!” begged Mary. “By the way, what are they doing to this building? I see the stairways and some of the elevator shafts all littered with building material.”

  “They are trying to make it fireproof,” answered her uncle. “It’s rather late to try that now, but they’ve got either to do it or stand a big increase in insurance rates. I’m glad I’m out of it. But now, Mary, take an easy chair until I finish some work, and then I’ll walk out with you.”

  Mary took a seat near one of the front windows, whence she could look down into the now fast-darkening streets. She could see the supper crowds hurrying home, and out in the corridor of the big skyscraper could be heard the banging of elevator doors as the office tenants, one after another, left for the day.

  Suddenly there was more commotion than usual, followed by the sound of broken glass. Then came a cry of:

  “Fire! Fire!”

  Mary sprang to her feet with a gasp of alarm, and her uncle rushed past her to the door leading into the hall outside his offices. As he opened the door a cloud of smoke rushed toward him and Mary, causing them to choke and gasp.

  Mr. Keith closed the door a moment, and when he opened it again the smoke in the hall seemed less dense.

  “It probably is only a slight blaze among some of the material the workmen are using,” he said. “Come, Mary, we’ll get out.”

  Pausing only to swing shut the door of his heavy safe and to stuff some valuable papers into his pocket, Mr. Keith advanced and, taking Mary by the arm, led her into the hall. The smoke was increasing again, and distant shouts and cries could be heard, mingled with the breaking of glass.

  Mr. Keith rang the elevator buzzer several times, but when no car came up the shaft in response to his summons he turned to his niece and said:

  “We’ll try the stairs. It’s only ten stories down, and going down isn’t anything like coming up.”

  “Oh, indeed I can walk!” said Mary. “Let’s hurry out!”

  They turned toward the stairway, which wound around the elevator shafts, but such a cloud of hot, stifling smoke rolled up that it sent them back, choking and gasping for breath.

  And then, as they stood there, up the elevat
or shafts, which were veritable chimneys, came more hot smoke, mingled with sparks of fire.

  “Trapped!” gasped Mr. Keith, and he pulled Mary back toward his offices to get away from the choking, stifling smoke. “We’re trapped!”

  CHAPTER XXIII

  TO THE RESCUE

  “Uncle! Uncle Barton!” faltered Mary, as she clung to Mr. Keith. “Can’t we get down the stairs?”

  “I’m afraid not, Mary,” he answered, and he closed the door of his office to keep out the smoke that was ever increasing.

  “And won’t the elevators come for us?”

  “They don’t seem able to get up,” was his reply. “Probably the fire started in the bottom of the shafts, and they act just like flues, drawing up the flames and smoke.”

  “Then we must try the fire escapes!” exclaimed Mary, and she started toward the front window, pulling her uncle across the room after her.

  “Mary, there aren’t—aren’t any fire escapes!” he said hoarsely.

  “No fire escapes!” The girl turned paler than before.

  “No, not an escape as far as I know. You see, this was thought to be a fireproof building at first and small attention was given to escapes. Then the law stepped in and the owners were ordered to put up regular escapes. They have started the work, but just now the old escapes have been torn down and the new ones are not yet in place.”

  “Oh, but Uncle Barton! can’t we do something?” cried Mary. “There must be some way out! Let’s try the elevators again, or the stairs!”

  Before Mr. Keith could stop her Mary had opened the door into the hall. To the agreeable surprise of her uncle there seemed to be less smoke now.

  “We may have a chance!” he cried, and he rushed out. “Hurry!”

  Frantically he pushed the button that summoned the elevators. Down below, in the elevator shafts, could be heard the roar and crackle of flames.

  “Let’s try the stairs!” suggested Mary. “They seem to be free now.”

  She started down the staircase which went in square turns about the battery of elevators, and her uncle followed. But they had not more than reached the first landing when a roll of black, choking smoke, mingled with sparks of fire, surged into their faces.