The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Stand by to help her, Koku!” called Ned to the giant.

  “I help,” was the giant’s simple reply, and as the woman’s head came above the rail, over which the rope ran, Koku, leaning forward, raised her in his powerful arms, and set her carefully on the deck.

  “Come into the cabin, please,” Ned called to her. “Come in out of the wet.”

  “Oh, it seems a miracle that we are saved!” the woman gasped, as, rain-drenched and wind-tossed, she staggered toward the door which Tom had opened by means of a lever in the pilot house. The young inventor had his hands full, manipulating the airship so as to keep it above the motor boat, and not bring too great a strain on the rope.

  The woman passed into the cabin, which was between the motor room and the pilot house, and Ned saw her throw herself on her knees, and offer up a fervent prayer of thanksgiving. Then, springing to her feet, she cried:

  “My husband? Is he safe? Can you save him? Oh, how wonderful that this airship came in answer to our appeals to Providence. Whose is it?”

  Before Ned got a chance to answer her, as she came to the door of the motor room, a man’s voice called:

  “My wife! Is she safe?”

  “Yes, here I am,” replied the woman, and a moment later the two were in each other’s arms.

  “The others; are they safe?” gasped the woman, after a pause.

  “Yes,” replied the man. “They are coming up the rope. Oh, what a wonderful rescue! And that giant man who lifted us up on deck! Oh, do you recall in Africa how we were also rescued by airship—”

  “Come on now, I got you!” interrupted the voice of Koku out on the after deck, and there was a series of thumps that told when he had lifted the men over the rail, and set them down.

  “All saved!” cried the giant at last.

  “Then cut the rope!” shouted Tom. “We’ve got to get out of this, for it’s growing worse!”

  There was the sound of a hatchet blow, and the airship shot upward. Into the cabin came the dripping figures of the other men, and Ned, as he stood by the great searchlight, felt a wave of wonder sweep over him as he listened to the voices of the first man and woman.

  He knew he had heard them before, and, when he listened to the remark about a rescue by airship, in Africa, a flood of memory came to him.

  “Can it be possible that these are the same missionaries whom Tom and I rescued from the red pygmies?” he murmured. “I must get a look at them.”

  “Our boat, it is gone I suppose,” remarked one of the other men, coming into the motor room.

  “I’m afraid so,” answered Ned, as he played the light on the doomed craft. Even as he did so he saw a great wave engulf her, and, a moment later she sank. “She’s gone,” he said softly.

  “Too bad!” exclaimed the man. “She was a fine little craft. But how in the world did you happen along to rescue us? Whose airship is this?”

  “Tom Swift’s,” answered Ned, and, at the sound of the name the woman uttered a cry, as she rushed into the motor room.

  “Tom Swift!” she exclaimed. “Where is he? Oh, can it be possible that it is the same Tom Swift that rescued us in Africa?”

  “I think it is, Mrs. Illingway,” spoke Ned quietly, for he now recognized the missionary, though he wondered what she and her husband were doing so far from the Dark Continent.

  “Oh, I know you—you’re Ned Newton—Tom’s chum! Oh, I am so glad! Where is Tom?”

  “In the pilot house. He’ll be here in a moment.”

  Tom came in at that juncture, having set the automatic steering geer to take the ship on her homeward course.

  “Are they all saved?” he asked, looking at the little group of persons who had climbed up from the motor boat. “Mr. Damon, you had better make some hot coffee. Koku, you help. I—”

  “Tom Swift!” cried out Mr. and Mrs. Illingway together, as they made a rush for the young inventor. “Don’t you know us?”

  To say that Tom was surprised at this, would be putting it mildly. He had to lean up against the side of the cabin for support.

  “Mrs. Illingway!” he gasped. “You here—were you in that boat?”

  “Yes. it’s all very simple. My husband and I are on a vacation for a year. We got fever and had to leave Africa. We are staying with friends at a resort on the lake shore. These are our friends,” she went on, introducing the other gentlemen.

  “We went out for a trip in the motor boat,” the missionary continued, “but we went too far. Our motor broke down, we could get no help, and the storm came up. We thought we were doomed, until we saw your lights. I guessed it was a balloon, or some sort of an airship, and we whistled; and called for help. Then you rescued us! Oh, it is almost too wonderful to believe. It is a good thing I have practiced athletics or I never could have climbed that rope.”

  “It is like a story from a book!” added Mr. Illingway, as he grasped Tom’s hand. “You rescued us in Africa and again here.” I may say here that the African rescue is told in detail in the volume entitled, “Tom Swift and His Electric Rifle.”

  The shipwrecked persons were made as comfortable as possible. There was plenty of room for them, and soon they were sitting around warm electric heaters, drinking hot coffee, and telling their adventures over again. Mr. and Mrs. Illingway said they soon expected to return to Africa.

  Tom told how he happened to be sailing over the lake, on the lookout for smugglers, and how he had been disappointed.

  “And it’s a good thing you were—for our sakes,” put in Mrs. Illingway, with a smile.

  “Where do you want to be landed?” asked Tom. “I don’t want to take you all the way back to Logansville.”

  “If you will land us anywhere near a city or town, we can arrange to be taken back to our cottage,” said one of the men, and Tom sent the airship down until, in the gray dawn of the morning, they could pick out a large village on the lake shore. Then, in much better condition than when they had been saved, the rescued ones alighted, showering Tom and the others with thanks, and sought a hotel.

  “And now for our camp, and a good rest!” cried the young inventor, as he sent the airship aloft again.

  They reached their camp in the forest clearing without having been observed, as far as they could learn, and at once set about making things snug, for the storm was still raging.

  “I don’t believe any of the smugglers were abroad last night,” remarked Mr. Whitford, as he prepared to go back into town, he having come out on horseback, leaving the animal over night in an improvised stable they had made in the woods of boughs and tree branches.

  “I hope not,” replied Tom, but the next day, when the government agent called again, his face wore a look of despair.

  “They put a big one over on us the night of the rescue.” he said. “They flew right across the border near Logansville, and got away with a lot of goods. They fooled us all right.”

  “Can you find out who gave the wrong tip?” asked Tom.

  “Yes, I know the man. He pretended to be friendly to one of my agents, but he was only deceiving him. But we’ll get the smugglers yet!”

  “That’s what we will!” cried Tom, determinedly.

  Several days passed, and during the night time Tom, in his airship, and with the great searchlight aglow, flew back and forth across the border, seeking the elusive airships, but did not see them. In the meanwhile he heard from Mr. and Mrs. Illingway, who sent him a letter of thanks, and asked him to come and see them, but, much as Tom would liked to have gone, he did not have the time.

  It was about a week after the sensational rescue, when one evening, as Tom was about to get ready for a night flight, he happened to be in the pilot house making adjustments to some of the apparatus.

  Mr. Damon and Ned had gone out for a walk in the woods, and Mr. Whitford had not yet arrived. As for Mr. Koku, Tom did not know where his giant servant was.

  Suddenly there was a commotion outside. A trampling in the bushes, and the breaking of sticks unde
r feet.

  “I got you now!” cried the voice of the giant.

  Tom sprang to the window of the pilot house. He saw Koku tightly holding a man who was squinting about, and doing his best to break away. But it was useless. When Koku got hold of any one, that person had to stay.

  “What is it, Koku!” cried Tom.

  “I got him!” cried the giant. “He sneaking up on airship, but I come behind and grab him,” and Koku fairly lifted his prisoner off his feet and started with him toward the Falcon.

  CHAPTER XVII

  WHAT THE INDIAN SAW

  “Hello!” cried Tom. “What’s up, Koku?”

  “Him up!” replied the giant with a laugh, as he looked at his squirming prisoner, whose feet he had lifted from the ground.

  “No, I mean what was he doing?” went on Tom, with a smile at the literal way in which the giant had answered his question.

  “I wasn’t doing anything!” broke in the man. “I’d like to know if I haven’t a right to walk through these woods, without being grabbed up by a man as big as a mountain? There’ll be something up that you won’t like, if you don’t let me go, too!” and he struggled fiercely, but he was no match for giant Koku.

  “What was he doing?” asked Tom of his big servant, ignoring the man. Tom looked closely at him, however, but could not remember to have seen him before.

  “I walking along in woods, listen to birds sing,” said Koku simply, taking a firmer hold on his victim. “I see this fellow come along, and crawl through grass like so a snake wiggle. I to myself think that funny, and I watch. This man he wiggle more. He wiggle more still, and then he watch. I watch too. I see him have knife in hand, but I am no afraid. I begin to go like snake also, but I bigger snake than he.”

  “I guess so,” laughed Tom, as he watched the man trying in vain to get out of Koku’s grip.

  “Then I see man look up at balloon bag, so as if he like to cut it with knife. I say to myself, ‘Koku, it is time for you to go into business for yourself.’ You stand under me?”

  “I understand!” exclaimed Tom. “You thought it was time for you to get busy.”

  “Sure,” replied Koku. “Well, I get business, I give one jump, and I am so unlucky as to jump with one foot on him, but I did not mean it. I go as gentle as I can.”

  “Gentle? You nearly knocked the wind out of me!” snarled the prisoner. “Gentle! Huh!”

  “I guess he was the unlucky one, instead of you,” put in Tom. “Well, what happened next?”

  “I grab him, and—he is still here,” said Koku simply. “He throw knife away though.”

  “I see,” spoke Tom. “Now will you give an account of yourself, or shall I hand you over to the police?” he asked sternly of the man. “What were you sneaking up on us in that fashion for?”

  “Well, I guess this isn’t your property!” blustered the man. “I have as good a right here as you have, and you can’t have me arrested for that.”

  “Perhaps not,” admitted Tom. “You may have a right on this land, but if you are honest, and had no bad intentions, why were you sneaking up, trying to keep out of sight? And why did you have a big knife?”

  “That’s my business, young man.”

  “All right, then I’ll make it my business, too,” went on the young inventor. “Hold him, Koku, until I can find Mr. Damon, or Ned, and I’ll see what’s best to be done. I wish Mr. Whitford was here.”

  “Aren’t you going to let me go?” demanded the man.

  “I certainly am not!” declared Tom firmly. “I’m going to find out more about you. I haven’t any objections to any one coming to look at my airship, out of curiosity, but when they come up like a snake in the grass and with a big knife, then I get suspicious, and I want to know more about them.”

  “Well, you won’t know anything more about me!” snarled the fellow. “And it will be the worse for you, if you don’t let me go. You’d better!” he threatened.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him, Koku,” said Tom. “Maybe you’d better tie him up. You’ll find some rope in the motor room.”

  “Don’t you dare tie me up!” blustered the prisoner.

  “Go ahead and tie him,” went on Tom. “You’ll be free to guard the ship then. I’ll go for Ned and Mr. Damon.”

  “Tie who up? What’s the matter?” asked a voice, and a moment later the government agent came along the woodland path on his horse. “What’s up, Tom? Have you captured a wild animal?”

  “Not exactly a wild animal. Mr. Whitford. But a wild man. I’m glad you came along. Koku has a prisoner.” And Tom proceeded to relate what had happened.

  “Sneaking up on you with a knife; eh? I guess he meant business all right, and bad business, too,” said Mr. Whitford. “Let me get a look at him, Tom,” for Koku had taken his prisoner to the engine room, and there, amid a storm of protests and after a futile struggle on the part of the fellow, had tied him securely.

  Tom and the custom officer went in to look at the man, just as Ned and Mr. Damon came back from their stroll in the woods. It was rapidly getting dusk, and was almost time for the start of the usual flight, to see if any trace could be had of the smugglers.

  “There he is,” said Tom, waving his hand toward the bound man who sat in a chair in one corner of the motor room. The young inventor switched on the light, and a moment later Mr. Whitford exclaimed:

  “Great Scott! It’s Ike Shafton!”

  “Do you know him?” asked Tom eagerly.

  “Know him? I should say I did! Why he’s the man who pretended to give one of my men information about smugglers that drew us off on the false scent. He pretended to be for the government, and, all the while, he was in with the smugglers! Know him? I should say I did!”

  A queer change had come over the prisoner at the sight of Mr. Whitford. No longer was Shafton surly and blustering. Instead he seemed to slink down in his chair, bound as he was, as if trying to get out of sight.

  “Why did you play double?” demanded the government agent, striding over to him.

  “I—I—don’t hit me!” whined Shafton.

  “Hit you! I’m not going to hit you!” exclaimed Mr. Whitford, “but I’m going to search you, and then I’m going to wire for one of my men to take you in custody.”

  “I—I didn’t do anything!”

  “You didn’t; eh? Well, we’ll see what the courts think of giving wrong information to Uncle Sam with the intent to aid criminals. Let’s see what he’s got in his pockets.”

  The spy did not have much, but at a sight of one piece of paper Mr. Whitford uttered a cry of surprise.

  “Ha! This is worth something!” he exclaimed. “It may be stale news, and it may be something for the future, but it’s worth trying. I wonder I didn’t think of that before.”

  “What is it?” asked Tom.

  For answer the custom officer held out a scrap of paper on which was written one word.

  St. Regis.

  “What does it mean,” asked Ned, who, with Mr. Damon, had entered the motor room, and stood curiously regarding the scene.

  “Bless my napkin ring!” said the odd man. “That’s the name of a hotel. Do you suppose the smugglers are stopping there?”

  “Hardly,” replied Mr. Whitford with a smile. “But St. Regis is the name of an Indian reservation in the upper part of New York state, right on the border, and in the corner where the St. Lawrence and the imaginary dividing line between New York and Canada join. I begin to see things now. The smugglers have been flying over the Indian Reservation, and that’s why they have escaped us so far. We never thought of that spot. Tom, I believe we’re on the right track at last! Shafton was probably given this to inform him where the next trick would be turned, so he could get us as far away as possible, or, maybe prevent us leaving at all.”

  An involuntary start on the part of the prisoner seemed to confirm this, but he kept silent.

  “Of course,” went on Mr. Whitford, “they may have already flown over the St. Regis
reservation, and this may be an old tip, but it’s worth following up.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Tom wanted to know, as he nodded toward Shafton.

  “He wouldn’t tell the truth. I’ll put him where he can’t get away to warn his confederates, and then we’ll go to the reservation. And to think that my man trusted him!”

  Mr. Whitford was soon in communication with his headquarters by means of the wireless apparatus on Tom’s airship, and a little later two custom officers arrived, with an extra horse on which they were to take their prisoner back.

  “And now we’ll try our luck once more,” said Mr. Whitford as his men left with Shafton securely bound. “Can you make the reservation in good time, Tom? It’s quite a distance,” and he pointed it out on the map.

  “Oh, I’ll do it,” promised the young inventor, as he sent his powerful craft aloft in the darkness. Then, with her nose pointed in the right direction, the Falcon beat her way forward through the night, flying silently, with the great searchlight ready for instant use.

  In comparatively short time, though it was rather late at night, they reached the St. Lawrence, and then it was an easy matter to drop down into the midst of the reservation grounds. Though the redmen, whom the state thus quartered by themselves, had all retired, they swarmed out of their cabins as the powerful light flashed back and forth.

  “We want to question some of the head men of the tribe,” said Mr. Whitford. “I know some of them, for on several occasions I’ve had to come here to look into rumors that tobacco and liquor and other contraband goods dear to the Indian heart were smuggled into the reservation against the law. I never caught any of them at it though.”

  With guttural exclamations, and many grunts of surprise, the redmen gathered around the big airship. It was too much even for their usual reserve, and they jabbered among themselves.

  “How Big Foot!” greeted the custom officer, to one Indian who had an extremely large left foot. “How!”

  “How!” responded the Indian, with a grunt.