But of the inhabitants, there was not a trace: either they had fled before the earthquake or the volcanic eruption had engulfed the city, or the countless centuries had turned their very bones to dust.
“Oh, what a find! What a find!” murmured Professor Bumper. “I shall be famous! And so will you, Tom Swift. For it was your blast that revealed the lost city of Pelone. Your name will be honored by every archeological society in the world, and all will be eager to make you an honorary member.”
“That’s all very nice,” said Tom, “but what pleases me better is that this tunnel is a success.”
“Success!” cried Mr. Damon. “I should call it a failure, Tom Swift. Why, you’ve run smack into an old city, and you’ll have either to curve the tunnel to one side, or start a new one.”
“Nothing of the sort!” laughed Tom. “Don’t you see? The tunnel comes right up to the main street of Pelone. And the street is as straight as a die, and just the width and height of the tunnel. All we will have to do will be to keep on blasting away, where the main street comes to an end, and our tunnel will be finished. The street is over half a mile long, I should judge, and we’ll save all that blasting. The tunnel will be finished in time!”
“So it will!” cried Job Titus. “We can use the main street of the hidden city as part of the tunnel.”
“Use the street all you like,” said Mr. Bumper, “but leave the houses to me. They are a perfect mine of ancient lore and information. At last I have found it! The ancient, hidden city of Pelone, spoken of on the Peruvian tablets, of gold.”
The story of the discoveries the scientist made in Pelone is an enthralling one. But this is a story of Tom Swift and his big tunnel, and no place for telling of the archeological discoveries.
Suffice it to say that Professor Bumper, though he found no gold, for which the contractors hoped, made many curious finds in the ancient houses. He came upon traces of a strange civilization, though he could find no record of what had caused the burial of Pelone beneath the mountains. He wrote many books about his discovery, giving Tom Swift due credit for uncovering the place with the mighty blast. Other scientists came in flocks, and for a time Pelone was almost as busy a place as it had been originally.
Even when the tunnel was completed and trains ran through it, the scientists kept on with their work of classifying what they found. An underground station was built on the main street of the old city, and visitors often wandered through the ancient houses, wherein was the bone-dust of the dead and gone people.
But to go back to the story of Tom Swift. Tom’s surmise was right. He and the contractors were able to use the main street of Pelone as part of their tunnel, and a good half mile of blasting through solid rock was saved. The flint came to an end at the extremity of Pelone, and the last part of the tunnel had only to be dug through sand-stone and soft dirt, an easy undertaking.
So the big bore was finished on time—ahead of time in fact, and Titus Brothers received from Senor Belasdo, the Peruvian representative, a large bonus of money, in which Tom Swift shared.
“So our rivals didn’t balk us after all,” said Walter Titus, “though they tried mighty hard.”
The big tunnel was finished—at least Tom Swift’s work on it. All that remained to do was to clear away the debris and lay the connecting rails. Tom and Mr. Damon prepared to go back home. The latter’s work was done. As for Professor Bumper, nothing could take him from Pelone. He said he was going to live there, and, practically, he did.
Tom, Koku and Mr. Damon returned to Lima, thence to go to Callao to take the steamer for San Francisco. One day the manager of the hotel spoke to them.
“You are Americans, are you not?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Tom. “Why?”
“Because there is another American here. He is friendless and alone, and he is dying. He has no friends, he says. Perhaps—”
“Of course we’ll do what we can for him,” said Tom, impulsively. “Where is he?”
With Mr. Damon he entered the room where the dying man lay. He had caught a fever, the hotel manager said, and could not recover. Tom, catching sight of the sufferer, cried:
“The bearded man! Waddington!”
He had recognized the mysterious person who had been on the Bellaconda, and the man whose face had stared at him through the secret shaft of the tunnel.
“Yes, the ‘bearded man’ now,” said the sufferer in a hoarse voice, “and some one else too. You are right. I am Waddington!”
And so it proved. He had grown a beard to disguise himself so he might better follow Tom Swift and Mr. Titus. And he had followed them, seeking to prevent the completion of the tunnel. But he had not been successful.
Waddington it was who had thrown the bomb, though he declared he only hoped to disable Tom and Mr. Titus, and not to injure them. He was fighting for delay. And it was Waddington, working in conjunction with the rascally foreman Serato, who had induced the tunnel workers to desert so mysteriously, hoping to scare the other Indians away. He nearly succeeded too, had it not been for the gratitude of the woman whose baby Tom had saved from the condor.
Waddington had been an actor before he became involved with the rival contractors. He was smooth shaven when first he went to Shopton, to spy on Mr. Titus, whose movements he had been commanded to follow by Blakeson & Grinder. Then he disappeared after Mr. Titus chased him, only to reappear, in disguise, on board the Bellaconda, as Senor Pinto.
Waddington, meanwhile, had grown a beard and this, with his knowledge of theatrical makeup, enabled him to deceive even Mr. Titus. Of course it was comparatively easy to deceive Tom, who had not known him. Waddington had really been ill when he called for help on the ship, and he had not noticed that it was Tom and Mr. Titus who came into his stateroom to his aid. When he did recognize them, he relied on his disguise to screen him from recognition, and he was successful. He had only pretended to be ill, though, the time he slipped out and threw the bomb.
Reaching Peru he at once began his plotting. Serato told him about the secret shaft leading into the tunnel, and with the knotted rope, and with the aid of the faithless foreman, the men were got out of the tunnel and paid to hide away. Waddington was planning further disappearances when Tom saw him, but thought it a dream.
Masni, the Indian woman, out herb-hunting one day, had seen Waddington, ‘the bearded man’ as he then was—working the secret stone. Hidden, she observed him and told her husband, who was afraid to reveal what he knew. But when Tom saved the baby the woman rewarded him in the only way possible. And it was Serato, who, at Waddington’s suggestion, caused the “hit” among the men by working on their superstitious fears.
Waddington, knowing that he was dying, confessed everything, and begged forgiveness from Tom and his friends, which was granted, in as much as no real harm had been done. Waddington was but a tool in the hands of the rival contractors, who deserted him in his hour of need. His last hours, however, were made as comfortable as possible by the generosity of Tom and Mr. Damon.
No effort was made to bring Blakeson & Grinder to justice, as there was no evidence against them after Waddington died. And, as the tunnel was finished, the Titus brothers had no further cause for worry.
“But if it had not been for Tom’s big blast, and the discovery of the hidden city of Pelone just in the right place, we might be digging at that tunnel yet,” said Job Titus.
The day before the steamer was to sail, Tom Swift received a cable message. Its receipt seemed to fill him with delight, so that Mr. Damon asked:
“Is it from your father, Tom?”
“No it’s from Mary Nestor. She says her father has forgiven me. They have been away, and Mary has been ill, which accounts for no letters up to now. But everything is all right now, and they feel that the dynamite trick wasn’t my fault. But, all the same, I’m going to teach Eradicate to read,” concluded Tom.
“I think it would be a good idea,” agreed Mr. Damon.
Tom, Mr. Damon and Koku,
bidding farewell to the friends they had made in Peru, went aboard the steamer, Job Titus and his brother coming to see them off.
“Give us an option on all that explosive you make, Tom Swift!” begged Walter Titus. “We were so successful with this tunnel, thanks to you, that the government is going to have us dig another. Will you come down and help?”
“Maybe,” said Tom, with a smile. “But I’m going home first,” and once more he read the message from Mary Nestor.
And as Tom, on the deck of the steamer, waved his hands to Professor Bumper and his other friends whom he was leaving in Peru, we also, will say farewell.
TOM SWIFT IN THE LAND OF WONDERS
Or, THE UNDERGROUND SEARCH FOR THE IDOL OF GOLD
CHAPTER I
A WONDERFUL STORY
Tom Swift, who had been slowly looking through the pages of a magazine, in the contents of which he seemed to be deeply interested, turned the final folio, ruffled the sheets back again to look at a certain map and drawing, and then, slapping the book down on a table before him, with a noise not unlike that of a shot, exclaimed:
“Well, that is certainly one wonderful story!”
“What’s it about, Tom?” asked his chum, Ned Newton. “Something about inside baseball, or a new submarine that can be converted into an airship on short notice?”
“Neither one, you—you unscientific heathen,” answered Tom, with a laugh at Ned. “Though that isn’t saying such a machine couldn’t be invented.”
“I believe you—that is if you got on its trail,” returned Ned, and there was warm admiration in his voice.
“As for inside baseball, or outside, for that matter, I hardly believe I’d be able to tell third base from the second base, it’s so long since I went to a game,” proceeded Tom. “I’ve been too busy on that new airship stabilizer dad gave me an idea for. I’ve been working too hard, that’s a fact. I need a vacation, and maybe a good baseball game—”
He stopped and looked at the magazine he had so hastily slapped down. Something he had read in it seemed to fascinate him.
“I wonder if it can possibly be true,” he went on. “It sounds like the wildest dream of a professional sleep-walker; and yet, when I stop to think, it isn’t much worse than some of the things we’ve gone through with, Ned.”
“Say, for the love of rice-pudding! will you get down to brass tacks and strike a trial balance? What are you talking of, anyhow? Is it a joke?”
“A joke?”
“Yes. What you just read in that magazine which seems to cause you so much excitement.”
“Well, it may be a joke; and yet the professor seems very much in earnest about it,” replied Tom. “It certainly is one wonderful story!”
“So you said before. Come on—the ‘fillium’ is busted. Splice it, or else put in a new reel and on with the show. I’d like to know what’s doing. What professor are you talking of?”
“Professor Swyington Bumper.”
“Swyington Bumper?” and Ned’s voice showed that his memory was a bit hazy.
“Yes. You ought to remember him. He was on the steamer when I went down to Peru to help the Titus Brothers dig the big tunnel. That plotter Waddington, or some of his tools, dropped a bomb where it might have done us some injury, but Professor Bumper, who was a fellow passenger, on his way to South America to look for the lost city of Pelone, calmly picked up the bomb, plucked out the fuse, and saved us from bad injuries, if not death. And he was as cool about it as an ice-cream cone. Surely you remember!”
“Swyington Bumper! Oh, yes, now I remember him,” said Ned Newton. “But what has he got to do with a wonderful story? Has he written more about the lost city of Pelone? If he has I don’t see anything so very wonderful in that.”
“There isn’t,” agreed Tom. “But this isn’t that,” and Tom picked up the magazine and leafed it to find the article he had been reading.
“Let’s have a look at it,” suggested Ned. “You act as though you might be vitally interested in it. Maybe you’re thinking of joining forces with the professor again, as you did when you dug the big tunnel.”
“Oh, no. I haven’t any such idea,” Tom said. “I’ve got enough work laid out now to keep me in Shopton for the next year. I have no notion of going anywhere with Professor Bumper. Yet I can’t help being impressed by this,” and, having found the article in the magazine to which he referred, he handed it to his chum.
“Why, it’s by Bumper himself!” exclaimed Ned.
“Yes. Though there’s nothing remarkable in that, seeing that he is constantly contributing articles to various publications or writing books. It’s the story itself that’s so wonderful. To save you the trouble of wading through a lot of scientific detail, which I know you don’t care about, I’ll tell you that the story is about a queer idol of solid gold, weighing many pounds, and, in consequence, of great value.”
“Of solid gold you say?” asked Ned eagerly.
“That’s it. Got on your banking air already,” Tom laughed. “To sum it up for you—notice I use the word ‘sum,’ which is very appropriate for a bank—the professor has got on the track of another lost or hidden city. This one, the name of which doesn’t appear, is in the Copan valley of Honduras, and—”
“Copan,” interrupted Ned. “It sounds like the name of some new floor varnish.”
“Well, it isn’t, though it might be,” laughed Tom. “Copan is a city, in the Department of Copan, near the boundary between Honduras and Guatemala. A fact I learned from the article and not because I remembered my geography.”
“I was going to say,” remarked Ned with a smile, “that you were coming it rather strong on the school-book stuff.”
“Oh, it’s all plainly written down there,” and Tom waved toward the magazine at which Ned was looking. “As you’ll see, if you take the trouble to go through it, as I did, Copan is, or maybe was, for all I know, one of the most important centers of the Mayan civilization.”
“What’s Mayan?” asked Ned. “You see I’m going to imbibe my information by the deductive rather than the excavative process,” he added with a laugh.
“I see,” laughed Tom. “Well, Mayan refers to the Mayas, an aboriginal people of Yucatan. The Mayas had a peculiar civilization of their own, thousands of years ago, and their calendar system was so involved—”
“Never mind about dates,” again interrupted Ned. “Get down to brass tacks. I’m willing to take your word for it that there’s a Copan valley in Honduras. But what has your friend Professor Bumper to do with it?”
“This. He has come across some old manuscripts, or ancient document records, referring to this valley, and they state, according to this article he has written for the magazine, that somewhere in the valley is a wonderful city, traces of which have been found twenty to forty feet below the surface, on which great trees are growing, showing that the city was covered hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago.”
“But where does the idol of gold come in?”
“I’m coming to that,” said Tom. “Though, if Professor Bumper has his way, the idol will be coming out instead of coming in.”
“You mean he wants to get it and take it away from the Copan valley, Tom?”
“That’s it, Ned. It has great value not only from the amount of pure gold that is in it, but as an antique. I fancy the professor is more interested in that aspect of it. But he’s written a wonderful story, telling how he happened to come across the ancient manuscripts in the tomb of some old Indian whose mummy he unearthed on a trip to Central America.
“Then he tells of the trouble he had in discovering how to solve the key to the translation code; but when he did, he found a great story unfolded to him.
“This story has to do with the hidden city, and tells of the ancient civilization of those who lived in the Copan valley thousands of years ago. The people held this idol of gold to be their greatest treasure, and they put to death many of other tribes who sought to steal it.”
“Whew!
” whistled Ned. “That IS some yarn. But what is Professor Bumper going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. The article seems to be written with an idea of interesting scientists and research societies, so that they will raise money to conduct a searching expedition.
“Perhaps by this time the party may be organized—this magazine is several months old. I have been so busy on my stabilizer patent that I haven’t kept up with current literature. Take it home and read it! Ned. That is if you’re through telling me about my affairs,” for Ned, who had formerly worked in the Shopton bank, had recently been made general financial manager of the interests of Tom and his father. The two were inventors and proverbially poor business men, though they had amassed a fortune.
“Your financial affairs are all right, Tom,” said Ned. “I have just been going over the books, and I’ll submit a detailed report later.”
The telephone bell rang and Tom picked up the instrument from the desk. As he answered in the usual way and then listened a moment, a strange look came over his face.
“Well, this certainly is wonderful!” he exclaimed, in much the same manner as when he had finished reading the article about the idol. “It certainly is a strange coincidence,” he added, speaking in an aside to Ned while he himself still listened to what was being told to him over the telephone wire.
CHAPTER II
PROFESSOR BUMPER ARRIVES
“What’s the matter, Tom? What is it?” asked Ned Newton, attracted by the strange manner of his chum at the telephone. “Has anything happened?”
But the young inventor was too busy listening to the unseen speaker to answer his chum, even if he heard what Ned remarked, which is doubtful.
“Well, I might as well wait until he is through,” mused Ned, as he started to leave the room. Then as Tom motioned to him to remain, he murmured: “He may have something to say to me later. But I wonder who is talking to him.”
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