The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Of course not,” replied the lad quickly, “but I’d like to meet Andy alone, with nothing but my fists for a little while,” and Tom’s eyes snapped.

  “So would I,” added Ned.

  “Perhaps we can find another pocket of gold better than that one,” suggested Mr. Damon.

  “We might,” admitted Abe, “but that one was ours an’ we’re entitled to it. This valley is rich in gold deposits, but you can’t allers put your hand on ’em. We may have t’ hunt around for a week until we strike another. An’, meanwhile, them Fogers will be takin’ our gold! It’s not to be borne! I’ll find some way of drivin’ ’em out. An’ we’ve got t’ do it soon, too.”

  “You mean if we don’t that they’ll get all the gold?” asked Mr. Damon.

  “No, I mean that soon it will be th’ long night up here, an’ we can’t work. We’ll have t’ go back, an’ I don’t want t’ go back until I’ve made my pile.”

  “Neither do any of us, I guess,” spoke Tom, “but there doesn’t seem to be any help for it.”

  They discussed several plans on reaching the ship, but none seemed feasible without resorting to force, and this they did not want to do, as they feared there might be bloodshed. When night closed in they could see the gleam of a campfire, kindled by the Foger party, at the gold-pocket, from bits of the scrubby trees that grew in that frigid clime.

  “They’re going to stay on guard,” announced Tom. “We can’t get it away from them tonight.”

  Though Abe had spoken of some plan to regain the advantage the Fogers had of them, the old miner was not quite ready to propose it. All the next day he seemed very thoughtful, while going about with the others, seeking new deposits of gold. Luck did not seem to be with them. They found two or three places where there were traces of the yellow pebbles, but in no very great quantity.

  Meanwhile the Fogers were busy at the pocket Ned had located. They seemed to be taking out much of the precious metal.

  “And it all ought to be ours,” declared Tom, bitterly.

  “Yes, and it shall be, too!” suddenly exclaimed. Abe. “I think I have a plan that will beat ’em.”

  “What is it?” asked Tom.

  “Let’s get back to the ship, and I’ll tell you,” said Abe. “We can’t tell when one of their natives might be sneakin’ in among these ice caves, an’ they understand some English. They might give my scheme away.”

  In brief Abe’s plan, as he unfolded it in the cabin of the Red Cloud was this:

  They would divide into two parties, one consisting of Ned and Tom, and the other of the three men. The latter, by a circuitous route, would go to the ice caves where the Fogers had established their camp. It was there that the Indians remained during the day, while Andy and his father labored at the gold pocket, for, after the first day when they had had the natives aid them, father and son had worked alone at the hole, probably fearing to trust the Indians. At night, though either Andy or his father remained on guard, with one or two of the dusky-skinned dog drivers.

  “But we’ll work this trick before night,” said Abe. “We three men will get around to where the natives are in the ice cave. We’ll pretend to attack them, and raise a great row, firing our guns in the air, and all that sort of thing, an’ yellin’ t’ beat th’ band. Th’ natives will yell, too, you can depend on that.”

  “Th’ Fogers will imagine we are tryin’ t’ git away with their sleds an’ supplies, an’ maybe their gold, if they’ve got it stored in th’ ice cave. Naturally Andy or his father will run here, an’ that will leave only one on guard at th’ mine. Then Tom an’ Ned can sneak up. Th’ two of ’em will be a match for even th’ old Foger, if he happens t’ stay, an’ while Tom or Ned comes up in front, t’ hold his attention, th’ other can come up in back, an’ grab his arms, if he tries t’ shoot. Likely Andy will remain at th’ gold hole, an’ you two lads kin handle him, can’t you?”

  “Well, I guess!” exclaimed Tom and Ned together.

  The plan worked like a charm. Abe, Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker raised a great din at the ice cave where the Foger natives were. The sound carried to the hole where Andy and his father were digging out the gold. Mr. Foger at once ran toward the cave, while Andy, catching up his gun, remained on the alert.

  Then came the chance of Tom and Ned. The latter coming from his hiding-place, advanced boldly toward the bully, while Tom, making a detour, worked his way up behind.

  “Here! You keep away!” cried Andy, catching sight of Ned. “I see what the game is, now! It’s a trick!”

  “You’re a nice one to talk about tricks!” declared Ned, advancing slowly.

  “Keep away if you don’t want to get hurt!” yelled Andy.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t hurt me; would you?” mocked Ned, who wanted to give Tom time to sneak up behind the bully.

  “Yes, I would! Keep back!” Andy was nervously fingering his weapon. The next instant his gun flew from his grasp, and he went over backward in Tom’s strong grip; for the young inventor, in his sealskin shoes had worked up in the rear without a sound. The next moment Andy broke away and was running for his life, leaving Tom and Ned in possession of the gold hole, and that without a shot being fired. A little later the three men, who had hurried away from the cave as Mr. Foger rushed up to see what caused the racket, joined Tom and Ned, and formal possession was taken of their lucky strike.

  “We’ll guard it well, now,” decided Tom, and later that day they moved some supplies near the hole, and for a shelter built an igloo, Eskimo fashion, in which work Abe had had some experience. Then they moved the airship to another ice cave, nearer their “mine” as they called it, and prepared to stand guard.

  But there seemed to be no need, for the following day there was no trace of the Fogers. They and their natives had disappeared.

  “I guess we were too much for them,” spoke Tom. But the sequel was soon to prove differently.

  It was three days after our friends had regained their mine, during which time they had dug out considerable gold, that toward evening, as Tom was taking the last of the output of yellow pebbles into the cave where the airship was, he looked across the valley.

  “Looks like something coming this way,” observed the young inventor. “Natives, I guess.”

  “It is,” agreed Ned, “quite a large party, too!”

  “Better tell Abe and the others,” went on Tom. “I don’t like the looks of this. Maybe the sudden disappearance of the Fogers has something to do with it.”

  Abe, Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker hurried from the ice cave. They had caught up their guns as they ran out.

  “They’re still coming on,” called Tom, “and are headed this way.”

  “They’re Indians, all right!” exclaimed Abe. “Hark! What’s that?”

  It was the sound of shouting and singing.

  Through the gathering dusk the party advanced. Our friends closely scanned them. There was something familiar about the two leading figures, and it could now be seen that in the rear were a number of dog sleds.

  “There’s Andy Foger and his father!” cried Ned. “They’ve gone and got a lot of Eskimos to help them drive us away.”

  “That’s right!” admitted Tom. “I guess we’re in for it now!”

  With a rush the natives, led by the Fogers, came on. They were yelling now. An instant later they began firing their guns.

  “It’s a fierce attack!” cried Tom. “Into the ice cave for shelter! We can cover the gold mine from there. I’ll get my electric gun!”

  CHAPTER XXIV

  THE WRECK OF THE AIRSHIP

  Almost before our friends could retreat into the cave which now sheltered the Red Cloud, the attacking natives opened fire. Fortunately they only had old-fashioned, muzzle-loading muskets, and, as their aim was none of the best, there was comparatively little danger. The bullets, however, did sing through the fast-gathering darkness with a vicious sound, and struck the heavy sides and sloping front of the ice cave with a disconcerting “ping!”


  “I don’t hear Andy or his father firing!” called Tom, as he and the others returned the fire of the savage Indians. “I could tell their guns by the sharper reports. The Fogers carry repeating rifles, and they’re fine ones, if they’re anything like the one we took from Andy, Ned.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Tom’s chum, “I don’t believe Andy or his father dare fire. They’re afraid to, and they’re putting the poor ignorant natives up to it. Probably they hired them to try to drive us away.”

  This, as they afterward learned, was exactly the case.

  The battle, if such it could be called, was kept up. There was about a hundred natives, all of whom had guns, and, though they were slow to load, there were enough weapons to keep up a constant fusilade. On their part, Tom and the others fired at first over the heads of the natives, for they did not want to kill any of the deluded men. Later, though, when they saw the rush keeping up, they fired at their legs, and disabled several of the Eskimos, the electric gun proving very effective.

  It was now quite dark, and the firing slackened. From their position in the cave, Tom and the others could command the hole where the gold was, and, as they saw several natives sneaking up to it the young inventor and Ned, both of whom were good shots, aimed to have the bullets strike the ice close to where the Indians were.

  This sort of shooting was enough, and the natives scurried away. Then Tom hit on the plan of playing the searchlight on the spot, and this effectually prevented an unseen attack. It seemed to discourage the enemy, too for they did not venture into that powerful glow of light.

  “They won’t do anything more until morning,” declared Abe. “Then we’ll have it hot an’ heavy, though, I’m afeered. Well, we’ll have t’ make th’ best of it!”

  They took turns standing guard that night, but no attack was made. The fact of the Fogers coming back with the band of Indians told Tom, more plainly than words, how desperately his enemies would do battle with them. Anxiously they waited for the morning.

  Several times in the night Mr. Parker was seen roaming about uneasily, though it was not his turn to be on guard. Finally Tom asked him what was the matter, and if he could not sleep.

  “It isn’t that,” answered the scientist, “but I am worried about the ice. I can detect a slight but peculiar movement by means of some of my scientific instruments. I am alarmed about it. I fear something is going to happen.”

  But Tom was too worried about the outcome of the fight he knew would be renewed on the next day, to think much about the ice movement. He thought it would only be some scientific phenomena that would amount to little.

  With the first streak of the late dawn, the gold-seekers were up, and partook of a hot breakfast, with strong coffee which Mr. Damon brewed. Tom took an observation from the mouth of the cave. The searchlight was still dimly glowing, and it did not disclose anything. Tom turned it off. He thought he saw a movement among the ranks of the enemy, who had camped just beyond the gold hole.

  “I guess they’re coming!” cried the lad. “Get ready for them!”

  The adventurers caught up their guns, and hurried to the entrance of the cave. Mr. Parker lingered behind, and was observed to be narrowly scanning the walls of the cavern.

  “Come on, Parker, my dear man!” begged Mr. Damon. “We are in grave danger, and we need your help. Bless my life insurance policy! but I never was in such a state as this.”

  “We may soon be in a worse one,” was the answer of the gloomy scientist.

  “What do you mean?” asked Mr. Damon, but he hurried on without waiting for a reply.

  Suddenly, from without the cave came a series of fierce yells. It was the battle-cry of the Indians. At the same moment there sounded a fusillade of guns.

  “The battle is beginning!” cried Tom Swift, grimly. He held his electric gun, though he had not used it very much in the previous attack, preferring to save it for a time of more need.

  As the defenders of the cave reached the entrance they saw the body of natives rushing forward. They were almost at the gold hole, with Andy Foger and his father discreetly behind the first row of Eskimos, when, with a suddenness that was startling, there sounded throughout the whole valley a weird sound!

  It was like the wailing of some giant—the sighing of some mighty wind. At the same time the air suddenly became dark, and then there came a violent snow squall, shutting out instantly the sight of the advancing natives. Tom and the others could not see five feet beyond the cave.

  “This will delay the attack,” murmured Ned, “They can’t see to come at us.”

  Mr. Parker came running up from the interior of the cave. On his face there was a look of alarm.

  “We must leave here at once!” he cried.

  “Leave here?” repeated Tom. “Why must we? The enemy are out there! We’d run right into them!”

  “It must be done!” insisted the scientist. “We must leave the cave at once!”

  “What for?” cried Mr. Damon.

  “Because the movement of the ice that I predicted, has begun. It is much more rapid than I supposed it would be. In a short time this cave and all the others will be crushed flat!”

  “Crushed flat!” gasped Tom.

  “Yes, the caves of ice are being destroyed! Hark! You can hear them snapping!”

  They all listened. Above the roar of the storm could be made out the noise of crushing, grinding ice-sounds like cannon being fired, as the great masses of frozen crystal snapped like frail planks.

  “The ice caves are being destroyed by an upheaval of nature!” went on Mr. Parker. “This one will soon go! The walls are bulging now! We must get out!”

  “But the natives! They will kill us!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my soul! what a trying position to be in.”

  “I guess the natives are as bad off as we are,” suggested Ned. “They’re not firing, and I can hear cries of alarm, I think they’re running away.”

  There was a lull in the snow flurry, and the white curtain seemed to lift for a moment. The gold-seekers had a glimpse of the natives in full retreat, with the Fogers—father and son—racing panic-stricken after them. Tom could also see a big cave, just beyond the gold hole, collapse and crumble to pieces like a house of cards.

  “We have no time to lose!” Mr. Parker warned them. “The roof of this cave is slowly coming down. The sides are collapsing! We must get out!”

  “Then wheel out the airship!” cried Tom. “We must save that! We needn’t fear the natives, now!”

  The young inventor hurried to the Red Cloud calling to Ned and the others. They hastened to his side. It was an easy matter to move the airship along on the wheels. It neared the opening of the cave. The rumbling, roaring, grinding sound of the ice increased.

  “Why—why!” cried Tom in surprise and alarm, as the craft neared the mouth of the ice cavern, “we can’t get it out—the opening is too small! Yet it came in easily enough!”

  “The cave is collapsing—growing smaller every moment!” cried Mr. Parker. “We have only time to save our lives! Run out!”

  “And leave the airship? Never!” yelled Tom.

  “You must! You can’t save that and your life!”

  “Get axes and make the opening bigger!” suggested Ned, who, like his chum, could not bear to think of the destruction of the beautiful craft.

  “No time! No time!” shouted Mr. Parker, frantically, “We must get out! Save what you can from the ship—the gold—some supplies—the guns—some food—save what you can!”

  Then ensued a wild effort to get from the doomed craft what they could—what they would need if they were to save their lives in that cold and desolate country. Food, some blankets—their guns—as much of the gold as they could hastily gather together—their weapons and some ammunition—all this was carried from the cabin outside the cave. The entrance was rapidly growing smaller. The roof was already pressing down on the gas-bag.

  Tom gave one last look at his fine craft. There were tears
in his eyes. He started into the cabin for something he had forgotten. Mr. Parker grabbed him by the arm.

  “Don’t go in!” he cried hoarsely. “The cave will collapse in another instant!” He rushed with Tom out of the cavern, and not a moment too soon. The others were already outside.

  Then with a rush and a roar, with a sound like a great explosion, with a rending, grinding and booming as the great pieces of ice collapsed one against the other, the big ice cave settled in, as does some great building when the walls are weakened!

  Down crashed the roof of the ice cave! Down upon the Red Cloud, burying out of sight, forever, under thousands of tons of ice and snow, the craft which was the pride of Tom Swift’s heart! It was the end of the airship!

  Tom felt a moisture of tears in his eyes as he stood there in the midst of the snowstorm.

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE RESCUE—CONCLUSION

  For a few moments after the collapse of the cave, and the destruction of the airship, on which they depended to take them from that desolate land, no one spoke. The calamity had been too terrible—they could hardly understand it.

  The snow had ceased, and, over the frozen plain, in full retreat, could be seen the band of attacking Indians. They had fled in terror at the manifestation of Nature. And Nature, as if satisfied at the mischief she had wrought, called a halt to the movement of the ice. The roaring, grinding sounds ceased, and there were no more collapses of caves in that neighborhood.

  “Well, we are up against it,” spoke Tom, softly. “Poor old Red Cloud! There’ll never be another airship like you!”

  “We are lucky to have escaped with our lives,” said Mr. Parker. “Another moment and it would have been too late. I was expecting something like this—I predicted it.”

  But his honor was an empty one—no one cared to dispute it with him.

  “Bless my refrigerator! What’s to be done!” exclaimed Mr. Damon.

  “Start from here as soon as possible,” decided Abe.