“Stop it!” commanded Andy. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, after throwing whitewash on me.”
“I didn’t throw no whitewash on you!” protested the colored man. “Yo’ done poured it over yo’se’f, dat’s what yo’ done did. An’ I jest cain’t help laughin’, honey. I jest natchally cain’t! Yo’ look so mortally distressed, dat’s what yo’ does!”
Andy’s rage might have been dangerous, but the very excess of it rendered him incapable of doing anything. He was wild at Eradicate and would willingly have attacked him, but the whitewash was beginning to soak through his clothes, and he was so wet and miserable that soon all the fight oozed out of him.
Then, too, though Eradicate was old, he was strong and he still held the long handle of the whitewash brush, no unformidable weapon. So Andy contented himself with verbal abuse. He called Eradicate all the mean names he could think of, ending up with:
“You won’t hear the last of this for a long time, either. I’ll have you, and your old rack of bones, your mule Boomerang, run out of town, that’s what I will.”
“What’s dat? Yo’ all gwine t’hab Boomerang run out ob town?” demanded Eradicate, a sudden change coming over him. His mule was his most beloved possession. “Lemme tell yo’ one thing, Massa Andy. I’se an old colored man, an’ I ain’t much ’count mebby. But ef yo’ dare lay one finger on mah mule Boomerang, only jest one finger, mind you’, why I’ll—I’ll jest natchally drown yo’—all in whitewash, dat’s what I’ll do!”
Eradicate drew himself up proudly, and boldly faced Andy. The bully shrank back. He knew better than to arouse the colored man further.
“You’ll suffer for this,” predicted the bully. “I’m not going to forget it. Tom Swift put you up to this, and I’ll take it out of him the next time I see him. He’s to blame.”
“Now looky heah, honey!” said Eradicate quick. “Doan’t yo’ all git no sich notion laik dat in yo’ head. Massa Tom didn’t tell me to do noth’in an I ain’t. He ain’t eben ’round yeh. An’ annudder thing. Yo’se t’ blame to’ this yo’ own se’f. Ef yo’ hadn’t gone fo’ is kick de bucket it nebber would ’a happened. It’s yo’ own fault, honey, an’ doan’t yo’ forgit dat! No, yo’ better go home an’ git some dry clothes on.”
It was good advice, for Andy was soaking wet. He glared angrily at Eradicate, and then swung off down the road, the whitewash dripping from is garments at every step.
“Land a massy! But he suah did use up all mah lime.” complained Eradicate, as he picked up the overturned pail. “I’s got t’ make mo’. But I doan’t mind,” he added cheerfully, and then, as he saw the woe-begone figure of Andy shuffling along, he laughed heartily, fitted the brush on the handle and went to tell Tom and Ned what had happened, and make more whitewash.
“Hum! Served him right,” commented the young inventor.
“I suppose he’ll try to play some mean trick on you now,” commented Ned. “He’ll think you had some hand in what Rad did.”
“Let him,” answered Tom. “If he tries any of his games I’ll be ready for him.”
“Maybe we’ll soon be able to start for the city of gold,” suggested Ned.
“I’m afraid not in some time,” was his chum’s reply. “It’s going to take quite a while to get ready, and then we’ve got to wait to hear from Mr. Illingway. I wonder if it’s true that Mr. Foger has lost his fortune; or was that only a trick?”
“Oh, it’s true enough,” answered Ned. “I heard some of the bank officials talking about it the other day.” Ned was employed in one of the Shopton banks, an institution in which Tom and his father owned considerable stock. “He hasn’t hardly any money left, and he may leave town and go out west, I heard.”
“He can’t go any too soon to suit me,” spoke Tom, “and I hope he takes Andy with him.”
“Your father isn’t going to have any business dealings with Mr. Foger then?”
“I guess not. Dad doesn’t trust him. But say, Ned, what do you say to a little trip in my sky racer? I want to go over to Waterford and see Mr. Damon. We can talk about our trip, and he was going to get some big maps of Central Mexico to study. Will you come?”
“I will this afternoon. I’ve got to go to the bank now.”
“All right, I’ll wait for you. In the meanwhile I’ll be tuning up the motor. It didn’t run just right the other night.”
The two chums separated, Ned to go downtown to the bank, while Tom hastened to the shed where he kept his speedy little air craft. Meanwhile Eradicate went on whitewashing the fence, pausing every now and then to chuckle at the memory of Andy Foger.
Tom found that some minor adjustments had to be made to the motor, and they took him a couple of hours to complete. It was nearly noon when he finished, and leaving the sky racer in the open space in front of the shed, he went in the house to wash up, for his face and hands were begrimed with dirt and oil.
“But the machine’s in good shape,” he said to the housekeeper when she objected to his appearance, “and Ned and I will have a speedy spin this afternoon.”
“Oh, you reckless boys! Risking your lives in those aeroplanes!” exclaimed Mrs. Baggert.
“Why, they’re safer than street cars!” declared Tom with a laugh. “Just think how often street cars collide, and you never heard of an aeroplane doing that.”
“No, but think what happens when they fall.”
“That’s it!” cried Tom gaily, “when they fall you don’t have time to think. But is dinner ready? I’m hungry.”
“Never saw you when you weren’t.” commented the housekeeper laughing. “Yes, you can sit right down. We won’t wait for your father. He said he’d be late as he wants to find something about his gyroscope. I never did any such people as inventors for spoiling their meals,” she added as she put dinner on the table.
Mr. Swift came in before his son had finished.
“Was Andy Foger here to see me again?” he asked.
“No, why do you ask?” inquired Tom quickly.
“I just saw him out by the aeroplane shed, and—”
Tom jumped up without another word, and hurried to where his sky racer rested on its bicycle wheels.
He breathed more easily when he saw that Andy was not in sight, and a hurried inspection of the aeroplane did not disclose that it had been tampered with.
“Anything the matter?” asked Mr. Swift, as he followed his son.
“No, but when you mentioned that Andy was out here I thought he might have been up to some of his tricks. He had a little trouble with Eradicate this morning, and he threatened to get even with me for it.” And Tom told of the whitewashing incident.
“I just happened to see him as I was coming to dinner,” went on the aged inventor. “He hurried off—when he noticed me, but I thought he might have been here to leave another letter.”
“No,” said Tom. “I must tell Eradicate to keep his weather eye open for him, though. No telling what Andy’ll do. Well, I must finish eating, or Ned will be here before I’m through.”
After dinner, Ned arrived, and helped Tom start the motor. With a roar and a bang the swift little machine rapidly got up speed, the propellers whizing so fast that they looked like blurs of light. The sky racer was held back by a rope, as Tom wanted to note the “pull” of the propellers, the force they exerted against the air being registered on a spring balance.
“What does it say, Ned?” cried the young inventor as he adjusted the carburettor.
“A shade over nine hundred pounds.”
“Guess that’ll do. Hop in, and I’ll cast off from the seat.”
This Tom frequently did when there was no one available to hold the aeroplane for him while he mounted. He could pull a cord, loosen the retaining rope, and away the craft would go.
The two chums were soon seated side by side and then Tom, grasping the steering wheel, turned on full power and jerked the releasing rope.
Over the ground shot the sky racer, quickly attaining speed until, with
a deft motion, the young inventor tilted the deflecting rudder and up into the air they shot.
“Oh, this is glorious!” cried Ned, for, though he had often taken trips with Tom, every time he went up he seemed to enjoy it more.
Higher and higher they rose, and then with the sharp nose of the craft turned in the proper direction they sailed off well above the trees and houses toward Waterford.
“Guess I’ll go up a bit higher,” Tom yelled into his chums ear when they were near their destination. “Then I can make a spiral glide to earth. I haven’t practiced that lately.”
Up and up went the sky racer, until it was well over the town of Waterford, where Mr. Damon lived.
“There’s his place!” yelled Ned, pointing downward. He had to yell to be heard above the noise of the motor. Tom nodded in reply. He, too, had picked out Mr. Damon’s large estate. There were many good landing places on it, one near the house for which Tom headed.
The aeroplane shot downward, like a bird darting from the sky. Tom grasped the rudder lever more firmly. He looked below him, and then, suddenly he uttered a cry of terror.
“What is it?” yelled Ned.
“The rudder! The deflecting rudder! It’s jammed, and I can’t throw her head up! We’re going to smash into the ground, Ned! I can’t control her! Something has gone wrong!”
CHAPTER V
NEWS FROM AFRICA
Blankly, and with fear in his eyes, Ned gazed at Tom. The young inventor was frantically working at the levers, trying to loosen the jammed rudder—the rudder that enabled the sky racer to be tilted upward.
“Can’t you do it?” cried Ned.
Tom shook his head helplessly, but he did not give up. Madly he worked on, and there was need of haste, for every moment the aeroplane was shooting nearer and nearer to the earth.
Ned glanced down. They were headed for the centre of a large grass plot and the bank employee found himself grimly thinking that at least the turf would be softer to fall on than bare ground.
“I—I can’t imagine what’s happened!” cried Tom.
He was still yanking on the lever, but it would not move, and unless the head of the aeroplane was thrown up quickly, to catch the air, and check its downward flight, they would both be killed.
“Shut off the engine and vol-plane!” cried Ned.
“No use,” answered Tom. “I can’t vol-plane when I can’t throw her head up to check her.”
But he did shut off the banging, throbbing motor, and then in silence they continued to fall. Ned had half a notion to jump, but he knew that would mean instant death, and there was just a bare chance that if he stayed in the machine it would take off some of the shock.
They could see Mr. Damon now. The old man had run out of his house at the sight of the approaching aeroplane. He knew it well, for he had ridden with Tom many times. He looked up and waved his hand to the boys, but he had no idea of their danger, and he could not have helped them had he been aware of it.
He must have soon guessed that something was wrong though, for a moment later, the lads could hear him shout in terror, and could see him motion to them. Later he said he saw that Tom was coming down at too great an inclination, and he feared that the machine could not be thrown up into the wind quickly enough!
“Here goes something—the lever or the rudder!” cried Tom in desperation, as he gave it a mighty yank. Up to now he had not pulled with all his strength as he feared to break some connecting-rod, wire or lever. But now he must take every chance. “If I can get that rudder up even a little we’re safe!” he went on.
Once more he gave a terrific pull on the handle. There was a snapping sound and Tom gave a yell of delight.
“That’s the stuff!” he cried. “She’s moving! We’re all right now!”
And the rudder had moved only just in time, for when the aeroplane was within a hundred feet of the earth the head was suddenly elevated and she glided along on a level “keel.”
“Look out!” yelled Ned, for a new danger presented. They were so near the earth that Tom had over-run his original stepping place, and now the sky racer was headed directly for Mr. Damon’s house, and might crash into it.
“All right! I’ve got her in hand!” said the young inventor reassuringly.
Tom tilted the rudder at a sharp angle to have the air pressure act as a brake. At the same time he swerved the craft to one side so that there was no longer any danger of crashing into the house.
“Bless my—” began Mr. Damon, but in the excitement he really didn’t know what to bless, so he stopped short.
A moment later, feeling that the momentum had been checked enough to make it safe to land, Tom directed the craft downward again and came gracefully to earth, a short distance away from his eccentric friend.
“Whew!” gasped the young inventor, as he leaped from his seat. “That was a scary time while it lasted.”
“I should say so!” agreed Ned.
“Bless my straw hat!” cried Mr. Damon. “What happened? Did you lose control of her, Tom?”
“No, the deflecting rudder got jammed, and I couldn’t move it. I must look and see what’s the matter.”
“I thought it was all up with you,” commented Mr. Damon, as he followed Tom and Ned to the front end of the craft, where the deflecting mechanism was located.
Tom glanced quickly over it. His quick eye caught something, and he uttered an exclamation.
“Look!” the young inventor cried. “No wonder it jammed!” and from a copper sleeve, through which ran the wire that worked the rudder, he pulled a small iron bolt. “That got between the sleeve and the wire, and I couldn’t move it,” he explained. “But when I pulled hard I loosened it.”
“How did it fall in there?” asked Ned.
“It didn’t fall there.” spoke Tom quietly. “It was put there.”
“Put there! Bless my insurance policy! Who did such a dastardly trick?” cried Mr. Damon.
“I don’t know,” answered Tom still quietly, “but I suspect it was Andy Foger, and he was never any nearer to putting us out of business than a little while ago, Ned.”
“Do you mean to say that he deliberately tried to injure you?” asked Mr. Damon.
“Well, he may not have intended to hurt us, but that’s what would have happened if I hadn’t been able to throw her up into the wind when I did,” replied Tom. Then he told of Mr. Swift having seen the red-haired bully near the aeroplane. “Andy may have only intended to put my machine out of working order,” went on the young inventor, “but it might have been worse than that,” and he could not repress a shudder.
“Are you going to say anything to him?” asked Ned.
“I certainly am!” replied Torn quickly. “He doesn’t realize that he might have crippled us both for life. I sure am going to say something to him when I get back.”
But Tom did not get the chance, for when he and Ned returned to Shopton,—the sky racer behaving beautifully on the homeward trip,—it was learned that Mr. Foger had suddenly left town, taking Andy with him.
“Maybe he knew I’d be after him,” said Tom grimly, and so that incident was closed for the time being, but it was a long time before Tom and Ned got over their fright.
They had a nice visit with Mr. Damon, and talked of the city of gold to their heart’s content, looking at several large maps of Mexico that the eccentric man had procured, and locating, as well as they could from the meager map and description they had, where the underground treasures might be.
“I suppose you are getting ready to go, Mr. Damon?” remarked Ned.
“Hush!” cautioned the odd man, looking quickly around the room. “I haven’t said anything to my wife about it yet. You know she doesn’t like me to go off on these ‘wild goose chases’ as she calls them, with you, Tom Swift. But bless my railroad ticket! It’s half the fun of my life.”
“Then don’t you think you can go?” asked the young inventor eagerly, for he had formed a strong like for Mr. Damon, and wou
ld very much regret to go without him.
“Oh, bless my necktie! I think I’ll be able to manage it,” was the answer. “I’m not going to tell her anything about it until the last minute, and then I’ll promise to bring her back one of the golden images. She won’t object then.”
“Good!” exclaimed Tom. “I hope we can all bring back some of the images.”
“Yes, I know who you’ll bring one for,” said Ned with a laugh, and he took care to get beyond the reach of Tom’s fist. “Her first name is Mary,” he added.
“You get out!” laughed Tom, blushing at the same time.
“Ah! What a thing it is to be young!” exclaimed Mr. Damon with a mock sigh. The boys laughed, for the old man, though well along in years, was a boy at heart.
They talked at some length, speculating when they might hear from Mr. Illingway, and discussing the sort of an outfit that would be best to take with them.
Then, as the afternoon was drawing to a close, Tom and Ned went back in the aeroplane, hearing the news about the Fogers as I have previously mentioned.
“Well, I’ll have to wait until I do see Andy to take it out of his hide,” remarked Tom grimly. “I’m glad he’s out of the way, though. There won’t be any more danger of his overhearing our plans, and I can work in peace on the dirigible balloon.”
Though Tom had many air crafts, the one he thought best suited to take with them on their search for the city of gold would have to be constructed from parts of several machines, and it would take some time.
Tom began work on it the next day, his father helping him, as did Mr. Damon and Ned occasionally. Several weeks were spent in this way, meanwhile the mails being anxiously watched for news from Africa.
“Here you are, Tom!” called the postman one morning, as he walked out to the shop where the young inventor was busy over the balloon. “Here’s another letter from that Buggy-wuggy place.”
“Oh, you mean Gumba Twamba, in Africa!” laughed the lad. “Good! That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Now to see what the missionary says.”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 129
