The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Probably not,” remarked Mr. Jenks. “I don’t believe the ghost will venture down the dangerous trail after dark, and the gang may think that the warning given us by the two men on guard at the cave will be sufficient. But if we don’t leave here by tomorrow I think we will have another visit from the thing in white.”

  It was about an hour after this when Tom was collecting some wood in a pile nearer the fire, so as to have it ready to throw on, in case there was any alarm in the night, that he happened to look up toward the summit of the mountain. A slight noise, as of loose stones rolling down, attracted his attention, and, at first, he feared lest another landslide was beginning, but a moment later he saw what caused it.

  There, advancing down the steep and dangerous trail was the figure in white—the phantom. Instantly a daring plan came into Tom’s head. Dropping the wood softly, he moved back out of the glare of the fire.

  “Mr. Jenks!” he called in a whisper.

  The diamond man, who was behind the tent, came toward Tom.

  “What is it?” he asked. Then, as he saw the ghostly visitor, he added: “Oh—the phantom again! What’s it up to?”

  “The same thing,” replied Tom, “but it won’t do it long, if my plan succeeds.”

  “What plan is that, Tom?”

  “I’m going to try to capture that—that man—or whatever it is. Will you help?”

  “Surely!”

  “Then let’s work around behind it, while Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker come up from in front. We’ll solve this part of the mystery, anyhow, if it’s possible!”

  The two other men were soon told of the plan. Meanwhile the thing in white had advanced slowly, until within a few hundred feet of the camp. They could see now that it was no shaft of light, but some white body, shaped like a tall, thin man, draped in a white garment. The long arms waved to and fro. There was no semblance of a head.

  “You and Mr. Parker go right toward it, slowly, Mr. Damon,” advised Tom. “Mr. Jenks and I will make a circle, and get in back. Then, if it’s anything alive we’ll have it.”

  The “ghost” continued to advance. Tom and the diamond man stole off to one side, their buckskin moccasins making no sound. Mr. Damon and the scientist went boldly forward.

  This movement appeared to disconcert the spirit. It halted, waved the arms with greater vigor than before, and seemed to indicate to the adventurers that it was dangerous to advance. But Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker kept on. They wanted to give Tom and Mr. Jenks time enough to make the circuit.

  Suddenly the stillness of the night was broken by a low whistle. It was Tom’s signal that he and Mr. Jenks were ready.

  “Come on! Run!” cried Mr. Damon.

  The scientist and the eccentric man leaped forward.

  The “ghost” heard the whistle, and heard the spoken words. The thing in white hesitated a moment, and then raised one arm. There was a flash of lire, and a loud report.

  “He’s firing in the air!” cried Tom. “Come on, we have him now!”

  Undaunted by the display of firearms, Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker kept on. They could hear Tom and Mr. Jenks running up in back of the figure. The latter also heard this, and suddenly turned. Caught between the two forces of our friends, the “ghost” was at a loss what to do.

  The next instant Tom, who had distanced Mr. Jenks, made a flying tackle for the figure in white, and caught it around the legs. Very substantial legs they were, too, Tom felt—the legs of a man.

  “Wow!” yelled the “ghost,” as he went down in a heap, the revolver falling from his hand.

  “Come on!” cried Tom. “I have him!”

  His friends rushed to his aid. There was a confused mass of dark bodies, arms and legs mingled with something tall and thin, all in white. Suddenly the moon came from behind a cloud and they could see what they had captured—for captured the phantom was.

  It proved to be a rather small man, who wore upon his shoulders a framework of wood, over which some white cloth was draped. It had fallen off him when Tom made that tackle.

  “Well,” remarked the young inventor, as he sat on the struggling man’s chest. “I guess we’ve got you.”

  “I rather guess you have, stranger,” was the cool reply.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  BILL RENSHAW WILL HELP

  They were all panting from the exertion of the run up the mountain and the contest with the phantom—a phantom no longer—though, truth to tell, the struggle was not nearly so fierce as Tom had expected. He thought the “ghost” would put up a stiff fight.

  “Got any ropes to tie him with?” asked Mr. Damon, who was helping Tom hold the man down.

  “Ropes? You aren’t going to tie me up are you, strangers?” asked the captive.

  “That’s what we are!” exclaimed Mr. Jenks. “We’ve had trouble enough in this matter, and if I’ve got one of the gang, perhaps I can get some of the others, and have my rights. So tie him up, Tom, and we’ll take him to camp.

  “Oh, you needn’t go to all that trouble, strangers,” went on the man, calmly. “If one of you will get off my chest, and the other gentleman ease up on my stomach a bit, I’ll walk wherever you want me, and not make any trouble. I haven’t got a gun.”

  “Bless my gloves! But you’re a cool one,” commented Mr. Damon, as he complied with the man’s request, and got up from his stomach. “But look out for him, Tom. He had a gun, for he fired it in the air.”

  “He hasn’t it now,” answered the young inventor. “I knocked it from his hand when I leaped for him.”

  “That’s what you did,” assented the man, as he got up, while Tom kept a tight hold of him, as did Mr. Jenks. “What kind of a grizzly bear hug do you call that, anyhow, that you gave me?”

  “That was a football tackle,” explained Tom.

  “I allers heard that was a dangerous game!” remarked the former phantom simply. “Well, now you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”

  “Take you where we can have a good look at you,” replied Mr. Jenks, as he kicked aside the wooden framework, and the sheet which had made the “ghost” appear so tall. “So this is how you worked it; eh?”

  “Yep. That was the ‘haunt’ stranger. I made it myself, and it worked all right until you folks come along. I rather suspicioned from the first, when I played the trick over on ’tother side of the mountain, that you wouldn’t be so easy to fool as most prospectors are.”

  “Oh, so you’re the only ghost then?” asked Tom.

  “I’m the only one.”

  By this time they had reached the camp. Tom threw some light logs on the fire, which blazed up brightly. As the flames illuminated the face of their captive, Mr. Jenks looked at him, and cried out:

  “Why it’s Bill Renshaw!”

  “That’s me,” admitted the man who had played the part of the phantom, “and thunder-turtles! if it ain’t Mr. Jenks who was once in the diamond cave with us. Whatever happened to you? I never heard. The others said you got tired and went away.”

  “They took me away—defrauded me of my rights!” declared Mr. Jenks, bitterly. “But I’ll get them back! To think of Bill Renshaw playing the part of a ghost!”

  “They made me do it,” went on the man, somewhat dejectedly. “I wanted to be at work in the cave, but they wouldn’t let me.”

  “Is this man one of the diamond makers?” asked Tom, in great surprise.

  “He is—one of the helpers, though I don’t believe he knows the secret of making the gems,” explained Mr. Jenks. “He was one of the men in the cave when I was there before, and he and I struck up quite a friendship; didn’t we, Renshaw?”

  “That’s what, and there ain’t no reason why we can’t be friends now; that is unless you hold a grudge against me for firing at you. But I only shot in the air, to scare you away. Them’s my instructions. I’m supposed to be on guard, and scare away strangers. I’m tired of the work, too, for I don’t get my share, and those other fellows, in the cave, get all the money from the diamon
ds.”

  Tom Swift uttered an exclamation. A sudden plan had come to him. Quickly he whispered to Mr. Jenks:

  “Make a friend of this man if possible. He evidently is dissatisfied. Offer him a sum to show us another way into the cave, and we may yet discover the secret of the diamond makers.”

  “I will,” declared Mr. Jenks, quietly. Then, turning to Renshaw, he added:

  “Bill, come over here. I want to have a talk with you. Perhaps it will be to our mutual advantage.”

  He led the former phantom to one side, and for some time conversed earnestly with him. Mr. Jenks told the story of how he had been deceived by Folwell and the others who were at the head of the gang of diamond makers. The rich man related how they had taken his money, and, after promising to disclose the secret process to him, had broken faith, and had drugged him, afterward taking him out of the cave.

  “I want only my rights, and that for which I paid,” concluded Mr. Jenks. “Now, I gather that these men haven’t treated you altogether fairly, Bill.”

  “Indeed they haven’t. I helped ’em to the best of my ability, and all I get out of it is to stay out on this lonely side of the mountain, and play ghost. They owe me money, too, and they won’t pay me, either, though they have lots, for they sold some diamonds lately.”

  “Then they are still making diamonds?” asked Mr. Jenks, eagerly. “Have you seen them? Do you know the secret?”

  “No, I don’t know it, for they won’t let me in on it. I’m always sent out of the cave just before they make the gems. But I know they’ve made some lately, and have sold ’em. I want my share.”

  “Look here!” exclaimed Mr. Jenks, quickly, wishing to strike while the iron was hot. “I’ll make you a proposition. Show us how to get into that cave, unknown to the diamond makers, and I’ll pay you twice what they agreed to. Is it a bargain?”

  Bill Renshaw considered a moment. Then he thrust out his hand, clasped that of Mr. Jenks, and exclaimed:

  “It is. I’ll take you into the cave by an entrance that’s seldom used. There are four ways to get in. The one where the two men drove you back is the rear one. The front one is on the other side of the mountain, but it’s so well concealed that you’d never find it. But I can take you to one where you can get in, and those fellows will never know it. And, what’s more, I’ll help you if it comes to a fight!”

  “Good!” exclaimed Mr. Jenks. “I think we’ll discover the secret of the diamond makers this time,” and he went to tell the others of the success of his talk. Bill Renshaw had been converted from an enemy into a friend, and the former phantom was now ready to lead Tom and the others into the secret cave.

  “We’ll start in the morning,” decided Mr. Jenks, who, after many disappointments, at last saw success ahead of him.

  CHAPTER XIX

  IN THE SECRET CAVE

  Tom Swift was up at break of day, and the others were not far behind him.

  “Now for the secret cave!” cried the young inventor as he gazed up the mountain, in the interior of which the mysterious band of men were making the diamonds.

  “Have you made any plans, Bill?” asked Mr. Jenks of the former phantom, who had cast his lot in with the adventurers. “What will be the best course for us to follow?”

  “You just leave it to me, Mr. Jenks,” was the answer. “I’ll get you into the cave, and those fellows, who, I believe, are trying to do me out of my rights, as they did you out of yours, will never know a thing about it.”

  “Bless my finger-nails!” cried Mr. Damon. “That will be great! We can get in the cave, and watch them make the diamonds at our leisure.”

  “They don’t make them every day,” explained Renshaw. “It seems they have to wait for certain occasions. Mostly they make the diamonds when there’s a big storm.”

  “A big storm,” asked the scientist with a sudden show of interest. “Do you mean one of those electrical storms, such as we had the other night?”

  “That’s it, Mr. Parker, though why they wait until there’s a storm is more than I can tell.”

  “Perhaps they know that on such occasions no one will venture up the mountain,” spoke Mr. Damon.

  “No, it isn’t that,” declared the scientist. “I think I am on the track of a great scientific discovery, and I will soon be able to make observations that will confirm it.”

  “Well, I’m going to make an observation right now,” said Tom, with a laugh. “I’m going to see what there is for breakfast.”

  “And that reminds me,” came from Mr. Jenks, “shall we move our camp, Bill, and take the tent with us to the cave?”

  “I hardly think so,” was the answer. “I think the best plan would be to conceal the tent somewhere around here, in case you might need it again. You can also store what food you have left.”

  “But, bless my appetite, we don’t want to starve in that diamond cave!” objected Mr. Damon.

  “I’ll see that you don’t,” declared Bill Renshaw. “I’ll take you in there, unbeknownst to those fellows, and I’ll provide you with plenty of food and water. You see the cave is so big that there are some parts they never visit.”

  “And we can stay in one of those parts, and eat?” asked Tom.

  “Sure,” answered Bill.

  “And watch the diamond makers at work?” asked Mr. Jenks.

  “That’s it,” replied the former phantom.

  “Then the sooner we get started the better,” remarked Mr. Damon. Mr. Parker said nothing. He appeared to be thinking deeply, and was tapping at some rocks with his little hammer.

  The advice of Bill Renshaw was followed, and the tent, and what food remained, was concealed in the bushes, with rocks piled over to keep away prowling animals. Then they started for the secret cave.

  The man who played the part of a ghost picked up the framework and white cloth that had formed his disguise.

  “I’ll still have to use this,” he explained, “for I don’t want those fellows to know that I’m helping you. I’ll continue to play the spirit of the mountain, but there won’t be much need of it. I don’t think any more people will come prospecting out here.”

  “Have you heard of the arrival of Farley Munson?” asked Tom, as he related the facts about the stowaway.

  “He hadn’t arrived up to a day or so ago,” answered Bill. “I guess he’s still traveling. Farley is one of the heads of the gang,” he added, “and a dangerous man.”

  As Bill led the way toward the cave, taking a route that the adventurers had never suspected led to it, he explained that the cavern was a large one, capable of holding an army.

  “But there’s only a small part of it used by the diamond makers,” he added. “They work in a small recess, near the summit of the mountain. The little cave, where I’m going to take you, opens off from it by a long passage. And, except that you’ll be pretty much in the dark, you’ll be quite comfortable. There are tables, chairs, and some bunks in the place. I can get you some lights, and plenty of food.”

  “But, if you are seen taking away food, won’t the others suspect something?” asked Tom.

  “I do pretty much as I please,” said Bill. “I go and come when I like. All I’m supposed to do is to watch my two sides of the mountain, play the ghost, and give warning when any one is coming. Sometimes I leave black and white messages, like the one I put on your tent. Those fellows fix ’em up for me. I’ve told ’em about you, though I didn’t know who you were, and they think you have gone, for the two men on guard at the rear entrance so reported. Sometimes I stay out on the mountain for a couple of days at a time, when the weather’s good, and don’t go back to the cave. Those times I take food with me, and so if they see me making off with some supplies they’ll think I’m going to camp out.”

  “It doesn’t look as though we’d ever get into a cave near the top of the mountain, going this way,” said Tom, as they marched along. “We’re going down, instead of up.”

  “That’s the secret of this trail,” explained Bi
ll. “We go down in a sort of valley, and then go up a pretty stiff place, and then we’re on a direct trail to the entrance I told you about. It’s a steep road to climb, but I guess we can manage it.”

  And a hard climb the adventurers did find it. The road was almost as bad as the one along the edge of the chasm, but they managed to negotiate it, and finally found themselves on a fairly good trail.

  “We’ll soon be there,” Bill assured them. “After you get in the little cave, where I’m going to hide you, I’ll have to leave you for a spell, until I get my ghost rigging fixed up again. But I’ll see that you have plenty of food and drink.”

  A little later their guide came to a sudden halt, and peered around anxiously.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Tom.

  “I was just looking to see if any of the men were about,” he answered. “But I guess not—it looks all right. The entrance is right here.”

  They were on a side of the mountain, near the summit. Below stretched a magnificent scene. A great valley lay at their feet, and they could look off to many distant peaks. The main trail to Leadville, and the one to the settlement of Indian Ridge, was in sight.

  Suddenly Tom, who had been using a small but powerful telescope, uttered an exclamation, and focussed the instrument on a speck that seemed moving along on the trail below.

  “A man—coming up the mountain,” cried Tom. “And—it can’t be—yet it is—it’s Farley Munson—the stowaway!” he cried. “He’s coming here!”

  “Let me look!” begged Mr. Jenks, taking the glass from Tom. An instant later the diamond man exclaimed: “Yes, it’s Munson!”

  “Then in here with you—quick!” cried Renshaw. “He can’t see us yet, and we’ll be out of sight in another minute.”

  The former spirit pulled aside some thick bushes, and pointed to a hole which was disclosed.

  “The entrance to the secret cave,” he announced. “Slip in all of you.”

  Tom, after another glance at the man toiling his way up the mountain, entered the cavern. He was followed by the others. Bill was the last to enter, and he replaced the bushes over the entrance.