“Come on, pop!” cried Andy desperately. “We must hurry home. Mom will be worried.”
“Yes, I think she will. But I can’t understand why Sam should say such a thing. However, we are much obliged for the use of your pump, Swift, and—”
But Andy prevented any further talk by starting the car with the muffler open, making a great racket, and he hurriedly drove off, almost before his father was seated, leaving Tom standing there in the road, beside his pump and lantern.
“So,” mused the young inventor, “there’s some game on. Sam wasn’t with Andy, yet Andy evidently knew where Sam was, or he wouldn’t have been so anxious to choke off talk. Mr. Foger knew nothing of Sam, naturally. But why have Andy and his father been on a midnight trip to Waterfield?”
That last question caused Tom to adopt a new line of thought.
“Waterfield,” he mused. “That’s where Mr. Damon lives. Mr. Damon is a heavy depositor in the old bank. Mr. Foger is going to start a new bank. I wonder if there’s any connection there? This is getting mysterious. I must keep my eyes open. I never expected to meet Andy and his father tonight, any more than I expected to find Sam Snedecker sneaking around my shop, but it’s a good thing I discovered both parties. I guess Andy must have had nervous prostration when I was talking to his father,” and Tom grinned at the thought. Then, picking up the pump, and fastening the lantern in place, he drove Mr. Damon’s auto slowly back home.
Tom said nothing to his father or Mr. Sharp, the next morning, about the incidents of the previous night. In the first place he could not exactly understand them, and he wanted to devote more time to thinking of them, before he mentioned the matter to his parent. Another reason was that Mr. Swift was a very nervous person, and the least thing out of the ordinary worried him. So the young inventor concluded to keep quiet.
His first act, after going to look at the small motor, which was being run with the larger, experimental storage battery, was to get out pencil and paper.
“I’ve got to plan the electric auto now that my battery is in a fair way to success,” he said, for he noted that the one cell he had constructed had done over twice as much mileage in proportion, as had the small battery. “I’ll soon start building the car,” mused Tom, “and then I’ll enter it in the race. I must write to that touring club and find how much time I have.”
All that morning the young inventor drew plan after plan for an electric runabout, and rejected them. Finally he threw aside paper and pencil and exclaimed:
“It’s no use. I can’t think today. I’m dwelling too much on what happened last night. I must clear my brain.
“I know what I’ll do. I’ll get in my motor-boat and take a run over to Waterfield to see Mr. Damon. Maybe he’s home by this time. Then I can ask him what Mr. Foger wanted to see him about, if he did call.”
It was a fine May morning, and Tom was soon in his boat, the Arrow, gliding over Lake Carlopa, the waters of which sparkled in the sun. As he speeded up his craft, the lad looked about, thinking he might catch sight of Andy Foger, for the bully also owned a boat, called the Red Streak and, more than once, in spite of the fact that Andy’s craft was the more powerful, Tom had beaten him in impromptu races. But there was no sign of his rival this morning, and Tom kept on to Waterfield. He found that Mr. Damon had not yet returned home.
“So far I’ve had my run for nothing,” mused the youth. “Well, I might as well spend the rest of the morning in the boat.”
He swung his craft out into the lake, and headed back toward Mansburg, intending to run up to the head of the body of water, which offered so many attractions that beautiful morning.
As Tom passed a small dock he saw a girl just putting out in a rowboat. The figure looked familiar and, having nothing special to do, the lad steered over closer. His first view was confirmed, and he called out cheerfully:
“Good morning, Miss Nestor. Going for a row?”
“Oh! Mr. Swift!” exclaimed the girl with a blush. “I didn’t hear you coming. You startled me.”
“Yes, the engine runs quite silently since I fixed it,” resumed Tom. “But where are you going?”
“I was going for a row,” answered the girl, “but I have just discovered that one of the oar locks is broken, so I am not going for a row,” and she laughed, showing her white, even teeth.
“That’s too bad!” remarked the lad. “I don’t suppose,” he added doubtfully, “that I could induce you to accept a motor-boat as a substitute for a rowing craft, could I?” and he looked quizzically at her.
“Are you asking me that as a hypothetical question?” she inquired.
“Yes,” said Tom, trying not to smile.
“Well, if you are asking for information, merely, I will say that I could be induced to make such a change,” and her face was nearly as grave as that of the young inventor’s.
“What inducement would have to be used?” he asked.
“Suppose you just ask me in plain English to come and have a ride?” she suggested.
“All right, I will!” exclaimed the youth.
“All right, then I’ll come!” she retorted with a laugh, and a few minutes later the two were in the Arrow, making a pretty picture as they speeded up the lake.
CHAPTER VI
BUILDING THE CAR
“Well,” remarked Tom to himself, about two hours later, when he had left Mary Nestor at her dock, and was on his way home, “I feel better than I did, and now I must do some hard thinking about my runabout. I want to get it the right shape to make the least resistance.” He began to make some sketches when he got home, and at dinner he showed them to his father and Mr. Sharp. He said he had gotten an idea from looking at the airship.
“I’m going to make the front part, or what corresponds to the engine-hood in a gasolene car, pointed,” he explained. “It will be just like the front of the aluminum gas container of the airship, only built of steel. In it will be a compartment for a set of batteries, and there will be a searchlight there. From the top of some supporters in front of the two rear seats, a slanting sheet of steel will come right down to meet the sloping nose of the car. First I was going to have curtains close over the top of the driver’s seat, but I think a steel covering, with a celluloid opening will be better and make less wind resistance. I’ll use leather side curtains when it rains. Under the front seats will be a compartment for more batteries, and there will be a third place under the rear seats, where I will also carry spare wheels and a repair kit. The motors will be slung under the body of the car, amidships, and there will also be room for some batteries there.”
“How are you going to drive the car?” asked Mr. Sharp. “By a shaft?”
“Chain drive,” explained Tom. “I can get more power that way, and it will be more flexible under heavy loads. Of course it will be steered in the usual way, and near the wheel will be the starting and reversing levers, and the gear handle.”
“Gears!” exclaimed the aged inventor. “Are you going to gear an electric auto? I never heard of that. Usually the motor directly connected is all they use.”
“I’m going to have two gears on mine,” decided Tom.
“That’s a new idea,” commented the aeronaut.
“It is,” admitted the lad, “and that’s why my car is going to be so speedy. I’ll make her go a hundred miles an hour, if necessary!”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed his father.
“I will!” cried the young inventor, enthusiastically. “You just wait and see. I couldn’t do it but for the gears, but by using them I’ll secure more speed, especially with the big reserve battery power I’ll have. I know I’ve got the right idea, and I’m going to get right to work.”
His father and Mr. Sharp were much interested, and closely examined his sketches. In a few days Tom had made detailed drawings, and the aged inventor looked at them critically. He had to admit that his son’s theory was right, though how it would work out in practice was yet to be demonstrated. Mr. Swift offered some sugge
stions for minor changes, as did Mr. Sharp, and the lad adopted some of them. Then, with Mr. Jackson to help him, work was started on constructing the car.
Certain parts of it could be better purchased in the open market instead of being manufactured in Mr. Swift’s shop, and thus Tom was able to get his new invention into some sort of shape sooner than would otherwise have been the case. He also started making the batteries, many of which would be needed.
Gradually the car began to take form on the floor of Tom’s shop. It was rather a curious looking affair, the sharp forward part making it appear like some engine of war, or a projectile for some monster gun. But Tom cared little for looks. Speed, strength and ease of control were the chief features the lad aimed at, and he incorporated many new ideas into his electric car.
He was busy in the shop, one morning, when, above the noise caused by filing a piece of steel he heard some one exclaim:
“Bless my gizzard! If you aren’t as busy as ever!”
“Mr. Damon!” cried Tom in delight. “When did you get back?”
“Last night,” replied the eccentric man. “My wife and I stayed longer than we meant to. And whom do you think we met when we were off on our little trip?”
“Some of the Happy Harry gang?”
“Oh no. You’d never guess, so I’ll tell you. It was Captain Weston.”
“Indeed! And how has he been since he went in the submarine with us, and helped recover the gold from the wreck?”
“Very well. The first thing he said to me was: ‘How is Tom Swift and his father, if I may be permitted to ask?’”
“Ha! Ha!” laughed the lad, at the recollection of the odd sea captain, who generally tagged on an apologetic expression to most of his remarks.
“He was getting ready to take part in some South American revolution,” went on Mr. Damon. “He used most of his money that he got from the wreck to help finance their cause.”
“I must tell Mr. Sharp,” went on the lad. “He’ll be interested.”
“Anything new since I’ve been away?” asked the odd man. “Bless my shoe laces, but I’m glad to get back!”
Tom told of the prospect of a new bank being started, and of Sam’s midnight visit, as well as the encounter with Mr. Foger and Andy.
“I went over to see what Mr. Foger wanted of you,” went on the young inventor, “but you weren’t home. Did he call?”
“The servant said he had been there, not once, but several times,” remarked Mr. Damon. “That reminds me. He left a note for me, and I haven’t read it yet. I’ll do so now.”
He tore open the letter, and hastily perused the contents.
“Ha!” he exclaimed. “So that’s what he wanted to see me about!”
“What?” inquired Tom, with the privilege of and old friend.
“Mr. Foger says he’s going to start a new bank, and he wants me to withdraw my deposit from the old one, and put it in his institution. Says he’ll pay me bigger interest. And he adds that some of the old employees have gone with him.”
“I hope you’re not going to change,” spoke Tom, thinking of his chum, Ned.
“Indeed I’m not. The old bank is good enough for me. By the way, doesn’t a friend of yours work there?”
“Yes, Ned Newton. I’m wondering how he’ll be affected?”
“Don’t you worry!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Bless my check book! I’ll speak to Pendergast about your friend. Maybe there’ll be a chance to advance him further. I’ve got some mortgages falling due pretty soon, and I’ll deposit the money from them in the old bank. Then we’ll see what we can do about Ned.”
“They’ll make you a bank director, if you keep on putting in money,” remarked our hero, with a smile.
“Not much they won’t!” was the quick answer
“Bless my stocks and bonds! I’ve got trouble enough without becoming a bank director. My doctor says my liver is out of order again, and I’ve got to eat a lemon every morning before breakfast.”
“Eat a lemon?”
“Well, drink the juice! It’s the same thing. But how is the electric runabout coming on?”
“Pretty good.”
“Have you entered it in the races yet?”
“No, but I’ve written for information. I have until September to finish it. The races take place then.”
“Let’s see; they’re on Long Island; aren’t they? How do you calculate to do; run from here to there?”
“No, Dad still has the cottage he rented when we built the submarine and I think I’ll make that my headquarters during the race. It’s easy to run from there over to the Long Island track. They’re building a new one, especially for the occasion.
“Well, I hope you win the prize. I must go to town now, as I have to attend to some business. I don’t s’pose you want to come in my auto. I’m pretty sure something will break before I get there, and I’d like to have you along to fix it.”
“Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t go,” replied the lad. “I must get this car done, and then I’ve got to start on the batteries.”
Mr. Damon rather reluctantly went off alone, looking anxiously at his car, for the machine got out of order on every trip he took.
It was a few days after this that Tom received a call from Ned one evening. The bank employee’s face wore a happy smile.
“What’s the matter; some one left you a fortune?” asked Tom.
“Pretty nearly as good. I’ve got a better position.”
“What? Have you left the old bank, and gone to the new one?”
“No, I’m still in the same bank, but I’m one of the two cashiers now. Mr. Foger took several of the old employees when he opened his new bank, and that left vacancies. I was promoted, and so were one or two others. Mr. Damon spoke a good word for me.”
“That’s fine! He’s a friend worth having.”
“That’s right. Your father also recommended me. But how are things with you? Has Andy made any more trouble?”
“No, and I don’t believe he will. I guess he’ll steer clear of me.”
But Tom was soon to learn he was mistaken.
CHAPTER VII
TOM IS CAPTURED
Meanwhile the young inventor, aided by his father, Mr. Sharp and Garret Jackson, the engineer, worked hard over his new car, and the powerful batteries. A month passed, and such was the progress made that Tom felt justified in making formal entry of his vehicle for the races to be held by the Touring Club of America.
He paid a contingent fee and was listed as one of the competitors. As is usual in an affair of this kind, the promoters of it desired publicity, and they sought it through the papers.
Consequently each new entrant’s name was published. In addition something was said about his previous achievements in the speed line.
No sooner was the name of Tom Swift received by the officials of the club, than it was at once recalled that young Swift had had a prominent part in the airship Red Cloud, and the submarine Advance. This gave an enterprising reporter a chance for a “special” for the Sunday supplement of a New York newspaper.
Tom, it was stated, was building a car which would practically annihilate distance and time, and there were many weird pictures, showing him flying along without touching the ground, in a car, the pictorial construction of which was at once fearful and wonderful.
Tom and his friends laughed at the yarn, at first, but it soon had undesirable results. The young inventor had desired to keep secret the fact that he was building a new electric vehicle, and a novel storage battery, but the article in the paper aroused considerable interest. Many persons came a long distance, hoping for a sight of the wonderful car, as pictured in the Sunday supplement, but they had to be denied. The news, thus leaking out, kept the Swift shops almost constantly besieged by many curious ones, who sought, by various means, to gain admission. Finally Tom and his father, after posting large signs, warning persons to keep away, added others to the effect that undesirable visitors might find themselves unex
pectedly shocked by electricity, if they ventured too close. This had the desired effect, though the wires which were strung about carried such a mild charge that it would not have harmed a child. Then the only bothersome characters were the boys of the town, and, fearless and careless lads, they persisted in hanging around the Swift homestead, in the hope of seeing Tom dash away at the rate of five hundred miles an hour, which one enthusiastic writer predicted he would do.
“I’ve got a plan!” exclaimed Tom one day when the boys had been particularly troublesome.
“What is it?” asked his father.
“We’ll hire Eradicate Sampson to stand guard with a bucket of whitewash. He’ll keep the boys away.”
The plan was put into operation, and Eradicate and his mule, Boomerang, were installed on the premises.
“Deed an’ Ah’ll keep dem lads away,” promised the colored man. “Ah’ll splash white stuff all ober ’em, if dey comes traipsin’ around me.”
He was as good as his word, and, when one or two lads had received a dose of the stuff, which punishment was followed by more severe from home, for having gotten their clothes soiled, the nuisance ceased, to a certain extent. Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey were two who received a liberal sprinkling of the lime, and they vowed vengeance on Tom.
“And Andy Foger will help us, too,” added Sam, as he withdrew, after an encounter with Eradicate.
“Doan’t let dat worry yo’, Mistah Swift!” exclaimed the darkey. “Jest let dat low-down-good-fo-nuffin’ Andy Foger come ’round me, an’ Ah’ll make him t’ink he’s de inside ob a chicken coop, dat’s what Ah will.”
Perhaps Andy heard of this, and kept away. In the meanwhile Tom kept on perfecting his car and battery. From the club secretary he learned that a number of inventors were working on electric cars, and there promised to be many of the speedy vehicles in the race.
After considerable labor Tom had succeeded in getting together one set of the batteries. He had them completed one afternoon, and wanted to give them a test that night. But, when he went to his father’s chemical laboratory for a certain powder, which he needed to use in the battery solution, he found there was none.
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 55
