“A puma is a small sized lion, you know, not specially dangerous unless cornered. Well, some of the men had their families here with them, and a couple of children disappeared. The story got started that there was a big puma—the king of them all—carrying off the little ones, and my brother and I awoke one morning to find every laborer missing. They departed bag and baggage. Afraid of the pumas.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, we organized ourselves and our white helpers into a hunting party and killed a lot of the beasts. There wasn’t any big one though.”
“And what had become of the children?”
“They weren’t eaten at all. They had wandered off into the woods, and some natives found them and took care of them. Eventually, they got back home. But it was a long while before we could persuade the Indians to come back. Since then we haven’t had any trouble, and I don’t want Tim, with his superstitious fancies, to start any.”
“But the min are gone!” insisted the Irish foreman, who had listened to this story as he and the others walked along.
“We’ll find them,” declared Mr. Titus.
But though they looked all along the big shaft, and though the place was well lighted by extra lamps that were turned on when the investigation started, no trace could be found of the workmen, who had been left in the tunnel to finish tamping the blast charges. The party reached the rocky heading, in the face of which the powerful explosive had been placed, and not an Indian was in sight. Nor, as far as could be told, was there any side niche, or blind shaft, in which they could be hiding.
Sometimes, when small blasts were set off, the men would go behind a projecting shoulder of rock to wait until the charge had been fired, but now none was in such a refuge.
“It is queer,” admitted Walter Titus. “Where can the men have gone?”
“That’s what I want to know!” exclaimed Tim.
“Are you sure they didn’t come out the mouth of the tunnel?” asked Job Titus.
“Positive,” asserted Tom. I was there all the while, rigging up the fires.”
“We’ll call the roll, and check up,” decided Job Titus. “Get Serato to help.”
The Indian foreman had not been in the tunnel with the last shift of men, having left them to Tim Sullivan to get out in time. The Indian foreman was called from his supper in the shack where he had his headquarters, and the roll of workmen was called.
Ten men were missing, and when this fact became known there were uneasy looks among the others.
“Well,” said Mr. Titus, after a pause. “The men are either in the tunnel or out of it. If they’re in we don’t dare set off the blast, and if they’re out they’ll show up, sooner or later, for supper. I never knew any of ’em to miss a meal.”
“If such a thing were possible,” said Walter Titus, “I would say that our rivals had a hand in this, and had induced our men to bolt in order to cripple our force. But we haven’t seen any of Blakeson & Grinder’s emissaries about, and, if they were, how could they get the ten men out of the tunnel without our Seeing them? It’s impossible!”
“Well, what did happen then?” asked Tom.
“I’m inclined to think that the men came out and neither you, nor any one else, saw them. They ran away for reasons of their own. We’ll take another look in the morning, and then set off the blast.”
And this was done. There being no trace of the men in the tunnel it was deemed safe to explode the charges. This was done, a great amount of rock being loosened.
The laborers hung back when the orders were given to go in and clean up. There were mutterings among them.
“What’s the matter?” asked Job Titus.
“Them afraid,” answered Serato. “Them say devil in tunnel eat um up! No go in.”
“They won’t go in, eh?” cried Tim Sullivan. “Well, they will thot! If there’s a divil inside there’s a worse one outside, an’ thot’s me! Git in there now, ye black-livered spalapeens!” and catching up a big club the Irishman made a rush for the hesitating laborers. With a howl they rushed into the tunnel, and were soon loading rock into the dump cars.
CHAPTER XVI
ON THE WATCH
The mystery of the disappearance of the ten men—for mystery it was—remained, and as no side opening or passage could be found within the tunnel, it came to be the generally accepted explanation that the laborers had come out unobserved, and, for reasons of their own, had run away.
This habit on the part of the Peruvian workers was not unusual. In fact, the Titus brothers had to maintain a sort of permanent employment agency in Lima to replace the deserters. But they were used to this. The difference was that the Indians used to vanish from camp at night, and invariably after pay-day.
“And that’s the only reason I have a slight doubt that they walked out of the tunnel,” said Job Titus. “There was money due em.”
“They never came out of the front entrance of the tunnel,” said Tom. “Of that I’m positive.”
But there was no way of proving his assertion.
The third blast, while not as successful as the second in the amount of rock loosened, was better than the first, and made a big advance in the tunnel progress. Tom was beginning to understand the nature of the mountain into which the big shaft was being driven and he learned how better to apply the force of his explosive.
That was the work which he had charge of—the placing of the giant powder so it would do the most effective work. Then, when the fumes from the blast had cleared away, in would surge the workmen to clear away the debris.
Under the direction of Mr. Swift, left at Shopton to oversee the manufacture of the explosive, new shipments came on promptly to Lima, and were brought out to the tunnel on the backs of mules, or in the case of small quantities, on the llamas. But the latter brutes will not carry a heavy load, lying down and refusing to get up if they are overburdened, whereas one has yet to find a mule’s limit.
After his first success in getting the natives to take a more active interest in the gathering of the cinchona bark, Mr. Damon found it rather easy, for the story of Tom’s electric rifle and how it had killed the mad dog spread among the tribes, and Mr. Damon had but to announce that the “lightning shooter,” as Tom was called, was a friend of the drug concern to bring about the desired results. Mr. Damon, by paying a sort of bribe, disguised under the name “tax,” secured the help of Peruvian officials so he had no trouble on that score.
Koku was in his element. He liked a wild life and Peru was much more like the country of giants where Tom had found him, than any place the big man had since visited. Koku had great strength and wanted to use it, and after a week or so of idleness he persuaded Tom to let him go in the tunnel to work.
The giant was made a sort of foreman under Tim, and the two became great friends. The only trouble with Koku was that he would do a thing himself instead of letting his men do it, as, of course, all proper foremen should do. If the giant saw two or three of the Indians trying to lift a big rock into the little dump cars, and failing because of its great weight, he would good-naturedly thrust them aside, pick up the big stone in his mighty arms, and deposit it in its place.
And once when an unusually big load had been put in a car, and the mule attached found it impossible to pull it out to the tunnel mouth, Koku unhitched the creature and, slipping the harness around his waist, walked out, dragging the load as easily as if pulling a child on a sled.
Professor Bumper kept on with his search for the lost city of Pelone. Back and forth he wandered among the wild Andes Mountains, now hopeful that he was on the right trail, and again in despair. Tom and Mr. Damon went with him once more for a week, and though they enjoyed the trip, for the professor was a delightful companion, there were no results. But the scientist would not give up.
Tom Swift was kept busy looking after the shipments of the explosive, and arranging for the blasts. He had letters from Ned Newton in which news of Shopton was given, and Mr. Swift wrote occasion
ally. But the mails in the wilderness of the Andes were few and far between.
Tom wrote a letter of explanation to Mr. Nestor, in addition to the wireless he had sent regarding the box labeled dynamite, but he got no answer. Nor were his letters to Mary answered.
“I wonder what’s wrong?” Tom mused. “It can’t be that they think I did that on purpose. And even if Mr. Nestor is angry at me for something that wasn’t my fault, Mary ought to write.”
But she did not, and Tom grew a bit despondent as the days went by and no word came.
“I suppose they might be offended because I left Rad to do up that package instead of attending to it myself,” thought Tom. “Well, I did make a mistake there, but I didn’t mean to. I never thought about Eradicate’s not reading. I’ll make him go to night school as soon as I get back. But maybe I’ll never get another chance to send Mary anything. If I do, I’ll not let Rad deliver it—that’s sure.”
The feeling of alarm engendered among the Indians by the disappearance of their ten fellow-workers seemed to have disappeared. There were rumors that some of the mysterious ten had been seen in distant villages and settlements, but the Titus brothers could not confirm this.
“I don’t think anything serious happened to them, anyhow,” said Job Titus one day. “And I should hate to think our work was responsible for harm to any one.”
“Your rivals don’t seem to be doing much to hamper you,” observed Tom. “I guess Waddington gave up.
“I won’t be too sure of that,” said Mr. Titus.
“Why, what has happened?” Tom asked.
“Well, nothing down here—that is, directly—but we are meeting with trouble on the financial end. The Peruvian government is holding back payments.”
“Why is that?”
“They claim we are not as far advanced as we ought to be.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Practically, yes. There was no set limit of work to be done for the intermediate payments. We bonded ourselves to have the tunnel done at a certain date.
“If we fail, we lose a large sum, and if we get it done ahead of time we get a big premium. There was no question as to completing a certain amount of footage before we received certain payments. But Senor Belasdo, the government representative, claims that we will not be done in time, and therefore he is holding back money due us. I’m sure the rival contractors have set him up to this, because he was always decent to us before.
“Another matter, too, makes me suspicious. We have tried to raise money in New York to tide us over while the government is holding up our funds here. But our New York office is meeting with difficulties. They report there is a story current to the effect that we are going to fail, and while that isn’t so, you know how hard it is to borrow money in the face of such rumors. We are doing all we can to fight them, of course, and maybe we’ll beat out our rivals yet.
“But that isn’t all. I’m sure some one is on the ground here trying to make trouble among our workers. I never knew so many men to leave, one after another. It’s keeping the employment agency in Lima busy supplying us with new workers. And so many of them are unskilled. They aren’t able to do half the work of the old men, and poor Tim Sullivan is in despair.”
“You think some one here is causing dissensions and desertions among your men?”
“I’m sure of it! I’ve tried to ferret out who it is, but the spy, for such he must be, keeps his identity well hidden.”
Tom thought for a moment. Then he said:
“Mr. Titus, with your permission, I’ll see if I can find out about this for you.”
“Find out what, Tom?”
“What is causing the men to leave. I don’t believe it’s the scare about the ten missing ones.”
“Nor do I. That’s past and gone. But how are you going to get at the bottom of it?”
“By keeping watch. I’ve got nothing to do now for the next week. We’ve just set off a big blast, and I’ve got the powder for the following one all ready. The men will be busy for some time getting out the broken rock. Now what I propose to do is to go in the tunnel and work among them until I can learn something.
“I can understand the language pretty well now, though I can’t speak much of it. I’ll go in the tunnel every day and find out what’s going on.”
“But you’ll be known, and if one of our men, or one who we suppose is one, turns out to be a spy, he’ll be very cautious while you’re in there.”
“He won’t know me,” Tom said. “This is how I’ll work it. I’ll go off with Professor Bumper the next time he starts on one of his weekly expeditions into the woods. But I won’t go far until I turn around and come back. I’ll adopt some sort of disguise, and I’ll apply to you for work. You can tell Tim to put me on. You might let him into the secret, but no one else.”
A few days later Tom was seen departing with Professor Bumper into the interior, presumably to help look for the lost city. Mr. Damon was away from camp on business connected with the drug concern, and Koku, to his delight, had been given charge of a stationary hoisting engine outside the tunnel, so he would not come in contact with Tom. It was not thought wise to take the giant into the secret.
Then one day, shortly after Professor Bumper and Tom had disappeared into the forest, a ragged and unkempt white man applied at the tunnel camp for work. There was just the barest wink as he accosted Mr. Titus, who winked in turn, and then the new man was handed over to Tim Sullivan, as a sort of helper.
And so Tom Swift began his watch.
CHAPTER XVII
THE CONDOR
Left to himself, with only the rather silent gang of Peruvian Indians as company, Tom Swift looked about him. There was not much active work to be done, only to see that the Indians filled the dump cars evenly full, so none of the broken rock would spill over the side and litter the tramway. Then, too, he had to keep the Indians up to the mark working, for these men were no different from any other, and they were just as inclined to “loaf on the job” when the eye of the “boss” was turned away.
They did not talk much, murmuring among themselves now and then, and little of what they said was intelligible to Tom. But he knew enough of the language to give them orders, the main one of which was:
“Hurry up!”
Now, having seen to it that the gang of which he was in temporary charge was busily engaged, Tom had a chance to look about him. The tunnel was not new to him. Much of his time in the past month had been spent in its black depths, illuminated, more or less, by the string of incandescent lights.
“What I want to find,” mused Tom, as he walked to and fro, “is the place where those Indians disappeared. For I’m positive they got away through some hole in this tunnel. They never came out the main entrance.”
Tom held to this view in spite of the fact that nearly every one else believed the contrary—that the men had left by the tunnel mouth, near which Tom happened to be alone at the time.
Now, left to himself, with merely nominal duties, and so disguised that none of the workmen would know him for the trim young inventor who oversaw the preparing of the blast charges, Tom Swift walked to and fro, looking for some carefully hidden passage or shaft by means of which the men had got away.
“For it must be well hidden to have escaped observation so long,” Tom decided. “And it must be a natural shaft, or hole, for we are boring into native rock, and it isn’t likely that these Indians ever tried to make a tunnel here. There must be some natural fissure communicating with the outside of the mountain, in a place where no one would see the men coming out.”
But though Tom believed this it was another matter to demonstrate his belief. In the intervals of seeing that the natives properly loaded the dump cars, and removed as much of the debris as possible, Tom looked carefully along the walls and roof of the tunnel thus far excavated.
There were cracks and fissures, it is true, but they were all superficial ones, as Tom ascertained by poking a long pole up into them.
Once, while thus engaged, he saw Serato, the Indian foreman looking narrowly at him, and Serato said something in his own language which Tom could not understand. But just then along came Tim Sullivan, who, grasping the situation, exclaimed:
“Thot’s all roight, now, Serri, me lad!” for thus he contracted the Indian’s name. “Thot’s a new helper I have, a broth of a bye, an’ yez kin kape yer hands off him. He’s takin’ orders from me!”
“Um!” grunted the Indian. “Wha for he fish in tunnel roof?” for Tom’s pole was one like those the Indians used when, on off days, they emulated Izaak Walton.
“Fishin’ is it!” exclaimed Tim. “Begorra ’tis flyin’ fish he’s after I’m thinkin’. Lave him alone though, Serri! I’m his boss!”
“Um!” grunted the Indian again, as he moved off into the farther darkness.
“Be careful, Tom,” whispered the Irishman, when the native had gone. “These black imps is mighty suspicious. Maybe thot fellah had a hand in th’ disappearances hisself.”
“Maybe,” admitted Tom. “He may get a percentage on all new hands that are hired.”
Tom kept on with his search, always hoping he might find some hidden means of getting out of the tunnel. But as the days went by, and he discovered nothing, he began to despair.
“The queer thing about it,” mused Tom, “is what has become of the ten men. Even if they did find some secret means of leaving, what has become of them? They couldn’t completely disappear, and they have families and relatives that would make some sort of fuss if they were out of sight completely this long. I wonder if any inquiries have been made about them?”
When Tom came off duty he asked the Titus brothers whether or not any of the relatives of the missing men had come to seek news about them. None had.
“Then,” said Tom, “you can depend on it the men are all right, and their relatives know it. I wonder how it would do to make inquiries at that end? Question some of the relatives.”
“Bless my hat hand!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, who was at the conference. “I never thought of that. I’ll do it for you.”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 239
