Chapter XXII
Rescued
For a moment Ned and Mr. Damon gazed at the farmer in his rattletrap ofan auto, and then they looked at the fluttering piece of paper in hishand. Thence their gaze traveled to the ragged and barefoot lad sittingbeside the farmer.
"I found it!" announced the boy.
"Found what?" asked Ned.
"That there note!"
Without asking any more questions, reserving them until they knew moreabout the matter, Mr. Damon and Ned each reached out a hand for thepaper the farmer held. The latter handed it to Ned, being nearest him,and at a sight of the handwriting the young bank clerk exclaimed:
"It's from Tom, all right!"
"What happened to him?" cried Mr. Damon. "Where is he? Is he aprisoner?"
"So it seems," answered Ned. "Wait, I'll read it to you," and he read:
"'Whoever picks this up please send word at once to Mr. Swift or to NedNewton in Shopton, or to Mr. Damon of Waterfield. I am a prisoner,locked in the old factory. Tom Swift'."
"Bless my quinine pills!" cried Mr Damon. "What in the world does itmean? What factory?"
"That's just what we've got to find out," decided Ned. "Where did youget this?" he asked the farmer's boy.
"Way off over there," and he pointed across miles of fields. "I waslookin' for a lost cow, and I went past an old factory. There wasn'tnobody in the place, as far as I knowed, but all at once I heard someone yell, and then I seen something white, like a bird, sail out of ahigh window. I was scared for a minute, thinkin' it might be trampsafter me."
"And what did you do, Sonny?" asked Mr. Damon, as the boy paused.
"Well, after a while I went to where the white thing lay, and I pickedit up. I seen it was a piece of paper, with writin' on it, and it waswrapped around part of a brick."
"And did you go near the factory to find out who called or who threwthe paper out?" Ned queried.
"I didn't," the boy answered. "I was scared. I went home, and didn'teven start to find the lost cow.
"No more he did," chimed in the farmer. "He come runnin' in like awhitehead, and as soon as I saw the paper and heard what Bub had tosay, I thought maybe I'd better do somethin'."
"Did you go to the factory?" asked Ned eagerly.
"No. I thought the best thing to do would be to find this Mr. Swift, orthe other folks mentioned in this letter. I knowed, in a general way,where Shopton was, but I'd never been there, doing my tradin' in theother direction, and so I had to stop and ask the road. If you can tellme--"
"We're two of the persons spoken of in that note," said Mr. Damon, ashe mentioned his name and introduced Ned. "We have been looking for ourfriend Tom Swift for two days now. We must find him at once, as thereis no telling what he may be suffering."
"Where is this old factory you speak of," continued Mr. Damon, "and howcan we get there? It's too bad one of you didn't go back, after findingthe note, to tell Tom he was soon to be rescued."
"Waal, maybe it is," said the farmer, a bit put out by the criticism."But I figgered it would be better to look up this young man's friendsand let them do the rescuin', and not lose no time, 'specially as it'sabout as far from my place to the factory as it is to Shopton."
"Well, I suppose that's so," agreed Ned. "But what is this factory?"
"It's an old one where they started to make beet sugar, but it didn'tpan out," the farmer said. "The place is in ruins, and I did hear, notlong ago, that somebody run a threshin' machine through it, an' bustedit up worse than before."
"Great horned toads!" cried Ned. "That must be the very factory Tom ranhis tank through. And to think he should be a prisoner there!"
"Held by whom, do you suppose?" asked Mr. Damon.
"By that Blakeson gang, I imagine," Ned answered. "There's no time tolose. We must go to his rescue!"
"Of course!" agreed Mr. Damon. "We're much obliged to you for bringingthis note," he went on to the farmer. "And here is something to repayyou for your trouble," and he took out his wallet.
"Shucks! I didn't do this for pay!" objected the farmer. "It's a pityI wouldn't help anybody what's in trouble! If I'd a-knowed what itmeant, me and Bub here would have gone to the factory ourselves, maybe,and done the work quicker. But I didn't know--what with war times andsuch-like--but that it would be better to deliver the note."
"It turns out as well, perhaps," agreed Ned. "We'll look after Tom now."
"And I'll come along and help," said the farmer. "If there's a gang oftramps in that factory, you may need some reinforcements. I've got acouple of new axe handles in my machine, and they'll come in mightyhandy as clubs."
"That's so," said Mr. Damon. "But I fancy Tom is simply locked in thedeserted factory office, with no one on guard. We can get him out oncewe get there, and we'll be glad to have you come with us. So if youwon't take any reward, maybe your boy will, as he found the note," andMr. Damon pressed some bills into the hands of the boy, who, it isneedless to say, was glad to get them.
It was a run of several miles back to the deserted factory, and thoughthey passed houses on the way, it was decided that no addition to theirforce was necessary, though they did stop at a blacksmith shop, wherethey borrowed a heavy sledge to batter down a door if such actionshould be needed.
The farmer's rattletrap of a car, in spite of its appearance, was notfar behind Ned's runabout, and in a comparatively short time all werewithin sight of the ruined place--a ruin made more complete by thepassage through it of Tom Swift's war tank.
"And to think of his being there all this while!" exclaimed Mr. Damon,as he and Ned leaped from their machine.
"If he only is there!" murmured the young bank clerk.
"What do you mean? Didn't the note he threw out say he was there?"
"Yes, but something may have happened in the meanwhile. Thoseplotters, if they'd do a thing like this, are capable of anything. Theymay have kidnapped Tom again."
"Anyway, we'll soon find out," murmured Ned, as they advanced towardthe ruin, Mr. Damon and the farmer each armed with an axe helve, whileNed carried the blacksmith's sledge.
They went into the end of the factory that was less ruined than thecentral part, where the tank had crashed through, and made their wayinto what had been the office--the place where they had found theburned scraps of paper.
"Hark!" exclaimed Ned, as they climbed up the broken steps. "I heard anoise."
"It's him yellin'--like he did afore he threw out the note," said theboy. Then, as they listened, they heard a distant voice calling:
"Hello! Hello, there! If that is any friend of mine, let me out, orsend word to Mr. Damon or Ned Newton! Hello!"
"Hello yourself, Tom Swift!" yelled Ned, too delighted to wait for anyother confirmation that it was his friend who was shouting. "We've cometo rescue you, Tom!"
There was a moment of silence, and then a voice asked:
"Who is there?"
"Ned Newton, Mr. Damon, and some other friends of yours!" answered theyoung bank clerk, for surely the farmer and his son could be calledTom's friends.
An indistinguishable answer came back, and then Ned cried:
"Where are you, Tom? Tell us, so we can get you out!"
They all listened, and faintly heard:
"I'm in some sort of an old vault, partly underground. It's below whatused to be the office. There's a flight of steps, but be careful, asthey're rotten."
Eagerly they looked around Mr. Damon saw a door in one corner of theoffice, and tried to open it. It was locked, but a few blows from thesledge smashed it, and then some steps were revealed.
Down these, using due caution, went Ned and the others, and at thebottom they came upon another door. This was of sheet iron and wasfastened on the outside by a big padlock.
"Stand back!" cried Ned, as he swung the sledge, and with a few blowsbroke the lock to pieces.
Then they pulled open the door, and into the light staggered Tom Swift,a most woe-begone figure, and showing the effects of his imprisonment.Bu
t he was safe and unharmed, though much disheveled from his attemptsto escape.
"Thank Heaven, you've come!" he murmured, as he clasped Ned's hand. "Isthe tank all right?"
"All right!" cried Ned. "And now tell us about yourself. How in theworld did you get here?"
"It's quite a yarn," answered Tom. "I've got to pull myself togetherbefore I answer," and he sank wearily down on a step, looking veryhaggard and worn.
Tom Swift and His War Tank; Or, Doing His Bit for Uncle Sam Page 22