The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Is it all right?” this strange-appearing man asked of Mr. Damon.

  “I believe so,” replied the odd gentleman. “Come in, Sam.”

  With one bound, though the window was some distance from the ground, the little man leaped into the library. He landed lightly on his feet, quickly turned two hand springs in rapid succession, and then, without breathing in the least rapidly, as most men would have done after that exertion, he made a low bow to Tom and Ned.

  “Boys, let me introduce you to my friend, Sam Preston, an old acrobat and now a circus proprietor,” said Mr. Damon. “Mr. Preston, this is Tom Swift, of whom I told you, and his chum, Ned Newton.”

  “And will they get the giant for me?” asked the circus man quickly.

  “I think they will,” replied Mr. Damon. “I had a little difficulty in making the matter clear to them, and that’s why I sent for you. You can explain everything.”

  “Have a chair,” invited Tom politely. “This is a new one on me—going after giants. I’ve done almost everything else, though.”

  “So Mr. Damon said,” spoke Mr. Preston gravely. He was much more sedate and composed than one would have supposed after his sensational entrance into the room. “I am very glad to meet you, Tom Swift, and I hope we can do business together. Now, if you have a few minutes to spare, I’ll tell you all I know about giant land.”

  CHAPTER III

  TOM WILL GO

  “Jove! That sounds interesting!” exclaimed Ned, as he settled himself comfortably in his chair.

  “It is interesting,” replied the circus man. “At least I found it so when I first listened to one of my men tell it. But whether it is possible to get to giant land, and, what is more bring away some of the big men, is something I leave to you, Tom Swift. After you have heard my story, if you decide to go, I’ll stand all the expenses of fitting out an expedition, and if you fail I won’t have a word to say. If, on the other hand, you bring me back a giant or two, I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars and all expenses. Is it a bargain?”

  “Let me hear the story first,” suggested our hero, who was a cautious lad when there was need for it. Yet he liked Mr. Preston, even at first sight, in spite of his “loud” attire, and the rather “circusy” manner in which he had entered the room. Then too, if he was a friend of Mr. Damon, that was a great deal in his favor.

  “I am, as you know, in the circus business,” began Mr. Preston. “I have a number of traveling shows, and several large museums in the big cities. I am always on the lookout for new attractions, for the public demands them. Once get in the rut of having nothing new, and your business will fall off. I know, for I’ve been in the business, man and boy, for nearly forty years. I began as a performer, and I can still do a double somersault over fifteen elephants in a row. I always keep in practice for there’s nothing like showing a performer how to do a thing yourself.”

  “But about the giants, which is what I’m interested in most now. Of course I’ve had giants in my circuses and museums, from the beginning. The public wanted ’em and we had to have ’em. Some of ’em were fakes—men on stilts with long pants to cover up their legs, and others were the real, genuine, all-wool-and-a-yard-wide article. But none of them were very big. A shade under eight feet was the limit with me.”

  “I also have lots of wild animals, and it was when some of my men were out after some tapirs, jaguars and leopards that I got on the track of the giants. It was about a year ago, but up to this time I haven’t seen my way clear to send after the big men. It was this way:”

  Mr. Preston assumed a more comfortable position in his chair, nodded at Mr. Damon, who was listening attentively to all that was said, and resumed.

  “As I said I had sent Jake Poddington, one of my best men, after tapirs and some other South American animals. He didn’t have very good luck hunting along the Amazon. In the first place that region has been pretty well cleaned out of circus animals, and another thing it’s getting too well populated. Another thing is that you can’t get the native hunters and beaters to work for you as they did years ago.”

  “So Poddington wrote to me that he was going to take his assistants, make a big jump, and hike it for the Argentine Republic. He had a tip that along the Salado river there might be something doing, and I told him to go ahead.”

  “He shipped me what few animals he had, and lit out for a three thousand mile journey. I didn’t hear from him for some time, and, when I did, I got the finest collection of animals I had ever laid eyes on. I got them about the same time I did a letter from Jake, for the mail service ain’t what you could call rushing in that part of South America.”

  “But what about the giants?” interrupted Mr. Damon.

  “I’m coming to them,” replied the circus man calmly. “It was this way: At the tail of his letter which he sent with the shipment of animals Jake said this, and I remember it almost word for word:”

  “‘If all goes well,’ he wrote, ‘I’ll have a big surprise for you soon. I’ve heard a story about a race of big natives that have their stamping ground in this section, and I’m going to try for a few specimens. I know how much you want a giant.’”

  “Well?” asked Tom, after a pause, for the circus man had ceased talking and was staring out of the opened library window into the garden that was just becoming green.

  “That was all I ever heard from poor Jake,” said Mr. Preston softly.

  “Bless my insurance policy!” gasped Mr. Damon. “You didn’t tell me that! What happened to him.”

  “I never could find out,” resumed Mr. Preston. “I never heard another word from him, and I’ve never seen him from the time I parted with him to go after the animals. The letter saying he was going after the giants was the last line of his I’ve seen.”

  “But didn’t you try to locate him?” asked Tom. “Didn’t he have some companions—some one who could tell what became of him?”

  “Of course I tried!” exclaimed Mr. Preston. “Do you think I’d let a man like Jake disappear without making some effort to find him? But he was the only white man in his party, the rest were natives. That was Jake’s way. Well, when some time past and I didn’t hear from him, I got busy. I wrote to our consuls and even some South American merchants with whom I had done business. But it didn’t amount to anything.”

  “Couldn’t you get any news?” asked Ned softly.

  “Oh, yes, some, but it didn’t amount to much. After a long time, and no end of trouble, I had a man locate a native named Zacatas, who was the head beater of the black men under Jake.”

  “Zacatas said that he and Jake and the others got safely to the Salado river section, but I knew that before, for that was where the fine shipment of animals came from. Then Jake got that tip about the giants, and set off alone into the interior to locate them, for all the natives were afraid to go. That was the last seen of poor Jake.”

  “Bless my fire shovel!” cried Mr. Damon. “What did Zacatas say became of the poor fellow?”

  “No one knew. Whether he reached giant land and was killed there, or whether he was struck down by some wild beast in the jungle, I never could find out. The natives under Zacatas waited in camp for him for some time, and then went back to the Amazon region where they belonged. That’s all the news I could get.”

  “But I’m sure there are giants in the interior of South America, for Jake always knew what he was talking about. Now I want to do two things. I want to get on the trail of poor Jake Poddington if I can, and I want a giant—two or three of them if it can be managed.”

  “Ever since Jake disappeared I’ve been trying to arrange things to make a search for him, and for the giants, but up to now something has been in the way. I happened to mention the matter to my friend, Mr. Damon, and he at once spoke of you, Tom Swift.”

  “Now, what I want to know is this: Will you undertake to get a giant for me, rescue Jake Poddington if he is alive in the interior of South America, or, if he is dead, find out how it happened and give him
decent burial? Will you do this, Tom Swift?”

  There was a silence in the room following the dramatic and simple recital of the circus man. Tom was strangely moved, as was his chum Ned As for Mr. Damon, he was softly blessing every thing he could think of.

  Tom looked out of the long, opened windows of the library. In fancy he could see the forest and jungles of South America. He saw a sluggish river flowing along between rank green banks, while, from the overhanging trees, long festoons of moss hung down, writhing now and then as the big water anacondas or boa constrictors looped their sinuous folds over the low limbs.

  In fancy he saw dark-skinned natives slinking along with their deadly blow guns, and poisoned arrows. He thought he could hear the low growls and whines of the treacherous jaguars and see their lithe bodies slinking along. He saw the brilliant-hued flowers, saw the birds of gorgeous plumage, and listened in fancy to their discordant cries.

  Then, too, he saw a lonely white man in a miserable native hut thousands of miles from civilization, waiting, waiting, waiting for he knew not what fate. Again he saw monstrous men stalking along—men who towered ten feet or more, and who were big and brawny. All this passed through the mind of Tom in an instant.

  “Well?” asked Mr. Preston softly.

  “I’ll go!” suddenly cried the young inventor. “I don’t know whether I can get you a giant or not, Mr. Preston, but if it’s possible I’ll get poor Jake Poddington, dead or alive!”

  “Good!” cried the circus man, jumping up and clasping Tom’s hand. “I thought you were that kind of a lad, after I heard Mr. Damon describe you. You’ve taken a big load off my heart, Tom Swift. Now to talk of ways and means! I’ll have a giant yet, and maybe I’ll get back the best man who ever shipped a consignment of wild animals, good Jake Poddington! Now to business!”

  CHAPTER IV

  “LOOK OUT FOR MY RIVAL!”

  “You’ll go in an airship of course; won’t you, Tom?” asked Mr. Damon, when they had pulled their chairs up around a library table, and Mr. Preston had taken some papers from his pocket.

  “An airship? No, I don’t believe I shall,” replied the young inventor. “In the first place, I’m a bit tired of scooting through the air so much, though it isn’t to be denied that it’s the quickest way of going. But in South America there are so many jungles that it will be hard to find a level starting ground for a take-off, after we land. Of course we could go up as a balloon, but this expedition is going to be different from any we were ever on before.”

  “How so?” asked Ned.

  “Well, in the first place we’ve got to start at one end of a trail, and make careful inquiries all along the way. It isn’t like when we went for the city of gold. There we had to look for a certain ruined temple, which was the landmark. When we went after the platinum in Siberia we had to look for the place of the high winds, so I could use my air glider. But now we’re trying to locate a man who traveled on foot through the jungles, and if we went in an airship we might just miss the connecting link.”

  “So, I think the best way will be to do just as Mr. Poddington did—travel on foot or by horses and mules, and go slowly, making inquiries from time to time. Then we may get to giant land, we may find him.”

  “I don’t hope for all that,” said the circus man, “but if you can only get some news of him it will be a relief. If he died peaceably it would be better than to be a captive among some of those savage tribes. It’s been a year now since I heard the last of him. But I agree with Tom that an airship won’t be much good in the jungle. You might take along a small one, if you could pack it, to scare the natives with. In fact it might be a good thing to show to the giants, if you find them.”

  “That is my idea,” declared Tom. “I’ll take the Lark with me. That’s a mighty powerful machine for its size, and it can be taken apart in sections. It will carry three on a pinch, and I have had five in her with two auxiliary seats. I’ll take the Lark, and she may come in handy.”

  “When can you start?” asked Mr. Preston.

  “As soon as we can fit out an expedition,” answered Tom. “It oughtn’t to take long. I don’t have to build an air glider this time. It won’t take long to take the Lark apart. I haven’t finished work on my noiseless airship yet, but that can wait. Yes, we’ll be ready as soon as you want us to start, Mr. Preston.”

  “It can’t be too soon for me. I’ll deposit a certain sum in the bank to your credit, Tom, and you can draw on it for expenses. I’ll pay any amount to get word of poor Jake, to say nothing of having a giant for my circus. Now as to ways of getting there. Have you a large map of South America?”

  Tom had one, and he and the others were pouring over it when Tom’s father came into the room.

  “Well, well!” he exclaimed. “What’s this? What are you up to now, Tom, my boy? Mrs. Baggert said you took down the South American map. What’s up?”

  “Lots, dad? I’m going after giants this time!”

  “Giants, Tom? Are you joking?”

  “Not a bit of it, Mr. Swift,” answered Mr. Damon. “Bless my check book! I believe if some one wanted the moon Tom Swift would try to get it for them.”

  Then Mr. Swift noticed the stranger present, and was introduced to the circus man.

  “Is it really true, Tom,” asked the aged inventor, when the story had been related, “are you going to have a try for giant land?”

  “That’s what I am, dad, and I wish you were going along.”

  “No, Tom, I’m getting too old for that. But I did hope you’d stay home for a while, and help me work on my gyroscope invention. It is almost completed.”

  “I will help you, dad, as soon as I get back with a giant or two. Who knows? maybe I’ll get one myself.”

  “What would you do with one?” asked Ned with a laugh.

  “Have him help Eradicate,” answered the young inventor. “Rad is getting pretty old, and he needs an assistant.”

  “But are these giants black?” asked Mr. Swift.

  “That’s a point I don’t know,” answered the circus man frankly. “Jake didn’t say in his letter. They may be black, white or midway between. That’s what Tom has got to find out for us.”

  “And I’ll do it!” exclaimed our hero. “Now let’s see. I suppose the best plan would be to take a ship right to the Rio de la Plata, landing say at Buenos Ayres or Montevideo, and then organize an expedition to strike into the interior.”

  “Why don’t you do just as Mr. Poddington did?” asked Ned, “start from the Amazon and work south?”

  “It would take too long,” declared Tom. “We know that the giants are somewhere in the northern part of Argentina, or in Paraguay or Uruguay. Or they may be on the other side of the Uruguay river in Brazil. It’s quite a stretch of territory, and we’ve got to take our time exploring it. That’s why I don’t want to waste time working down from the Amazon. We’ll go right to Buenos Ayres, I think.”

  “That’s what I’d do,” advised the old circus man. “Now I can give you some points on what to take, and how to act when you get there. The South Americans are a queer people—very nice when treated right, but very bad if not,” and then he told some of his experiences as a circus man in South America, for he had traveled there.

  “I’d go again, if my business didn’t keep me here,” he concluded, “for I’d ask nothing better than to hunt for giant land, or try to rescue poor Jake. But I can’t. I’m depending on you, Tom Swift.”

  “What’s that? Giant land?” exclaimed Mrs. Baggert, the motherly housekeeper, as she came in to announce that dinner was ready. “You don’t mean to tell me, Tom, that you’re going off again?”

  “That’s what I am, Mrs. Baggert. You’d better put me up a few sandwiches, for I don’t know when I’ll be back,” and Tom winked at his chum.

  “Oh, of all things I ever heard in all my born days!” cried the housekeeper, throwing up her hands. “Will you ever settle down, Tom Swift?”

  “Maybe he will when Miss Mary N
estor is ready to settle down too,” said Ned mischievously, referring to a girl of whom Tom was very fond.

  “Say, I’ll fix you for that!” cried our hero, as he made an unsuccessful grab for Ned. “But, Mrs. Baggert, can you put on a couple of extra plates? Mr. Damon and Mr. Preston will stay to lunch.”

  “Not if it’s going to put you out, Tom,” objected the circus man. “I can go to the hotel, and—”

  “No, indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Baggert graciously, for she prided herself on her housekeeping arrangements, and she used to say that unexpected company never “flustrated” her. Soon the little party was seated around the table, where the talk went from grave to gay, the subject of the giants being uppermost.

  Mr. Preston told many funny stories of his circus days, and some of them had the spice of danger in them, for he had been all over the world, either as a performer or as the owner of amusement enterprises.

  “Now, the next question to be settled,” said the old circus man, when they were once more gathered in the library, “is how many are going?”

  “I am, for one!” exclaimed Ned quickly. “I’m sure my folks will let me. Especially as we aren’t going to use an airship, but will travel just as ordinary folks do.”

  “Except in case of emergency,” explained Tom. “We’ll have the Lark to use if we need her.”

  “Oh, of course,” agreed Ned. “How about you, Mr. Damon? Will you go?”

  The odd man looked around the room before replying, as though he feared someone might be listening on the sly.

  “Go on, Andy Foger isn’t here,” invited Tom with a laugh.

  “I’ll go—if I can pursuade my wife to let me,” said the odd man in a whisper, as if, even then, the good lady might overhear him. “I’m not going to say anything about giants. I’ll tell her we are going to rescue a poor fellow from—er—well from the natives of South America, and I’m sure she’ll consent. Of course I’ll go.”