The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “You’d better move, I tell you. The dam is slowly weakening. We’ve done all we can to save it, but that’s out of the question. The only thing to do is to run while there’s time. We’ve tried to make additional openings, but we daren’t make any more, or the wall will be so weakened that it will go out in less than twenty-four hours.

  “You’ve had your warning, now profit by it!” he added. “I’m going to tell those poor souls down in the valley below. It will be tough on them; but it can’t be helped.”

  “If the dam bursts and the water could only be turned over into the transverse valley, this one would be safe,” said Tom, in a low voice.

  “Yes, but it can’t be done!” the messenger exclaimed. “Our engineers thought of that, but it would take a week to open a channel, and there isn’t time. It can’t be done!”

  “Maybe it can,” spoke Tom, softly, but no one asked him what he meant.

  “Well, I must be off,” the man went on. “I’ve done my duty in warning you.”

  “Yes, you have,” agreed Tom, “and if any damage comes to us it will be our own fault. But I don’t believe there will.”

  The man hastened out, murmuring something about “rash and foolhardy people.”

  “What are you going to do, Tom?” asked Ned.

  “Stay right here.”

  “But if the dam bursts?”

  “It may not, but, if it does, we’ll be safe. I have had a look at the water, and there’s no chance for it to rise here, even if the whole dam went out at once, which is not likely. Don’t worry. We’ll be all right.”

  “Bless my checkbook!” cried Mr. Damon. “But what about those poor people in the valley?”

  “They will have time to flee, and save their lives,” spoke the young inventor; “but they may lose their homes. They can sue the water company for damages, though. Now don’t do any more worrying, but get to bed, and be ready for the test tomorrow. And the first thing I do I’m going to have a little flight in the Humming Bird to get my nerves in trim. This long rain has gotten me in poor shape. Koku, you must be on the alert tonight. I don’t want anything to happen to my gun at the last minute.”

  “Me watch!” exclaimed the giant, significantly, as he picked up a heavy club.

  “Do you anticipate any trouble?” asked Ned, anxiously.

  “No, but it’s best to be on the safe side,” answered Tom. “Now let’s turn in.”

  Certainly the next day, bright and sunshiny as it broke, had in it little of impending disaster. The weather was fine after the long-continued rains, and the whole valley seemed peaceful and quiet. At the far end could be seen the great dam, with water pouring over it in a thin sheet, forming a small stream that trickled down the centre of the valley, and to the town below.

  But, through great pipes that led to the drinking system, though they were unseen, thundered immense streams of solid water, reducing by as much as the engineers were able the pressure on the concrete wall.

  Tom and Ned, in the Humming Bird, took a flight out to the dam shortly after breakfast, when the steel men were putting a few finishing touches to the gun carriage, ready for the test that was to take place about noon.

  “It doesn’t look as though it would burst,” observed Ned, as the aircraft hovered over the big artificial lake.

  “No,” agreed Tom. “But I suppose the engineers want to be on the safe side in case of damage suits. I want to take a look at the place where the other valley comes up to this at right angles.”

  He steered his powerful little craft in that direction, and circled low over the spot.

  “A bursting projectile, about where that big white stone is, would do the trick,” murmured Tom.

  “What trick?” asked Ned, curiously.

  “Oh, I guess I was talking to myself,” admitted Tom, with a laugh. “I may not have to do it, Ned.”

  “Well, you’re talking in riddles today, all right, Tom. When you get ready to put me wise, please do.”

  “I will. Now we’ll get back, and fire our first long shot. I do hope I make a record.”

  There was much to be done, in spite of the fact that the foreman of the steel workers assured Tom that all was in readiness. It was some time that afternoon when word was given for those who wished to retire to an improvised bomb-proof. Word had previously been sent down the valley so that no one, unless he was looking for trouble, need be in the vicinity of the gun, nor near where the shots were to land.

  Through powerful glasses Tom and Ned surveyed the distant mountain that was to be the target. Several great squares of white cloth had been put at different bare spots to make the finding of the range easy.

  “I guess we’re ready now,” announced the young inventor, a bit nervously. “Bring up the powder, Koku.”

  “Me bring,” exclaimed the giant, calmly, as he went to the bomb-proof where the powerful explosive was kept.

  The great projectile was in readiness to be slung into the breech by means of the hoisting apparatus, for it weighed close to two tons. It was carefully inserted under Tom’s supervision. It carried no bursting charge, for Tom’s first shot was merely to establish the extreme range that his cannon would shoot.

  “Now the powder,” called the young inventor. To avoid accidents Koku handled this himself, the hoisting apparatus being dispensed with. Tom figured out that five hundred pounds of his new, powerful explosive would be about the right amount to use, and this quantity, divided into several packages to make the handling easier, was quickly inserted in the breech of the gun by Koku.

  “Bless my doormat!” cried Mr. Damon, who stood near, looking nervously on. “Don’t drop any of that.”

  “Me no drop,” was the answer.

  Tom was busily engaged in figuring on a bit of paper, and Ned, who looked over his shoulder, saw a complicated compilation that looked to be a combination of geometry, algebra, differential calculus and other higher mathematics.

  “What are you doing, Tom?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to confirm my own theories by means of figures, to see if I can really reach that farthest target.”

  “What, not the one thirty miles away.

  “That’s it, Ned. I want to get a thirty-mile range if I can.”

  “It isn’t possible, Tom.”

  “Bless my tape measure! I should say not!” cried Mr. Damon.

  “We’ll see,” replied Tom, quietly. “Put in the primer, Ned; and, Koku, close the breech and slot it home.”

  In a few seconds the great gun was ready for firing.

  “Now,” said Tom, “this thing may be all right, and it may not. The only thing that can cause an accident will be a flaw in the steel. No one can guard against that. So, in order to be on the safe side, we will all go into the bomb-proof, and I will fire the gun from there. The wires are long enough.”

  They all agreed that this was good advice, and soon the steel men and Tom’s friends were gathered in a sort of cave that had been hollowed out in the side of the hill, and at an angle from the big gun.

  “If it does burst—which I hope it won’t,” said Tom, “the pieces will fly in straight lines, so we will be safe enough here. Ned, are you are ready at the instruments?”

  “Yes, Tom.”

  “I want you to note the registered muzzle velocity. Mr. Damon, you will please read the pressure gauge. After I press the button I’m going to watch the landing of the projectile through the telescope.”

  The gun had been pointed, as I have said, at the farthest target—one thirty miles away, telescope sights on the giant cannon making this possible.

  “All ready!” cried Tom.

  “All ready,” answered Ned.

  There was a tense moment; Tom’s thumb pressed home the electric button, and then came the explosion.

  It seemed for a moment as if everyone was lifted from his feet. They had all stood on their tiptoes, and opened their mouths to lessen the shock, but even then it was terrific. The very ground shook—from the roof of their
cave small stones and gravel rattled down on their heads. Their ear-drums were numbed from the shock. And the noise that filled the valley seemed like a thousand thunderbolts merged into one.

  Tom rushed from the bombproof, dropping the electric button. He caught sight of his gun, resting undisturbed on the improvised carriage.

  “Hurray!” he cried in delight. “She stood the charge all right. And look! look!” he cried, as he pointed the glasses toward the distant hillside. “There goes my projectile as straight as an arrow. There! By Caesar, Ned! It landed within three feet of the target! Oh, you beauty!” he yelled at his giant cannon. “You did all I hoped you would! Thirty miles, Ned! Think of that! A two-ton projectile being shot thirty miles!”

  “It’s great, Tom!” yelled his chum, clapping him on the back, and capering about. “It’s the longest shot on record.”

  “It certainly is,” declared the foreman of the steel workers, who had helped in casting many big guns. “No cannon ever made can equal it. You win, Tom Swift!”

  “Bless my armor plate!” gasped Mr. Damon. “What attacking ship against the Panama Canal could float after a shot like that.”

  “Not one,” declared Tom; “especially after I put a bursting charge into the projectile. We’ll try that next.”

  By means of compressed air the gases and some particles of the unexploded powder were blown out of the big cannon. Then it was loaded again, the projectile this time carrying a bursting charge of another explosive that would be set off by concussion.

  Once more they retired to the bombproof, and again the great gun was fired. Once more the ground shook, and they were nearly deafened by the shock.

  Then, as they looked toward the distant hillside, they saw a shower of earth and great rocks rise up. It was like a sand geyser. Then, when this settled back again, there was left a gaping hole in the side of the mountain.

  “That does the business!” cried Tom. “My cannon is a success!”

  The last shot did not go quite as far as the first, but it was because a different kind of projectile was used. Tom was perfectly satisfied, however. Several more trials were given the gun, and each one confirmed the young inventor in his belief that he had made a wonderful weapon.

  “If that doesn’t fortify the Panama Canal nothing will,” declared Ned.

  “Well, I hope I can convince Uncle Sam of that,” spoke Tom, simply.

  The muzzle velocity and the pressure were equal to Tom’s highest hopes. He knew, now, that he had hit on just the right mixture of powder, and that his gun was correctly proportioned. It showed not the slightest strain.

  “Now we’ll try another bursting shell,” he said, after a rest, during which some records were made. “Then we’ll call it a day’s work. Koku, bring up some more powder. I’ll use a little heavier charge this time.”

  It was while the gun was being loaded that a horseman was seen riding wildly down the valley. He was waving a red flag in his hand.

  “Bless my watch chain!” cried Mr. Damon. “What’s that?”

  “It looks as though he was coming to give us a warning,” suggested the steel foreman.

  “Maybe someone has kicked about our shooting,” remarked Ned.

  “I hope not,” murmured Tom.

  He looked at the horseman anxiously. The rider came nearer and nearer, wildly waving his flag. He seemed to be shouting something, but his words could not be made out. Finally he came near enough to be heard.

  “The dam! The dam!” he cried. “It’s bursting. Your shots have hastened it. The cracks are widening. You’d better get away!” And he galloped on.

  “Bless my toilet soap!” gasped Mr. Damon.

  “I was afraid of this!” murmured Tom. “But, since our shots have hastened the disaster, maybe we can avert it.”

  “How?” demanded Ned.

  “I’ll show you. All hands come here and we’ll shift this gun. I want it to point at that big white stone!” and he indicated an immense boulder, well up the valley, near the place where the two great gulches joined.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE DOPED POWDER

  “What are you going to do, Tom?” cried Ned, as he, with the others, worked the hand gear that shifted the big gun. When it was permanently mounted electricity would accomplish this work. “What’s your game, Tom?”

  “Don’t you remember, Ned? When we were talking about the chance of the dam bursting, I said if the current of suddenly released water could be turned into the other valley, the people below us would be saved.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to fire a bursting shell at the point where the two valleys come together. I’ll break down the barrier of rock and stone between them.”

  “Bless my shovel and hoe!” cried Mr. Damon.

  “If we can turn enough of the water into the other valley, where no one lives, and where it can escape into the big river there, the amount that will flow down this valley will be so small that only a little damage will be done.”

  “That’s right!” declared the steel foreman, as he caught Tom’s idea. “It’s the only way it could be done, too, for there won’t be time to make the necessary excavation any other way. Is the gun swung around far enough, Mr. Swift?”

  “No, a little more toward me,” answered Tom, as he peered through the telescope sights. “There, that will do. Now to get the proper elevation,” and he began to work the other apparatus, having estimated the range as well as he could.

  In a few seconds the giant cannon was properly trained on the white rock. Meanwhile the horseman, with his red flag, had continued on down the valley. In spite of his warning of the night before, it developed that a number had disregarded it, and had remained in their homes. Most of the inhabitants, however, had fled to the hills, to stay in tents, or with such neighbors as could accommodate them. Some lingered to move their household goods, while others fled with what they could carry.

  It was to see that the town was deserted by these late-stayers that the messenger rode, crying his warning as did the messenger at the bursting of the Johnstown dam twenty-odd years ago.

  “The projectile!” cried Tom, as he saw that all was in readiness. “Lively now! I can see the top of the dam beginning to crumble,” and he laid aside the telescope he had been using.

  The projectile, with a heavy charge of bursting powder, was slung into the breech of the gun.

  “Now the powder, Koku!” called Tom. “Be quick; but not so fast that you drop any of it.”

  “Me fetch,” responded the giant, as he hastened toward the small cave where the explosive was kept. As the big man brought the first lot, and Ned was about to insert it in the breech of the gun, behind the projectile, Tom exclaimed:

  “Just let me have a look at that. It’s some that I first made, and I want to be sure it hasn’t gone stale.”

  Critically he looked at the powerful explosive. As he did so a change came over his face.

  “Here, Koku!” the young inventor said. “Where did you get this?”

  “In cave, Master.”

  “Is there any more left?”

  “Only enough for this one shoot.”

  “By Jove!” muttered Tom. “There’s been some trick played here!” and he set off on a run toward the bomb-proof.

  “What’s the matter?” cried Ned, as he noticed the agitation of his chum.

  “The powder has been doped!” yelled Tom. “Something has been put in it to make it nonexplosive. It’s no good. It wouldn’t send that shell a thousand yards, and it’s got to go five miles to do any good. My plan won’t work.”

  “Doped the powder?” gasped Ned. “Who could have done it?”

  “I don’t know. There must have been some spy at work. Quick, run and ask the foreman if any of his men are missing. I’ll see if there’s enough of the good powder left to break down the barrier!”

  Ned was away like a shot, while the others, not knowing what to make of the strange conduct of
the two lads, looked on in wonder. Tom raced toward the cave where the powder was stored, Koku following him.

  “Bless my shoe laces!” cried Mr. Damon. “Look at the dam now!”

  They gazed to where he pointed. In several places the concrete spillway had crumbled down to a ragged edge, showing that the solid wall was giving way. The amount of water flowing over the dam was greater now. The creek was steadily rising. Down the valley the horseman with the red flag was but a speck in the distance.

  “What can I do? What can I do?” murmured Tom. “If all the powder there is left has been doped, I can’t save the town! What can I do? What can I do?”

  Ned had reached the foreman, who, with his helpers, was standing about the big gun.

  “Have any of your men left recently?” yelled Ned.

  “Any of my men left? What do you mean?

  “Schlichter went yesterday,” said the timekeeper. “I thought he was in quite a hurry to get his money, too.”

  “Schlichter gone!” exclaimed the foreman. “He was no good anyhow. I think he was a sort of Anarchist; always against the government, the way he talked. So he has left; eh? But what’s the matter, Ned?”

  “Something wrong with the powder. Tom can’t shoot the cannon and turn aside the water to save the town. Some of his enemies have been at work. Schlichter leaving at this time, and in such hurry, makes it look suspicious.”

  “It sure does! And, now I recall it, I saw him yesterday near your powder magazine. I called him down for it, for I knew Tom Swift had given orders that only his own party was to go near it. So the powder is doped; eh?”

  “Yes! It’s all off now.”

  He turned to see Tom approaching on the run.

  “Any good powder left?” asked Ned.

  “Not a pound. Did you hear anything?”

  “Yes, one man has disappeared. Oh, Tom, we’ve got to fail after all! We can’t save the town!”

  “Yes, we can, Ned. If that dam will only hold for half an hour more.”

  “What do you mean

  “I mean that I have another supply of good powder in the village. I secreted some there, you remember I told you. If I can go get that, and get back here in time, I can break down the barrier with one shot, and save Preston.”