The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Yes, and I think we’re closing in on them a little.”

  “That’s good. Are they still headed for the border?”

  “Yes, I guess they’re going to take no chances tonight. They’re going right back to Canada where they came from.”

  “Well, we’ll be hot after ’em. Whistle through the tube, and tell Koku to come here and give me a hand. He’s with Mr. Damon in the pilot house.”

  Ned sent the message, and then gave his whole attention to the light. This was necessary, as the smugglers were resorting to dodging tactics, in an endeavor to escape. Now they would shoot upward, and again toward the earth, varying the performance by steering to the right or left. Ned had constantly to shift the light to keep them in focus, so that Mr. Damon could see where to steer, but, with all this handicap, the eccentric man did very well, and he was never far out in his judgment.

  “By Jove!” suddenly murmured Tom, as he tried once more in vain to open a clogged valve. “I’m afraid we can’t do it. Koku, lend a hand here!” he exclaimed as the giant entered. “See if you can twist this wrench around, but don’t break off the handle, whatever you do.”

  “Me shove,” replied the giant simply, as he grasped the big wrench.

  Once more Ned glanced at the pressure gage. It showed seven hundred pounds now, and there was only a margin of safety of one hundred pounds more, ere a terrific explosion would occur. Still Tom had not given the order to descend to earth.

  “Are you going to make it, Tom?” asked the government agent, anxiously, as he stood over the young inventor.

  “I—I think so,” panted Tom. “Are we near the Dominion line,”

  “Pretty close,” was the discouraging answer. “I’m afraid we can’t get ’em before they cross. Can you use any more speed?”

  “I don’t know. Ned, see if you can get another notch out of her.”

  With one hand Ned reached for the accelerator lever on the wall near him, and pulled it to the last notch. The Falcon shot ahead with increased speed, but, at the same instant there came a gasp from Koku, and the sound of something breaking.

  “There! He’s done it!” cried Tom in despair. “I was afraid you’d be too strong for that wrench, Koku. You’ve broken off the handle. Now we’ll never be able to loosen that valve.”

  Ned gave one more glance at the pressure gage. It showed seven hundred and fifty pounds, and the needle was slowly moving onward.

  “Hadn’t we better descend,” asked Mr. Whitford in a low voice.

  “I—I guess so,” answered Tom, despairingly. “Where are we?”

  Ned flashed the light downward for an instant.

  “Just crossing over the St. Regis Indian reservation again,” he replied. “We’ll be in Canada in a few minutes more.”

  “Where are the smugglers?”

  “Still ahead, and they’re bearing off to the right.”

  “Going toward Montford,” commented the government man. “We’ve lost ’em for tonight, anyhow, but they didn’t get their goods landed, at any rate.”

  “Send her down, Ned!” exclaimed Tom, and it was high time, for the pressure was now within twenty-five pounds of the exploding point.

  Down shot the Falcon, while her rival passed onward triumphantly in the darkness. Ned held the light on the smugglers as long as he dared, and then he flashed it to earth to enable Mr. Damon to pick out a good landing place.

  In a few moments Tom’s silent airship came to rest on a little clearing in the forest, and Tom, with Ned’s help, at once opened every outlet of the gas machine, a thing they had not dared do while up in the air.

  “Come on, now, run, everybody!” cried Tom. “Otherwise you’ll he smothered!”

  They leaped from the craft, about which gathered the fumes of the powerful gas, as it hissed from the pipes. Running a hundred yards away they were safe, and could return in a few minutes.

  “We’re in Canada,” remarked Mr. Whitford, as they came to a halt, watching the airship.

  “How do you know?” asked Ned.

  “As we landed I saw one of the stone boundary posts,” was the answer. “We’re on English territory, and we can’t touch the smugglers if we should see them now.”

  “Well, we’ll soon be back in Uncle Sam’s land,” declared Tom. “We can go back on board the Falcon to sleep shortly. Jove! I wish I could have caught those fellows!”

  “Never mind, we’ll get ’em yet,” counseled Mr. Whitford.

  Waiting until he was sure all the vapor had disappeared, Tom led the way back to the Falcon. No great harm had been done, save to lose considerable gas, and this could be remedied. Tired and disappointed from the chase, they sought their bunks, and were soon asleep. In the morning Tom and Ned began work on the clogged pipes.

  This work was nearly accomplished by noon, when Mr. Damon, coming back from a stroll, announced that they were but fifteen minutes walk from the St. Lawrence River, as he had seen the sparkling waters from a neighboring hill.

  “Let’s go over and have a look at it,” proposed Ned. “We can easily finish this when we get back. Besides, Tom, we don’t want to get to our regular camp until after dark, anyhow.”

  The young inventor was willing, and the two lads, with Mr. Whitford, strolled toward the historic stream. As they drew near the bank, they saw, anchored a little distance out, a small steamer. Approaching it, as if she had just left the shore at a point near where our friends stood, was a gasolene launch, containing several men, while on shore, in front of a small shanty, stood another man.

  This latter individual, at the sight of Tom, Ned and Mr. Whitford, blew a shrill whistle. Those in the launch looked back. The man on shore waved a red flag in a peculiar way, almost as the soldiers in the army wig-wag signals.

  In another moment the launch turned about, and put for shore, while the lone man hurried back into the hut.

  “Hum!” remarked Tom. “Those are queer actions.”

  “Suspicious actions, I should say,” said Mr. Whitford. “I’m going to see what this means.”

  CHAPTER XXI

  MR. PERIOD ARRIVES

  Greatly interested in what was about to take place, and not a little suspicious, our friends stood on the bank of the river and watched the motor boat returning. As it reached a little dock in front of the hut, the man who had waved the red flag of warning came out, and talked rapidly to those in the power craft. At the same time he pointed occasionally to Tom, Ned and the government agent.

  “This is getting interesting,” remarked Mr. Whitford. “We may have accidentally stumbled on something important Tom.”

  “See, they’re signalling to the steamer now,” spoke Ned, and, as he said this, his companions looked, and noted the man from the hut waving a white flag, in a peculiar manner. His signals were answered by those on the vessel anchored out in the stream, and, a little later, black smoke could be seen pouring from her funnel.

  “Looks as if they were getting ready to leave,” spoke Tom.

  “Yes, we seem to have started things moving around here,” observed Ned.

  “Or else we have prevented from moving,” remarked the custom agent.

  “What do you mean?” Tom wanted to know.

  “I mean that these men were evidently going to do something just as we arrived, and spoiled their plans. I would say they were going to land goods from that schooner. Now they are not.”

  “What kind of goods?” asked Ned.

  “Well, of course I’m not sure, but I should say smuggled goods.”

  “The smugglers!” cried Tom. “Why, they can’t be smugglers, for we are on Canadian territory. The river isn’t the dividing line between the Dominion and the United States at this point. The St. Lawrence lies wholly in Canada here, and the men have a right to land any goods they want to, dutiable or not.”

  “That’s just it.” put in Mr. Whitford. “They have the right, but they are afraid to exercise it, and that’s what makes me suspicious. If they were doing a straight business th
ey wouldn’t be afraid, no matter who saw them. They evidently recognize us, by description, if by no other means, and they know we are after smugglers. That’s why they stopped the bringing of goods from that vessel to shore. They want to wait until we are gone.”

  “But we couldn’t stop them from landing goods, even if they know we are working for Uncle Sam,” declared Tom.

  “That’s very true, but it is evidently their intention, not only to land goods here, which they have a perfect right to do, but to send them into the United States, which they have not a right to do without paying the duty.”

  “Then you really think they are the smugglers?” asked Ned.

  “I’m pretty sure of it. I think we have stumbled on one of the places where the goods are landed, and where they are loaded into the airships. This is the best luck we could have, and it more than makes up for not catching the rascals last night. Now we know where to get on their trail.”

  “If they don’t change the place,” observed Tom.

  “Oh, of course, we’ve got to take that chance.”

  “Here’s one of them coming over to speak to us, I guess,” remarked Tom in a low voice, as he observed the man, who had waved the flag approaching. There was no doubt of his intention for, as soon as he came within talking distance, the stranger called out:

  “What are you fellows doing here?”

  “Looking at the river,” replied Mr. Whitford, calmly.

  “Well, you’d better find some other place for a view. This is private property, and we don’t like trespassers. Get a move on—get out!”

  “Are we doing any harm?” asked the agent.

  “I didn’t say you were. This is our land, and we don’t like strangers snooping around. That’s all.”

  “Particularly when you are going to land some goods.”

  “What do you mean?” gasped the man.

  “I guess you know well enough,” was Mr. Whitford’s reply.

  The man suddenly turned, and gave a shrill whistle. Instantly, from the hut, came several men who had been in the motor boat. One or two of them had weapons.

  “I guess you’d better go now,” said the first man sharply. “You’re not in the United States now, you know.”

  “It’s easy to see that, by the politeness of the residents of this section,” put in Tom.

  “None of your back talk! Get away from here!” cried the man. “If you don’t go peaceably—”

  “Oh, we’re going,” interposed Mr. Whitford calmly. “But that isn’t saying we won’t come back. Come on, boys. We’ll get over on Uncle Sam’s territory.”

  The group of men stood silently watching them, as they filed back through the woods.

  “What do you make of it?” asked Tom of the agent.

  “I’m positive that I’m right, and that they’re the smugglers. But I can’t do anything on this side of the line. If ever I can catch them across the border, though, there’ll be a different story to tell.”

  “What had we better do?” inquired Ned.

  “Go back to our airship, and leave for Logansville. We don’t need to land until night, though, but we can make a slow trip. Is the gas machine all right again, Tom?”

  “Practically so. If that hadn’t gone back on me we would have had those fellows captured by this time.”

  “Never mind. We did our best.”

  It did not take Tom and his chum long to complete the repairs, and soon they arose in the air.

  “Let’s take a flight over where those fellows are, just to show them what we can do,” proposed Ned, and Tom and Mr. Whitford agreed to it. Soon they were circling over the hut. The launch was just starting out again, when a cry from the man who seemed to be a sort of guard, drew the attention of his confederates to the noiseless airship.

  Once more the launch was turned about, and sent back to shore, while those in it shook their fists at Tom and his friends.

  “We can play tag with ’em up here!” chuckled Ned.

  “There’s the small vessel that pulled up anchor a while ago,” remarked Mr. Whitford, pointing to the vessel which had steamed around a wooded point. “They thought we had gone for good, and they were getting ready to land the stuff. Well, we’ll know where to head for next time, when we watch for the smugglers at night.”

  Realizing that nothing more could be done, Tom sent his airship toward the camp, just outside of Loganville. But he did not land until after dark, when, making out the spot by means of the electric lights, which were set aglow automatically at dark, he descended.

  “We won’t try anything tonight,” said Mr. Whitford. “I doubt if the smugglers will themselves, after their experience last night. I’ll get into town, see some of my men, and come out here tomorrow night again.”

  Tom and Ned spent the following day in going carefully over the Falcon, making some slight repairs. The great searchlight was cleaned and adjusted, and then, as dusk came on once more Tom remarked:

  “Well, we’re ready for ’em any time Mr. Whitford is.”

  Hardly had he spoken than the tramp of horses’ feet was heard coming along the bridle path through the woods, and a voice was heard to exclaim:

  “There, now, I understand it perfectly! You don’t need to say another word. I know it may be against the regulations, but I can fix that. I’m the busiest man in the world, but I just had to come up here and see Tom Swift. It’s costing me a thousand dollars, but the money is well spent. Now don’t interrupt me! I know what you’re going to say! That you haven’t time to bother with moving pictures. But you have! I must have some moving pictures of your chase after the smugglers. Now, don’t speak to me, I know all about it. You can’t tell me anything. I’ll talk to Tom. Are we most there?”

  “Yes, we’re here,” answered Mr. Whitford’s voice, and Tom fancied the government agent was a bit puzzled by his strange companion.

  “Bless my shoe string!” gasped Mr. Damon.

  “Him picture man!” cried Koku.

  “Mr. Period!” exclaimed Tom. “I wonder what he is doing here?” and the next moment the excitable little man, for whom Tom had run so many risks getting marvelous moving pictures, with the wizard camera, entered the clearing where the airship was anchored.

  CHAPTER XXII

  HOVERING O’ER THE BORDER

  “Well, Tom, you see I couldn’t get along without you,” exclaimed Mr. Period, as he rushed forward and grasped Tom’s hand, having alighted in rather an undignified manner from the horse that he had ridden. “I’m after you again.”

  “So I see.” remarked our hero. “But I’m afraid I can’t—”

  “Tut! Tut! Don’t say that,” interrupted the moving picture man. “I know what you’re going to say. Don’t do it! Don’t go back on me, Tom! Have you the wonderful moving picture camera with you.”

  “I have, Mr. Period, but—”

  “Now! Now! That’ll do,” broke in the excitable little man. “If you have it, that’s enough. I want you to get me some films, showing you in chase of the smugglers. They’ll be great to exhibit in our chain of theatres.”

  “How did you know I was here?” asked Tom. “Easily enough. I called at your house. Your father told me where you were. I came on. It cost me a thousand dollars—maybe more. I don’t care! I’ve got to have those films! You’ll get them for me; won’t you?”

  “Well, I—”

  “That’s enough! I know what you’re going to say. Of course you will! Now how soon may I expect them. They ought to make a good run. Say in a week?”

  “It all depends on the smugglers,” said Mr. Whitford.

  “Yes, yes! I understand, of course. I know! This friend of yours has been very kind to me, Tom. I looked him up as soon as I got to Logansville, and told him what I wanted. He offered to show me the way out here, and here I am. Let’s have a look at the camera, to see if it’s in good shape. Are you going to have a try for the smugglers tonight?”

  “I think so,” answered Tom. “As for the camera, really I�
�ve been so busy I haven’t had time to look at it since we started. I guess it’s all right. I don’t know what made me bring it along, as I didn’t expect to use it.”

  “But with your great searchlight it will be just the thing,” suggested Ned.

  “Yes, I think so,” added Mr. Whitford, who had been told about the wizard instrument.

  “Bless my detective badge!” cried Mr. Damon. “It may be just the thing, Tom. You can offer moving pictures of the smugglers in court, for evidence.”

  “Of course!” added Mr. Period. “Now, Tom, don’t disappoint me.”

  “Well, I suppose I’ll have to get the camera out, and set it up,” conceded Tom with a laugh. “As you say, Mr. Damon, the pictures may come in valuable. Come, Ned, you get out the camera, and set it up, while Koku and I see to getting the ship in shape for a flight. You’ll come along, Mr. Period?”

  “I don’t know. I was thinking of going back. I’m losing about a hundred dollars a minute by being away from my business.”

  “You’ll have to go back alone,” said Mr. Whitford, “as I have to be with Tom, in case of a capture.”

  “Ride back alone, through these woods? Never! The smugglers might catch me, and I’m too valuable a man to go that way! I’ll take a chance in the airship.”

  Ned busied himself over the wizard camera, which had been stored away, and Mr. Period went with the young bank clerk to look after the apparatus. Meanwhile Tom and Koku saw to it that the Falcon was ready for a quick flight, Mr. Damon and Mr. Whitford lending whatever aid was necessary. The horses, which the agent and Mr. Period had ridden, were tethered in the clearing where they could get food and water.

  “Did the smugglers rush anything over last night?” asked Tom.

  “No, we evidently had them frightened. But I shouldn’t be surprised but what they made the attempt tonight. We’ll go back toward the St. Regis Indian reservation, where they were getting ready to unload that steamer, and hover around the border there. Something is sure to happen, sooner or later.”

  “I guess that’s as good a plan as any,” agreed Tom, and in a little while they started.

  All that night they hovered over the border, sailing back and forth, flashing the great light at intervals to pick up the white wings of a smuggling airship. But they saw nothing.