Mr. Period was in despair, as he fully counted on a capture being made while he was present, so that he might see the moving pictures made. But it was not to be.
The wizard camera was all in readiness, but there was no need to start the automatic machinery. For, search as Tom and his friends did for a trace of the smugglers, they could see nothing. They put on full speed, and even went as far as the limits of the Indian reservation, but to no purpose. They heard no throbbing motor, no whizz of great propellers, and saw no white, canvas wings against the dark background of the sky, as Tom’s craft made her way noiselessly along.
“I guess we’ve frightened them away,” said Mr. Whitford dubiously, as it came near morning, and nothing suspicious had been seen or heard. “They’re holding back their goods, Tom until they think they can take us unawares. Then they’ll rush a big shipment over.”
“Then’s the time we must catch them,” declared the young inventor. “We may as well go back now.”
“And not a picture!” exclaimed Mr. Period tragically. “Well, be sure to get good ones when you do make a capture, Tom.”
“I will,” promised the young inventor. Then, with a last sweep along the border he turned the nose of his craft toward Logansville. He had almost reached the place, and was flying rather low over the country roads, when Ned called:
“Hark! I hear something!”
The unmistakable noise of a gasolene motor in operation could be distinguished.
“There they are!” cried Mr. Period.
“Bless my honeysuckle vine!” gasped Mr. Damon.
“The light, Ned, the light!” cried Tom.
His chum flashed the powerful beam all around the horizon, and toward the sky, but nothing was visible.
“Try down below,” suggested Mr. Whitford.
Ned sent the beams earthward. And there, in the glare, they saw a youth speeding along on a motor-cycle. In an instant Tom grabbed up the binoculars and focussed them on the rider.
“It’s Andy Foger!” he cried.
CHAPTER XXIII
NED IS MISSING
There was a period of silence, following Tom’s startling announcement. There were several plate glass windows in the floor of the airship, and through these they all gazed at the youth on the motor-cycle. Only Tom, however, by the aid of the glasses, was able to make out his features.
“Bless my spark plug! Andy Foger!” cried Mr. Damon. “Are you going to try to catch him?”
“Get him and break chug-chug machine!” suggested Koku.
“What do you suppose he’s up to, Tom?” asked Ned.
“Andy Foger speeding along at this hour of the morning,” remarked Mr. Whitford. “There must be something in the wind.”
“Get a moving picture of him,” urged Mr. Period. “I might be able to use that.”
“I hardly think it would be worth while,” decided Tom. “You see Andy hasn’t done anything criminal, as far as we know. Of course I think he is capable of it, but that’s a different thing. He may be out only on a pleasure jaunt, and he could stop us from showing the pictures, if we took them.”
“That’s so,” agreed Mr. Period. “Don’t run any risks of a lawsuit. It takes up too much of my time. Never mind the pictures.”
“Just capture him, Tom, and see what he is doing,” suggested Mr. Damon. “Bless my chewing gum! But he must be up to something.”
“Well, he’s aware of the fact that we’re watching him, at all events!” exclaimed Mr. Whitford, for, at that moment, Andy, having seen the glare of the light, glanced up. They could see him looking at him, and, a second later, the Shopton bully steered his machine down a side road where the overhanging trees were so thick that he could not be made out, even by the powerful gleams of the great searchlight.
“He’s gone!” gasped Ned.
“Afraid I guess,” added Mr. Damon. “That shows he was up to something wrong. Well, what are we going to do?”
“Nothing, that I can see,” spoke Mr. Whitford. “We can only go back to our camping place, and make another try. This Andy Foger may, or may not, be in with the smugglers. That’s something we have yet to prove. However, we can’t do anything now.”
In vain did Ned try to get the bully within range of the light. They could hear the sounds of the motor cycle growing more and more faint, and then, as it was rapidly getting light, and as they did not want to be seen dropping into their camping place, they made all haste toward it, before dawn should break.
“Well, I can’t spend any more time here,” declared Mr. Period, when a hasty breakfast had been served.
“Will you ride back with me?” asked Mr. Whitford of the moving picture man.
“Will I? Well, I guess I will! You can’t lose me! I’m not going to be captured by those smugglers. I’d be a valuable man for them to have as a hostage. They’d probably ask a million dollars ransom for me,” and Mr. Period carefully straightened his brilliant red necktie.
Soon he and Mr. Whitford were riding back to town, taking a roundabout way, as the agent always did, to throw any possible spies off the track.
Everyone, even including the giant Koku was tired enough to take a sleep after dinner. It was about three o’clock when Ned awoke, and he found Tom already up, and at the wireless instrument, which was clicking and buzzing.
“Message coming?” asked the young bank clerk.
Tom nodded, and clasped the receiver over his ear. A moment later he began jotting down a message.
“Mr. Whitford says he has a tip that something is going to take place tonight,” read the young inventor a few minutes later. “The smugglers have accumulated a big store of goods, and they are anxious to get them over the border. There are silks, laces, diamonds, and other things on which there is a high duty, or tax for bringing into the United States. He will be here early, and we must be ready for a start at once.”
“All right. I guess we are ready now. Say, I’m going over to that little brook, and see if I can catch a few trout for supper.”
“All right. Good idea. Don’t be gone too long.”
“I won’t. Say, where is my coat, anyhow? I never can seem to keep track of that, or my cap either.”
“Never mind. Wear mine, and you won’t be delayed looking for them,” so Ned donned Tom’s garment and headpiece, and set out.
Three hours passed, and Mr. Damon prepared to get supper.
“I wonder why Ned doesn’t come back with the fish?” he said. “It’s time, if we’re going to cook them tonight.”
“That’s right, he ought to be here,” agreed Tom. “Koku take a walk over to the trout brook, and tell Mr. Ned to come here, whether he has any fish or not.”
“Sure, me go, Mr. Tom!”
Koku was gone perhaps five minutes, and when he came back he was much excited.
“Mr. Ned he no there!” the giant cried. “But fish pole all broken, and ground all full of holes. Look like fight.”
Tom started for the place where he knew Ned usually went to fish. Koku and Mr. Damon followed. On reaching it our hero saw indeed that the ground was “full of holes,” as the giant described the indentations made by the heels of boots and shoes.
“There’s been a fight here!” cried Tom.
“Yes, and Ned is missing,” added Mr. Damon.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE NIGHT RACE
The three looked at each other. For a moment they could not understand, and then, as they stood there, the meaning came to them.
“The smugglers!” whispered Tom.
“Of course!” agreed Mr. Damon. “And they must have taken him for you, Tom, for he had on your coat and cap. What can they have done with him?”
“Taken him away, that’s evident,” spoke Tom. “Let’s look around, and see if we can find him.”
They looked, but to no purpose. Ned had disappeared. There were the signs of a struggle, the fish rod was broken in several places, as if Ned had used it as a club, and the ground was torn up.
; “Bless my tin whistle!” cried Mr. Damon. “What shall we do?”
For a moment no one knew what to say, then, as they looked at each other in silence, a voice called:
“I say! What’s up? What’s the matter? Where are you all? Hey, Tom Swift!”
“It’s Mr. Whitford!” cried Tom. “He’s just in time.” Then he called in louder tones:
“Here we are! In the woods by the trout brook! Come on over! Ned is gone!”
There was a commotion in the bushes, the trampling of a horse, and a moment later the government agent had joined the others.
“What’s this?” he cried. “Ned gone? What do you mean?”
“He’s missing. The smugglers have him, I’m afraid,” explained Tom, and then he gave the details.
“It certainly looks so,” agreed Mr. Whitford. “His wearing of your coat and cap fooled them. They must have spied out this camping place, and they were in hiding. When they saw Ned coming to fish they took him for you. Having failed in their attempt to damage the airship, they decided to get her captain. Probably they thought that if they did the Falcon could not be run, and they would be safe. But they got the wrong man.”
“Then we must get Ned back at once!” cried Tom. “Come on, we’ll start right away! Where do you think we can nab them, Mr. Whitford?”
“Wait a minute,” suggested the government agent. He seemed in deep thought, and paced up and down. It was clear that a great question was confronting him.
“Well!” exclaimed Tom impatiently, “if we’re going to get Ned we must start at once.”
“Perhaps it would be best not to try to rescue Ned at once,” said the custom house man after a pause.
“What!” cried Tom. “Not rescue Ned, my best chum?”
“Not at once,” repeated Mr. Whitford. “Look here, Tom. I know it seems a hard thing to say, but perhaps if we proceed on our original plan, to hover over the border, and get on the trail of the smugglers, chasing them to where they land the goods in the United States, it will be best.”
“And not rescue Ned?”
“We can best rescue him by catching the smugglers.”
“Then you think—”
“That they have him with them—on board one of their airships very likely. If we get them we’ll have Ned.”
“Then we’ll get ’em!” cried Tom with energy. “Come on back to the Falcon. We’ll get ready for a big flight!”
“Yes, I think they’ll make a desperate effort tonight,” went on the agent. “They have a lot of goods ready to rush over the border, and the fact that they tried to capture you, shows that they are ready to pull off a big trick. I think if we can catch them tonight, it will put an end to their operations, and, at the same time, bring Ned back to us.”
“Where do you think they will start to cross the line?” asked Tom.
“Near the place where we saw the man waving the flags. I have information to the effect that they have a store of valuable goods there. They imagine that they have the master of the airship, and the owner of the great searchlight in their power, and that they can not be molested, so they will be bold.”
“But they’ll soon find out that Ned isn’t Tom,” said Mr. Damon.
“No they won’t! Not if it depends on Ned!” cried Tom. “Ned is game. He’ll soon get wise to the fact that they have taken him for me, and he’ll carry on the deception. None of the smugglers know me intimately.”
“Unless Andy Foger should be with them,” suggested Mr. Damon.
“Oh, Ned can fool Andy any day. Come on, Mr. Whitford. We’ll get the smugglers tonight, spoil their game, and rescue Ned. Somehow, I feel that we’re going to succeed.”
“Bless my tin dishpan!” cried Mr. Damon. “I hope we do.”
Slowly, and with no very cheerful hearts, they filed away from the scene of Ned’s capture. In spite of the fact that they did not think he would be harshly treated, they worried about him, Tom especially.
A hasty supper was eaten, and then, Tom, having seen that everything aboard the ship was in good order, sent her aloft on what he hoped would be the last chase after the smugglers. He decided to have Mr. Damon steer the craft, as this was comparatively easy, once she was started on her course, while the young inventor would manage the searchlight, and start the automatic wizard camera, in case there was anything to photograph.
Up and up went the Falcon, and soon she was making her way toward the St. Regis Indian reservation, near which it was expected the smugglers would start. Tom put out every light, as he wanted to remain in darkness, until he could see a moving glow in the sky that would tell him of a rival airship on the wing.
It did not take them long to reach the desired spot, and they hovered in the air over it, every one with tense nerves, waiting for what would happen next.
Tom did not want to show his searchlight just yet, as he feared the gleam of it might stop the operations of the smugglers. So he waited in darkness, approaching close to the earth in his noiseless ship several times, and endeavoring to see something through the powerful night glasses.
Suddenly, from below them, came a subdued throb and hum of a motor.
“There they are!” exclaimed Mr. Damon.
“I think so,” agreed Tom. He looked below. He saw two flickering lights, rather far apart. Mr. Whitford observed them at the same moment.
“There are two of them!” exclaimed the agent, “Two airships, Tom!”
“So I see. Koku, get out my electric rifle. We can’t chase two, if they separate, so I may have to stop one. It’s best to be prepared. I’m going to follow them in the dark, until they get over the border, and then I’ll turn on the light and the camera. Then it will be a race to the finish.”
The twin lights came nearer. Tom stood with his mouth to the signal tube that communicated with Mr. Damon in the pilot house. From a side window he watched the smugglers’ airships. They shot upward and then came on straight ahead, to pass to one side of him. Now they were past. Tom started the wizard camera.
“Half speed ahead!” the young inventor signalled, and the Falcon shot forward. The night race was on.
CHAPTER XXV
THE CAPTURE—CONCLUSION
“Do you think they know we are here, Tom?” asked Mr. Whitford, as he stood at the side of the young inventor in the motor room.
“I don’t believe so, as yet. They can’t hear us, and, unless they have pretty powerful glasses, they can’t pick us up. We can soon tell however, if they are aware that we are following them.”
“Have you made any plan about capturing them?”
“No, I’m going to wait and see what turns up. I can’t certainly chase two of them, if they separate, and that’s why I’m going to cripple one if I have to.”
“But won’t that be dangerous? I don’t want to see any of them killed, or even hurt, though they are smugglers.”
“And I don’t want to hurt them, either. If worst comes to worst I’m going to put a few holes in the wing planes of the smaller craft. That will cause her to lose headway, and she can’t keep up. They’ll have to volplane to earth, but, if they know anything at all about airships, they can do that easily, and not get a bit hurt. That will put them out of the race, and I can keep on after the big ship. I fancy that carries the more valuable cargo.”
“I presume so. Well, don’t bring the one to earth until you get over Uncle Sam’s territory, and then maybe there will be a chance to capture them, and the goods too.”
“I will,” promised Tom. They were still over Canadian territory, but were rapidly approaching the border.
“I think I will send a wireless to my men in Logansville, to start out and try to pick up the crippled airship after you disable her,” decided Mr. Whitford, and as Tom agreed that this was a good plan, the wireless was soon cracking away, the government agent being an adept in its use.
“I’ve told them we’d give another signal to tell them, as nearly as possible where we made them take to earth,” he said to Tom, a
nd the young inventor nodded in agreement.
“Ned in them ship?” asked Koku, as he came back from the pilot house to report that Mr. Damon was all right, and needed no help.
“Yes, I think Ned is in one of them,” said Tom. “The big one most likely. Poor Ned a prisoner! Well, I’ll soon have him away from them—if nothing happens,” and Tom looked about the motor room, to make sure that every piece of apparatus was working perfectly.
The two airships of the smugglers were hanging close together, and it was evident that the larger one had to make her pace slow, so as not to get ahead of the small craft. Tom followed on relentlessly, not using half his speed, but creeping on silently in the darkness.
“We’re over the United States now,” said Mr. Whitford, after a glance earthward through the binoculars. “Let ’em get a little farther over the line before you pop ’em with your electric rifle, Tom.”
Our hero nodded, and looked out of a side window to note the progress of the smugglers. For several miles the chase was thus kept up, and then, suddenly the smaller craft was seen to swerve to one side.
“They are separating!” cried Mr. Whitford, at the same time Mr. Damon called through the tube from the pilot house:
“Which one shall I follow, Tom?”
“The big one,” the youth answered. “I’ll take care of the other!” With a quick motion he flashed the current into the great searchlight, and, calling to Mr. Whitford to hold it so that the beams played on the small aeroplane, Tom leveled his wonderful electric rifle at the big stretch of canvas. He pressed the lever, a streak of blue flame shot out through an opened port, and, an instant later, the small craft of the smugglers was seen to stagger about, dipping to one side.
“There they come!” cried Mr. Whitford. “They’re done for!”
“One shot more,” said Tom grimly. “It won’t hurt ’em!”
Again the deadly electric rifle sent out its wireless charge, and the airship slowly fluttered toward the earth.
“They’re volplaning down!” cried Tom. “That’s the end of them. Now to catch the other!”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 190
