The Tom Swift Megapack
Page 31
“Air you ze ownair of zis machine?”
“One of them,” replied the lad.
“Ha! Sacre! Zen I challenge you to a race. I have a monoplane zat is ze swiftest evaire! One thousand francs will I wager you, zat I can fly higher and farther zan you.”
“Shall we take him up, Mr. Sharp?” asked Tom.
“We’ll race with him, after we get through with the club entries.” decided the aeronaut. “but not for money. It’s against my principles, and I don’t believe your father would like it. Racing for prizes is a different thing.”
“Well, we will devote ze money to charity,” conceded the Frenchman. This was a different matter, and one to which Mr. Sharp did not object, so it was arranged that a trial should take place after the regular affairs.
That night was spent in getting the Red Cloud in shape for the contests of the next day. She was “groomed” until every wire was taut and every cog, lever and valve working perfectly. Ned Newton helped all he could. So much has appeared in the newspapers of the races at Blakeville that I will not devote much space here to them. Suffice it to say that the Red Cloud easily distanced the big dirigible from which much was expected. It was a closer contest with the large triplane, but Tom’s airship won, and was given the prize, a fine silver cup.
As the carnival was a small one, no other craft in a class with the Red Cloud had been entered, so Tom and Mr. Sharp had to be content with the one race they won. There were other contests among monoplanes and biplanes, and the little Frenchman won two races.
“Now for ze affaire wis ze monstaire balloon of ze rouge color!” he cried, as he alighted from his monoplane while an assistant filled the gasolene tank. “I will in circles go around you, up and down, zis side zen ze ozzer, and presto! I am back at ze starting place, before you have begun. Zen charity shall be ze richair!”
“All right, wait and see,” said Tom, easily. But, though he showed much confidence he asked Mr. Sharp in private, just before the impromptu contest: “Do you think we can beat him?”
“Well,” said the aeronaut, shrugging his shoulders, “you can’t tell much about the air. His machine certainly goes very fast, but too much wind will be the undoing of him, while it will only help us. And I think,” he added, “that we’re going to get a breeze.”
It was arranged that the Red Cloud would start from the ground, without the use of the gas, so as to make the machines more even. At the signal off they started, the motors making a great racket. The monoplane with the little Frenchman in the seat got up first.
“Ah, ha!” he cried gaily, “I leave you in ze rear! Catch me if you can!”
“Don’t let him beat us,” implored Ned.
“Can’t you speed her up any more?” inquired Tom of Mr. Sharp.
The aeronaut nodded grimly, and turned more gasolene into the twenty-cylindered engine. Like a flash the Red Cloud darted forward. But the Frenchman also increased his speed and did, actually, at first, circle around the bigger machine, for his affair was much lighter. But when he tried to repeat that feat he found that he was being left behind.
“That’s the stuff! We’re winning!” yelled Tom, Ned joining in the shout.
Then came a puff of wind. The monoplane had to descend, for it was in danger of turning turtle. Still the navigator was not going to give up. He flew along at a lower level. Then Mr. Sharp opened up the Red Cloud’s engine at full speed, and it was the big machine which now sailed around the other.
“I protest! I protest!” cried the Frenchman, above the explosions of his motor. “Ze wind is too strong for me!”
Mr. Sharp said nothing, but, with a queer smile on his face he sent the airship down toward the earth. A moment later he was directly under the monoplane. Then, quickly rising, he fairly caught the Frenchman’s machine on top of a square platform of the gas container, the bicycle wheels of the monoplane resting on the flat surface. And, so swiftly did the Red Cloud fly along that it carried the monoplane with it, to the chagrin of the French navigator.
“A trick! A trick!” he cried. “Eet is not fair!”
Then, dropping down, Mr. Sharp allowed the monoplane to proceed under its own power, while he raced on to the finish mark, winning, of course, by a large margin.
“Ha! A trick! I race you tomorrow and again tomorrow!” cried the beaten Frenchman as he alighted.
“No, thanks,” answered Tom. “We’ve had enough. I guess charity will be satisfied.”
The little Frenchman was a good loser, and paid over the money, which was given to the Blakeville Hospital, the institution receiving it gladly.
At the request of the carnival committee, Mr. Sharp and Tom gave an exhibition of high and long flights the next day, and created no little astonishment by their daring feats.
“Well, I think we have reason to be proud of our ship,” remarked Mr. Sharp that night. “We won the first contest we were ever in, and beat that speedy monoplane, which was no small thing to do, as they are very fast.”
“But wait until we go on our trip,” added Tom, as he looked at the cup they had won. He little realized what danger they were to meet with in the flight that was before them.
CHAPTER 9
THE RUNAWAY AUTO
Had the inventors of the Red Cloud desired, they could have made considerable money by giving further exhibitions at the Blakeville Aero Carnival, and at others which were to be held in the near future at adjoining cities. The fame of the new machine had spread, and there were many invitations to compete for prizes.
But Tom and Mr. Sharp wished to try their skill in a long flight, and at the close of the Blakeville exhibition they started for Shopton, arriving there without mishap, though Tom more than half hoped that they might happen to strike the tower of a certain school. I needn’t specify where.
The first thing to be done was to complete the fitting-up of the car, or cabin. No berths had, as yet, been put in, and these were first installed after the Red Cloud was in her shed. Then an electrical heating and cooking apparatus was fitted in; some additional machinery, tanks for carrying water, and chemicals for making the gas, boxes of provisions, various measuring instruments and other supplies were put in the proper places, until the cabin was filled almost to its capacity. Of course particular attention had been paid to the ship proper, and every portion was gone over until Mr. Sharp was sure it was in shape for a long flight.
“Now the question is,” he said to Tom one evening, “who shall we take with us? You and I will go, of course, but I’d like one more. I wonder if your father can’t be induced to accompany us? He seemed to like the trial trip.”
“I’ll ask him tomorrow,” said the lad. “He’s very busy tonight. If he doesn’t care about it, maybe Garret Jackson will go.”
“I’m afraid not. He’s too timid.”
“I’d like to take Ned Newton, but he can’t get any more time away from the bank. I guess we’ll have to depend on dad.”
But, to the surprise of Tom and Mr. Sharp, the aged inventor shook his head when the subject was broached to him next day.
“Why won’t you go, dad?” asked his son.
“I’ll tell you,” replied Mr. Swift. “I was keeping it a secret until I had made some advance in what I am engaged upon. But I don’t want to go because I am on the verge of perfecting a new apparatus for submarine boats. It will revolutionize travel under the water, and I don’t want to leave home until I finish it. There is another point to be considered. The government has offered a prize for an underwater boat of a new type, and I wish to try for it.”
“So that’s what you’ve been working on, eh, dad?” asked his son.
“That’s it, and, much as I should like to accompany you, I don’t feel free to go. My mind would be distracted, and I need to concentrate myself on this invention. It will produce the most wonderful results, I’m sure. Besides, the government prize is no small one. It is fifty thousand dollars for a successful boat.”
Mr. Swift told something more about his
submarine, but, as I expect to treat of that in another book, I will not dwell on it here, as I know you are anxious to learn what happened on the trip of the Red Cloud.
“Well,” remarked Mr. Sharp, somewhat dubiously, “I wonder who we can get to go? We need someone besides you and I, Tom.”
“I s’pose I could get Eradicate Sampson, and his mule Boomerange,” replied the lad with a smile. “Yet I don’t know—”
At that instant there was a tremendous racket outside. The loud puffing of an automobile could be heard, but mingled with it was the crash of wood, and then the whole house seemed jarred and shaken.
“Is it an earthquake?” exclaimed Mr. Swift, springing to his feet, and rushing to the library windows.
“Something’s happened!” cried Tom.
“Maybe an explosion of the airship gas!” yelled Mr. Sharp, making ready to run to the balloon shed. But there was no need. The crashing of wood ceased, and, above the puffing of an auto could be heard a voice exclaiming
“Bless my very existence! Bless my cats and dogs! Good gracious! But I never meant to do this!”
Tom, his father and Mr. Sharp rushed to the long, low windows that opened on the veranda. There, on the porch, which it had mounted by way of the steps, tearing away part of the railing, was a large touring car; and, sitting at the steering wheel, in a dazed sort of manner, was Mr. Wakefield Damon.
“Bless my shirt studs!” he went on feebly. “But I have done it now!”
“What’s the matter?” cried Tom, hastening up to him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“Hurt? Not a bit of it! Bless my moonstone!
It’s the most lucky escape I ever had! But I’ve damaged your porch, and I haven’t done my machine any good. Do you see anything of another machine chasing me?”
Tom looked puzzled, but glanced up and down, the road. Far down the highway could be discerned a cloud of dust, and, from the midst of it came a faint “chug-chug.”
“Looks like an auto down there,” he said.
“Thank goodness! Bless my trousers, but I’ve escaped ’em!” cried the eccentric man from whom Tom had purchased his motor-cycle.
“Escaped who?” asked Mr. Swift.
“Those men. They were after me. But I may as well get out and explain. Dear me! However will I ever get my car off your porch?” and Mr. Damon seemed quite distressed.
“Never mind,” answered Tom. “We can manage that. Tell us what happened.”
“Exactly,” replied Mr. Damon, growing calmer, “Bless my shoe buttons, but I had a fright, two of them, in fact.
“You see,” he went on, “I was out partly on pleasure and partly on business. The pleasure consisted in riding in my auto, which my physician recommended for my health. The business consisted in bringing to the Shopton Bank a large amount of cash. Well, I deposited it all right, but, as I came out I saw some men hanging around. I didn’t like their looks, and I saw them eyeing me rather sharply. I thought I had seen them before and, sure enough I had. Two of the men belonged to that Happy Harry gang. I”.
Tom made a quick motion of a caution, pointing to his father, but it was not necessary, as Mr. Swift was absently-mindedly calculating an a piece of paper he had taken from his pocket, and had not heard what Mr. Damon said. The latter, however, knew what Tom meant, and went on.
“Well, I didn’t like the looks of these men, and when I saw them sizing me up, evidently thinking I had drawn money out instead of putting it in, I decided to give them the slip. I got in my auto, but I was startled to see them get in their car. I headed for here, as I was coming to pay you a visit, anyhow, and the mysterious men kept after me. It became a regular race. I put on all the speed I could and headed for your house, Tom, for I thought you would help me. I went faster and faster, and so did they. They were almost up to me, and I was just thinking of slowing down to turn in here, when I lost control of my machine, and—well, I did turn in here, but not exactly as I intended. Bless my gaiters! I came in with rather more of a rush than I expected. It was awful—positively awful, I assure you. You’ve no idea how nervous I was. But I escaped those scoundrels, for they rushed on when they saw what I had done—smashed the porch railing”.
“Probably they thought you’d smash them,” observed Tom with a laugh. “But why did they follow you?”
“Can’t imagine! Haven’t the least idea. Bless my spark-plug, but they might have imagined I had money. Anyhow I’m glad I escaped them!”
“It’s lucky you weren’t hurt,” said Mr. Sharp.
“Oh, me? Bless my existence! I’m always having narrow escapes.” Mr. Damon caught sight of the Red Cloud which was out in front of the big shed. “Bless my heart! What’s that?” he added.
“Our new airship,” answered Tom proudly. “We are just planning a long trip in it, but we can’t find a third member of the party to go along.”
“A third member!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Do you really mean it?”
“We do.”
“Bless my shoe laces! Will you take me along?”
“Do you mean that?” asked Tom in turn, foreseeing a way out of their difficulties.
“I certainly do,” answered the eccentric man. “I am much interested in airships, and I might as well die up in the clouds as any other way. Certainly I prefer it to being smashed up in an auto. Will you take me?”
“Of course!” cried Tom heartily, and Mr. Sharp nodded an assent. Then Tom drew Mr. Damon to one side. “We’ll arrange the trip in a few minutes,” the lad said. “Tell me more about those mysterious men, please.”
CHAPTER 10
A BAG OF TOOLS
Wakefield Damon glanced at Mr. Swift. The inventor was oblivious to his surroundings, and was busy figuring away on some paper. He seemed even to have forgotten the presence of the eccentric autoist.
“I don’t want father to hear about the men,” went on Tom, in a low tone. “If he hears that Happy Harry and his confederates are in this vicinity, he’ll worry, and that doesn’t agree with him. But are you sure the men you saw are the same ones who stole the turbine model?”
“Very certain,” replied Mr. Damon. “I had a good view of them as I came from the bank, and I was surprised to see them, until I remembered that they were out of jail.”
“But why do you think they pursued you?”
“Bless my eyes! I can’t say. Perhaps they weren’t after me at all. I may have imagined it, but they certainly hurried off in their auto as soon as I left the bank, after leaving my money there. I’m glad I deposited it before I saw them. I was so nervous, as it was, that I couldn’t steer straight. It’s too bad, the way I’ve damaged your house.”
“That doesn’t matter. But how about the trip in the airship? I hope you meant it when you said you would go.”
“Of course I did. I’ve never traveled in the air, but it can’t be much worse than my experience with my motor-cycle and the auto. At least I can’t run up any stoop, can I?” and Mr. Damon looked at Mr. Sharp.
“No,” replied the aeronaut, as he scratched his head, “I guess you’ll be safe on that score. But I hope you won’t get nervous when we reach a great height.”
“Oh, no. I’ll just calm myself with the reflection that I can’t die but once,” and with this philosophical reflection Mr. Damon went back to look at the auto, which certainly looked odd, stuck up on the veranda.
“Well, you’d better make arrangements to go with us then,” went on Tom. “Meanwhile I’ll see to getting your car down. You’ll want to send it home, I suppose?”
“No, not if you’ll keep it for me. The fact is that all my folks are away, and will be for some time. I don’t have to go home to notify them, and it’s a good thing, as my wife is very nervous, and might object, if she heard about the airship. I’ll just stay here, if you’ve no objection, until the Red Cloud sails, if sails is the proper term.”
“‘Sails’ will do very well,” answered Mr. Sharp. “But, Tom, let’s see if you and I can’t get that car down. P
erhaps Mr. Damon would like to go in the house and talk to your father,” for Mr. Swift had left the piazza.
The eccentric individual was glad enough not to be on hand when his car was eased down from the veranda and disappeared into the house. Tom and Mr. Sharp, with the aid of Garret Jackson, then released the auto from its position. They had to take down the rest of the broken railing, and their task was easy enough. The machine was stored in a disused shed, and Mr. Damon had no further concern until it was time to undertake the trip through the air.
“It will fool those men if I mysteriously disappear,” he said, with a smile. “Bless my hat band, but they’ll wonder what became of me. We’ll just slip off in the Red Cloud, and they’ll never be the wiser.”
“I don’t know about that,” commented Tom. “I fancy they are keeping pretty close watch in this vicinity, and I don’t like it. I’m afraid they are up to some mischief. I should think the bank authorities would have them locked upon suspicion. I think I’ll telephone Ned about it.”
He did so, and his chum, in turn, notified the bank watchman. But the next day it was reported that no sign of the men had been seen, and, later it was learned that an auto, answering the description of the one they were in, had been seen going south, many miles from Shopton.
The work of preparing the Red Cloud for the long trip was all but completed. It had been placed back in the shed while a few more adjustments were made to the machinery.
“Bless my eyelashes!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, a few days before the one set for the start, “but I haven’t asked where we are bound for. Where are we going, anyhow, Mr. Sharp?”
“We’re going to try and reach Atlanta, Georgia,” replied the balloonist. “That will make a fairly long trip, and the winds at this season are favorable in that direction.”
“That suits me all right,” declared Mr. Damon. “I’m all ready and anxious to start.”