The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “If it’s a question of making a profit on it, Tom,” began Mr. Damon, “I can let you have some money until—”

  “Oh, no! It isn’t the money!” cried Tom. “Don’t think that for a moment. You see the European war has called for the use of a large number of aeroplanes, and as the pilots of them frequently have to fight, and so can not give their whole attention to the machines, some form of automatic stabilizer is needed to prevent them turning turtle, or going off at a wrong tangent.

  “So I have been working out a sort of modified gyroscope, and it seems to answer the purpose. I have already received advance orders for a number of my devices from abroad, and as they are destined to save lives I feel that I ought to keep on with my work.

  “I’d like to go, don’t misunderstand me, but I can’t go at this time. It is out of the question. If you wait a year, or maybe six months—”

  “No, it is impossible to wait, Tom,” declared Professor Bumper.

  “Is it so important then to hurry?” asked Mr. Damon. “You did not mention that to me, Professor Bumper.”

  “No, I did not have time. There are so many ends to my concerns. But, Tom Swift, you simply must go!”

  “I can’t, my dear professor, much as I should like to.”

  “But, Tom, think of it!” cried Mr. Damon, who was as much excited as was the little bald-headed scientist. “You never saw such an idol of gold as this. What’s its name?” and he looked questioningly at the professor.

  “Quitzel the idol is called,” supplied Professor Bumper. “And it is supposed to be in a buried city named Kurzon, somewhere in the Sierra de Merendon range of mountains, in the vicinity of the Copan valley. Copan is a city, or maybe we’ll find it only a town when we get there, and it is not far from the borders of Guatemala.

  “Tom, if I could show you the translations I have made of the ancient documents, referring to this idol and the wonderful city over which it kept guard, I’m sure you’d come with us.”

  “Please don’t tempt me,” Tom said with a laugh. “I’m only too anxious to go, and if it wasn’t for the stabilizer I’d be with you in a minute. But— Well, you’ll have to get along without me. Maybe I can join you later.”

  “What’s this about the idol keeping guard over the ancient city?” asked Ned, for he was interested in strange stories.

  “It seems,” explained the professor, “that in the early days there was a strange race of people, inhabiting Central America, with a somewhat high civilization, only traces of which remained when the Spaniards came.

  “But these traces, and such hieroglyphics, or, to be more exact pictographs, as I have been able to decipher from the old documents, tell of one country, or perhaps it was only a city, over which this great golden idol of Quitzel presided.

  “There is in some of these papers a description of the idol, which is not exactly a beauty, judged from modern standards. But the main fact is that it is made of solid gold, and may weigh anywhere from one to two tons.”

  “Two tons of gold!” cried New Newton. “Why, if that’s the case it would be worth—” and he fell to doing a sum in mental arithmetic.

  “I am not so concerned about the monetary value of the statue as I am about its antiquity,” went on Professor Bumper. “There are other statues in this buried city of Kurzon, and though they may not be so valuable they will give me a wealth of material for my research work.”

  “How do you know there are other statues?” asked Mr. Damon.

  “Because my documents tell me so. It was because the people made other idols, in opposition, as it were, to Quitzel, that their city or country was destroyed. At least that is the legend. Quitzel, so the story goes, wanted to be the chief god, and when the image of a rival was set up in the temple near him, he toppled over in anger, and part of the temple went with him, the whole place being buried in ruins. All the inhabitants were killed, and trace of the ancient city was lost forever. No, I hope not forever, for I expect to find it.”

  “If all the people were killed, and the city buried, how did the story of Quitzel become known?” asked Mr. Damon.

  “One only of the priests in the temple of Quitzel escaped and set down part of the tale,” said the professor. “It is his narrative, or one based on it, that I have given you.”

  “And now, what I want to do, is to go and make a search for this buried city. I have fairly good directions as to how it may be reached. We will have little difficulty in getting to Honduras, as there are fruit steamers frequently sailing. Of course going into the interior—to the Copan valley—is going to be harder. But an expedition from a large college was recently there and succeeded, after much labor, in excavating part of a buried city. Whether or not it was Kurzon I am unable to say.

  “But if there was one ancient city there must be more. So I want to make an attempt. And I counted on you, Tom. You have had considerable experience in strange quarters of the earth, and you’re just the one to help me. I don’t need money, for I have interested a certain millionaire, and my own college will put up part of the funds.”

  “Oh, it isn’t a question of money,” said Tom. “It’s time.”

  “That’s just what it is with me!” exclaimed Professor Bumper. “I haven’t any time to lose. My rivals may, even now, be on their way to Honduras!”

  “Your rivals!” cried Tom. “You didn’t say anything about them!”

  “No, I believe I didn’t. There were so many other things to talk about. But there is a rival archaeologist who would ask nothing better than to get ahead of me in this matter. He is younger than I am, and youth is a big asset nowadays.”

  “Pooh! You’re not old!” cried Mr. Damon. “You’re no older than I am, and I’m still young. I’m a lot younger than some of these boys who are afraid to tackle a trip through a tropical wilderness,” and he playfully nudged Tom in the ribs.

  “I’m not a bit afraid!” retorted the young inventor.

  “No, I know you’re not,” laughed Mr. Damon. “But I’ve got to say something, Tom, to stir you up. Ned, how about you? Would you go?”

  “I can’t, unless Tom does. You see I’m his financial man now.”

  “There you are, Tom Swift!” cried Mr. Damon. “You see you are holding back a number of persons just because you don’t want to go.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t like to go without Tom,” said the professor slowly. “I really need his help. You know, Tom, we would never have found the city of Pelone if it had not been for you and your marvelous powder. The conditions in the Copan valley are likely to be still more difficult to overcome, and I feel that I risk failure without your young energy and your inventive mind to aid in the work and to suggest possible means of attaining our object. Come, Tom, reconsider, and decide to make the trip.”

  “And my promise to go was dependent on Tom’s agreement to accompany us,” said Mr. Damon.

  “Come on!” urged the professor, much as one boy might urge another to take part in a ball game. “Don’t let my rival get ahead of me.”

  “I wouldn’t like to see that,” Tom said slowly. “Who is he—any one I know?”

  “I don’t believe so, Tom. He’s connected with a large, new college that has plenty of money to spend on explorations and research work. Beecher is his name—Fenimore Beecher.”

  “Beecher!” exclaimed Tom, and there was such a change in his manner that his friends could not help noticing it. He jumped to his feet, his eyes snapping, and he looked eagerly and anxiously at Professor Bumper.

  “Did you say his name was Fenimore Beecher?” Tom asked in a tense voice.

  “That’s what it is—Professor Fenimore Beecher. He is really a learned young man, and thoroughly in earnest, though I do not like his manner. But he is trying to get ahead of me, which may account for my feeling.”

  Tom Swift did not answer. Instead he hurried from the room with a murmured apology.

  “I’ll be back in about five minutes,” he said, as he went out.

  “W
ell, what’s up now?” asked Mr. Damon of Ned, as the young inventor departed. “What set him off that way?”

  “The mention of Beecher’s name, evidently. Though I never heard him mention such a person before.”

  “Nor did I ever hear Professor Beecher speak of Tom,” said the bald-headed scientist. “Well, we’ll just have to wait until—”

  At that moment Tom came back into the room.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, “I have reconsidered my refusal to go to the Copan valley after the idol of gold. I’m going with you!”

  “Good!” cried Professor Bumper.

  “Fine!” ejaculated Mr. Damon. “Bless my time-table! I thought you’d come around, Tom Swift.”

  “But what about your stabilizer?” asked Ned.

  “I was just talking to my father about it,” the young inventor replied. “He will be able to put the finishing touches on it. So I’ll leave it with him. As soon as I can get ready I’ll go, since you say haste is necessary, Professor Bumper.”

  “It is, if we are to get ahead of Beecher.”

  “Then we’ll get ahead of him!” cried Tom. “I’m with you now from the start to the finish. I’ll show him what I can do!” he added, while Ned and the others wondered at the sudden change in their friend’s manner.

  CHAPTER V

  THE LITTLE GREEN GOD

  “Tom how soon can we go?” asked Professor Bumper, as he began arranging his papers, maps and documents ready to place them back in the valise.

  “Within a week, if you want to start that soon.”

  “The sooner the better. A week will suit me. I don’t know just what Beecher’s plans are, but, he may try to get on the ground first. Though, without boasting, I may say that he has not had as much experience as I have had, thanks to you, Tom, when you helped me find the lost city of Pelone.”

  “Well, I hope we’ll be as successful this time,” murmured Tom. “I don’t want to see Beecher beat you.”

  “I didn’t know you knew him, Tom,” said the professor.

  “Oh, yes, I have met him, once,” and there was something in Tom’s manner, though he tried to speak indifferently, that made Ned believe there was more behind his chum’s sudden change of determination than had yet appeared.

  “He never mentioned you,” went on Professor Bumper; “yet the last time I saw him I said I was coming to see you, though I did not tell him why.”

  “No, he wouldn’t be likely to speak of me,” said Tom significantly.

  “Well, if that’s all settled, I guess I’ll go back home and pack up,” said Mr. Damon, making a move to depart.

  “There’s no special rush,” Tom said. “We won’t leave for a week. I can’t get ready in much less time than that.”

  “Bless my socks! I know that,” ejaculated Mr. Damon. “But if I get my things packed I can go to a hotel to stay while my wife is away. She might take a notion to come home unexpectedly, and, though she is a dear, good soul, she doesn’t altogether approve of my going off on these wild trips with you, Tom Swift. But if I get all packed, and clear out, she can’t find me and she can’t hold me back. She is visiting her mother now. I can send her a wire from Kurzon after I get there.”

  “I don’t believe the telegraph there is working,” laughed Professor Bumper. “But suit yourself. I must go back to New York to arrange for the goods we’ll have to take with us. In a week, Tom, we’ll start.”

  “You must stay to dinner,” Tom said. “You can’t get a train now anyhow, and father wants to meet you again. He’s pretty well, considering his age. And he’s much better I verily believe since I said I’d turn over to him the task of finishing the stabilizer. He likes to work.”

  “We’ll stay and take the night train back,” agreed Mr. Damon. “It will be like old times, Tom,” he went on, “traveling off together into the wilds. Central America is pretty wild, isn’t it?” he asked, as if in fear of being disappointed! on that score.

  “Oh, it’s wild enough to suit any one,” answered Professor Bumper.

  “Well, now to settle a few details,” observed Tom. “Ned, what is the situation as regards the financial affairs of my father and myself? Nothing will come to grief if we go away, will there?”

  “I guess not, Tom. But are you going to take your father with you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “But you spoke of ‘we.’”

  “I meant you and I are going.”

  “Me, Tom?”

  “Sure, you! I wouldn’t think of leaving you behind. You want Ned along, don’t you, Professor?”

  “Of course. It will be an ideal party—we four. We’ll have to take natives when we get to Honduras, and make up a mule pack-train for the interior. I had some thoughts of asking you to take an airship along, but it might frighten the Indians, and I shall have to depend on them for guides, as well as for porters. So it will be an old-fashioned expedition, in a way.”

  Mr. Swift came in at this point to meet his old friends.

  “The boy needs a little excitement,” he said. “He’s been puttering over that stabilizer invention too long. I can finish the model for him in a very short time.”

  Professor Bumper told Mr. Swift something about the proposed trip, while Mr. Damon went out with Tom and Ned to one of the shops to look at a new model aeroplane the young inventor had designed.

  There was a merry party around the table at dinner, though now and then Ned noticed that Tom had an abstracted and preoccupied air.

  “Thinking about the idol of gold?” asked Ned in a whisper to his chum, when they were about to leave the table.

  “The idol of gold? Oh, yes! Of course! It will be great if we can bring that back with us.” But the manner in which he said this made Ned feel sure that Tom had had other thoughts, and that he had used a little subterfuge in his answer.

  Ned was right, as he proved for himself a little later, when, Mr. Damon and the professor having gone home, the young financial secretary took his friend to a quiet corner and asked:

  “What’s the matter, Tom?”

  “Matter? What do you mean?”

  “I mean what made you make up your mind so quickly to go on this expedition when you heard Beecher was going?”

  “Oh—er—well, you wouldn’t want to see our old friend Professor Bumper left, would you, after he had worked out the secret of the idol of gold? You wouldn’t want some young whipper-snapper to beat him in the race, would you, Ned?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Neither would I. That’s why I changed my mind. This Beecher isn’t going to get that idol if I can stop him!”

  “You seem rather bitter against him.”

  “Bitter? Oh, not at all. I simply don’t want to see my friends disappointed.”

  “Then Beecher isn’t a friend of yours?”

  “Oh, I’ve met him, that is all,” and Tom tried to speak indifferently.

  “Humph!” mused Ned, “there’s more here than I dreamed of. I’m going to get at the bottom of it.”

  But though Ned tried to pump Tom, he was not successful. The young inventor admitted knowing the youthful scientist, but that was all, Tom reiterating his determination not to let Professor Bumper be beaten in the race for the idol of gold.

  “Let me see,” mused Ned, as he went home that evening. “Tom did not change his mind until he heard Beecher’s name mentioned. Now this shows that Beecher had something to do with it. The only reason Tom doesn’t want Beecher to get this idol or find the buried city is because Professor Bumper is after it. And yet the professor is not an old or close friend of Tom’s. They met only when Tom went to dig his big tunnel. There must be some other reason.”

  Ned did some more thinking. Then he clapped his hands together, and a smile spread over his face.

  “I believe I have it!” he cried. “The little green god as compared to the idol of gold! That’s it. I’m going to make a call on my way home.”

  This he did, stopping at the home of Mary Nestor,
a pretty girl, who, rumor had it, was tacitly engaged to Tom. Mary was not at home, but Mr. Nestor was, and for Ned’s purpose this answered.

  “Well, well, glad to see you!” exclaimed Mary’s father. “Isn’t Tom with you?” he asked a moment later, seeing that Ned was alone.

  “No, Tom isn’t with me this evening,” Ned answered. “The fact is, he’s getting ready to go off on another expedition, and I’m going with him.”

  “You young men are always going somewhere,” remarked Mrs. Nestor. “Where is it to this time?”

  “Some place in Central America,” Ned answered, not wishing to be too particular. He was wondering how he could find out what he wanted to know, when Mary’s mother unexpectedly gave him just the information he was after.

  “Central America!” she exclaimed. “Why, Father,” and she looked at her husband, “that’s where Professor Beecher is going, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I believe he did mention something about that.”

  “Professor Beecher, the man who is an authority on Aztec ruins?” asked Ned, taking a shot in the dark.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Nestor. “And a mighty fine young man he is, too. I knew his father well. He was here on a visit not long ago, young Beecher was, and he talked most entertainingly about his discoveries. You remember how interested Mary was, Mother?”

  “Yes, she seemed to be,” said Mrs. Nestor. “Tom Swift dropped in during the course of the evening,” she added to Ned, “and Mary introduced him to Professor Beecher. But I can’t say that Tom was much interested in the professor’s talk.”

  “No?” questioned Ned.

  “No, not at all. But Tom did not stay long. He left just as Mary and the professor were drawing a map so the professor could indicate where he had once made a big discovery.”

  “I see,” murmured Ned. “Well, I suppose Tom must have been thinking of something else at the time.”

  “Very likely,” agreed Mr. Nestor. “But Tom missed a very profitable talk. I was very much interested myself in what the professor told us, and so was Mary. She invited Mr. Beecher to come again. He takes after his father in being very thorough in what he does.