The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Yes, Tom Swift, that is true,” agreed the scientist. “I am not going to give up, but I shall have to change my plans a little. Perhaps you will come into the tent with me,” and he nodded to Tom and Ned. “I want to talk over certain matters with you and Mr. Damon.”

  “Pleased to,” assented the young inventor, and his financial secretary nodded.

  A little later, supper having been eaten, the camp made shipshape and the natives settled down, Tom, Ned, Mr. Damon and Professor Bumper assembled in the tent of the scientist, where a dry battery lamp gave sufficient illumination to show a number of maps and papers scattered over an improvised table.

  “Now, gentlemen,” said the professor, “I have called you here to go over my plans more in detail than I have hitherto done, now we are on the ground. You know in a general way what I hope to accomplish, but the time has come when I must be specific.

  “Aside from being on the spot, below which, or below the vicinity where, I believe, lies the lost city of Kurzon and, I hope, the idol of gold, a situation has arisen—an unexpected situation, I may say—which calls for different action from that I had counted on.

  “I refer to the presence of my rival, Professor Beecher. I will not dwell now on what he has done. It is better to consider what he may do.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Ned. “He may get up in the night, dig up this city and skip with that golden image before we know it.”

  “Hardly,” grinned Tom.

  “No,” said Professor Bumper. “Excavating buried cities in the jungle of Honduras is not as simple as that. There is much work to be done. But accidents may happen, and in case one should occur to me, and I be unable to prosecute the search, I want one of you to do it. For that reason I am going to show you the maps and ancient documents and point out to you where I believe the lost city lies. Now, if you will give me your attention, I’ll proceed.”

  The professor went over in detail the story of how he had found the old documents relating to the lost city of Kurzon, and of how, after much labor and research, he had located the city in the Copan valley. The great idol of gold was one of the chief possessions of Kurzon, and it was often referred to in the old papers; copies and translations of which the professor had with him.

  “But this is the most valuable of all,” he said, as he opened an oiled-silk packet. “And before I show it to you, suppose you two young men take a look outside the tent.”

  “What for?” asked Mr. Damon.

  “To make sure that no emissaries from the Beecher crowd are sneaking around to overhear what we say,” was the somewhat bitter answer of the scientist. “I do not trust him, in spite of his attempted denial.”

  Tom and Ned took a quick but thorough observation outside the tent. The blackness of the jungle night was in strange contrast to the light they had just left.

  “Doesn’t seem to be any one around here,” remarked Ned, after waiting a minute or two.

  “No. All’s quiet along the Potomac. Those Beecher natives are having some sort of a song-fest, though.”

  In the distance, and from the direction of their rivals’ camp, came the weird chant.

  “Well, as long as they stay there we’ll be all right,” said Tom. “Come on in. I’m anxious to hear what the professor has to say.”

  “Everything’s quiet,” reported Ned.

  “Then give me your attention,” begged the scientist.

  Carefully, as though about to exhibit some, precious jewel, he loosened the oiled-silk wrappings and showed a large map, on thin but tough paper.

  “This is drawn from the old charts,” the professor explained. “I worked on it many months, and it is the only copy in the world. If it were to be destroyed I should have to go all the way back to New York to make another copy. I have the original there in a safe deposit vault.”

  “Wouldn’t it have been wise to make two copies?” asked Tom.

  “It would have only increased the risk. With one copy, and that constantly in my possession, I can be sure of my ground. Otherwise not. That is why I am so careful of this. Now I will show you why I believe we are about over the ancient city of Kurzon.”

  “Over it!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my gunpowder! What do you mean?” and he looked down at the earthen floor of the tent as though expecting it to open and swallow him.

  “I mean that the city, like many others of Central and South America, is buried below the refuse of centuries,” went on the professor. “Very soon, if we are fortunate, we shall be looking on the civilization of hundreds of years ago—how long no one knows.

  “Considerable excavation has been done in Central America,” went on Professor Bumper, “and certain ruins have been brought to light. Near us are those of Copan, while toward the frontier are those of Quirigua, which are even better preserved than the former. We may visit them if we have time. But I have reason to believe that in this section of Copan is a large city, the existence of which has not been made certain of by any one save myself—and, perhaps, Professor Beecher.

  “Certainly no part of it has seen the light of day for many centuries. It shall be our pleasure to uncover it, if possible, and secure the idol of gold.”

  “How long ago do you think the city was buried?” asked Tom.

  “It would be hard to say. From the carvings and hieroglyphics I have studied it would seem that the Mayan civilization lasted about five hundred years, and that it began perhaps in the year A. D. five hundred.”

  “That would mean,” said Mr. Damon, “that the ancient cities were in ruins, buried, perhaps, long before Columbus discovered the new world.”

  “Yes,” assented the professor. “Probably Kurzon, which we now seek, was buried deep for nearly five hundred years before Columbus landed at San Salvadore. The specimens of writing and architecture heretofore disclosed indicate that. But, as a matter of fact, it is very hard to decipher the Mayan pictographs. So far, little but the ability to read their calendars and numerical system is possessed by us, though we are gradually making headway.

  “Now this is the map of the district, and by the markings you can see where I hope to find what I seek. We shall begin digging here,” and he made a small mark with a pencil on the map.

  “Of course,” the professor explained, “I may be wrong, and it will take some time to discover the error if we make one. When a city is buried thirty or forty feet deep beneath earth and great trees have grown over it, it is not easy to dig down to it.”

  “How do you ever expect to find it?” asked Ned.

  “Well, we will sink shafts here and there. If we find carved stones, the remains of ancient pottery and weapons, parts of buildings or building stones, we shall know we are on the right track,” was the answer. “And now that I have shown you the map, and explained how valuable it is, I will put it away again. We shall begin our excavations in the morning.”

  “At what point?” asked Tom.

  “At a point I shall indicate after a further consultation of the map. I must see the configuration of the country by daylight to decide. And now let’s get some rest. We have had a hard day.”

  The two tents housing the four white members of the Bumper party were close together, and it was decided that the night would be divided into four watches, to guard against possible treachery on the part of the Beecher crowd.

  “It seems an unkind precaution to take against a fellow scientist,” said Professor Bumper, “but I can not afford to take chances after what has occurred.”

  The others agreed with him, and though standing guard was not pleasant it was done. However the night passed without incident, and then came morning and the excitement of getting breakfast, over which the Indians made merry. They did not like the cold and darkness, and always welcomed the sun, no matter how hot.

  “And now,” cried Tom, when the meal was over, “let us begin the work that has brought us here.”

  “Yes,” agreed Professor Bumper, “I will consult the map, and start the diggers where I think
the city lies, far below the surface. Now, gentlemen, if you will give me your attention—”

  He was seeking through his outer coat pockets, after an ineffectual search in the inner one. A strange look came over his face.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Tom.

  “The map—the map!” gasped the professor. “The map I was showing you last night! The map that tells where we are to dig for the idol of gold! It’s gone!”

  “The map gone?” gasped Mr. Damon.

  “I—I’m afraid so,” faltered the professor. “I put it away carefully, but now—”

  He ceased speaking to make a further search in all his pockets.

  “Maybe you left it in another coat,” suggested Ned.

  “Or maybe some of the Beecher crowd took it!” snapped Tom.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  “EL TIGRE!”

  The four men gazed at one another. Consternation showed on the face of Professor Bumper, and was reflected, more or less, on the countenances of his companions.

  “Are you sure the map is gone?” asked Tom. “I know how easy it is to mislay anything in a camp of this sort. I couldn’t at first find my safety razor this morning, and when I did locate it the hoe was in one of my shoes. I’m sure a rat or some jungle animal must have dragged it there. Now maybe they took your map, Professor. That oiled silk in which it was wrapped might have appealed to the taste of a rat or a snake.”

  “It is no joking matter,” said Professor Bumper. “But I know you appreciate the seriousness of it as much as I do, Tom. But I had the map in the pocket of this coat, and now it is gone!”

  “When did you put it there?” asked Ned.

  “This morning, just before I came to breakfast.”

  “Oh, then you have had it since last night!” Tom ejaculated.

  “Yes, I slept with it under my clothes that I rolled up for a pillow, and when it was my turn to stand guard I took it with me. Then I put it back again and went to sleep. When I awoke and dressed I put the packet in my pocket and ate breakfast. Now when I look for it—why, it’s gone!”

  “The map or the oiled-silk package?” asked Mr. Damon, who, once having been a businessman, was sometimes a stickler for small points.

  “Both,” answered the professor. “I opened the silk to tie it more smoothly, so it would not be such a lump in my pocket, and I made sure the map was inside.”

  “Then the whole thing has been taken—or you have lost it,” suggested Ned.

  “I am not in the habit of losing valuable maps,” retorted the scientist. “And the pocket of my coat I had made deep, for the purpose of carrying the long map. It could not drop out.”

  “Well, we mustn’t overlook any possible chances,” suggested Tom. “Come on now, we’ll search every inch of the ground over which you traveled this morning, Professor.”

  “It MUST be found,” murmured the scientist. “Without it all our work will go for naught.”

  They all went into the tent where the professor and Mr. Damon had slept when they were not on guard. The camp was a busy place, with the Indians finishing their morning meal, and getting ready for the work of the day. For word had been given out that there would be no more long periods of travel.

  In consequence, efforts were being directed by the head men of the bearers to making a more permanent camp in the wilderness. Shelters of palm-thatched huts were being built, a site for cooking fires made, and, at the direction of Mr. Damon, to whom this part was entrusted, some sanitary regulations were insisted on.

  Leaving this busy scene, the four, with solemn faces, proceeded to the tent where it was hoped the map would be found. But though they went through everything, and traced and retraced every place the professor could remember having traversed about the canvas shelter, no signs of the important document could be found.

  “I don’t believe I dropped it out of my pocket,” said the scientist, for perhaps the twentieth time.

  “Then it was taken,” declared Tom.

  “That’s what I say!” chimed in Ned. “And by some of Beecher’s party!”

  “Easy, my boy,” cautioned Mr. Damon. “We don’t want to make accusations we can’t prove.”

  “That is true,” agreed Professor Bumper. “But, though I am sorry to say it of a fellow archaelogist, I can not help thinking Beecher had something to do with the taking of my map.”

  “But how could any of them get it?” asked Mr. Damon. “You say you had the map this morning, and certainly none of them has been in our camp since dawn, though of course it is possible that some of them sneaked in during the night.”

  “It does seem a mystery how it could have been taken in open daylight, while we were about camp together,” said Tom. “But is the loss such a grave one, Professor Bumper?”

  “Very grave. In fact I may say it is impossible to proceed with the excavating without the map.”

  “Then what are we to do?” asked Ned.

  “We must get it back!” declared Tom.

  “Yes,” agreed the scientist, “we can not work without it. As soon as I make a little further search, to make sure it could not have dropped in some out-of-the-way place, I shall go over to Professor Beecher’s camp and demand that he give me back my property.”

  “Suppose he says he hasn’t taken it?” asked Tom.

  “Well, I’m sure he either took it personally, or one of his party did. And yet I can’t understand how they could have come here without our seeing them,” and the professor shook his head in puzzled despair.

  A more detailed search did not reveal the missing map, and Mr. Damon and his friend the scientist were on the point of departing for the camp of their rivals, less than a mile away, when Tom had what really amounted to an inspiration.

  “Look here, Professor!” he cried. “Can you remember any of the details of your map—say, for instance, where we ought to begin excavating to get at the wonders of the underground city?”

  “Well, Tom, I did intend to compare my map with the configuration of the country about here. There is a certain mountain which serves as a landmark and a guide for a starting point. I think that is it over there,” and the scientist pointed to a distant snow-capped peak.

  The party had left the low and marshy land of the true jungle, and were among the foothills, though all about them was dense forest and underbush, which, in reality, was as much a jungle as the lower plains, but was less wet.

  “The point where I believe we should start to dig,” said the professor, “is near the spot where the top of the mountain casts a shadow when the sun is one hour high. At least that is the direction given in the old manuscripts. So, though we can do little without the map, we might make a start by digging there.”

  “No, not there!” exclaimed Tom.

  “Why not?”

  “Because we don’t want to let Beecher’s crowd know that we are on the track of the idol of gold.”

  “But they know anyhow, for they have the map,” commented Ned, puzzled by his chum’s words.

  “Maybe not,” said Tom slowly. “I think this is a time for a big bluff. It may work and it may not. Beecher’s crowd either has the map or they have not. If they have it they will lose no time in trying to find the right place to start digging and then they’ll begin excavating.

  “Very good! If they do that we have a right to dig near the same place. But if they have not the map, which is possible, and if we start to dig where the professor’s memory tells him is the right spot, we’ll only give them the tip, and they’ll dig there also.”

  “I’m sure they have the map,” the professor said. “But I believe your plan is a good one, Tom.”

  “Just what do you propose doing?” asked Ned.

  “Fooling ’em!” exclaimed Tom quickly. “We’ll dig in some place remote from the spot where the mountain casts its shadow. They will think, if they haven’t the map, that we are proceeding by it, and they’ll dig, too. When they find nothing, as will also happen to us, they may go away.


  “If, on the other hand, they have the map, and see us digging at a spot not indicated on it, they will be puzzled, knowing we must have some idea of where the buried city lies. They will think the map is at fault, perhaps, and not make use of it. Then we can get it back.”

  “Bless my hatband!” cried Mr. Damon. “I believe you’re right, Tom. We’ll dig in the wrong place to fool ’em.”

  And this was done. Search for the precious map was given up for the time being, and the professor and his friends set the natives to work digging shafts in the ground, as though sinking them down to the level of the buried city.

  But though this false work was prosecuted with vigor for several days, there was a feeling of despair among the Bumper party over the loss of the map.

  “If we could only get it back!” exclaimed the professor, again and again.

  Meanwhile the Beecher party seemed inactive. True, some members of it did come over to look on from a respectful distance at what the diggers were doing. Some of the rival helpers, under the direction of the head of the expedition, also began sinking shafts. But they were not in the locality remembered by Professor Bumper as being correct.

  “I can’t imagine what they’re up to,” he said. “If they have my map they would act differently, I should think.”

  “Whatever they’re up to,” answered Tom, “the time has come when we can dig at the place where we can hope for results.” And the following day shafts were started in the shadow of the mountain.

  Until some evidence should have been obtained by digging, as to the location beneath the surface of a buried city, there was nothing for the travelers to do but wait. Turns were taken in directing the efforts of the diggers, and an occasional inspection was made of the shafts.

  “What do you expect to find first?” asked Tom of Professor Bumper one day, when the latter was at the top of a shaft waiting for a bucket load of dirt to be hoisted up.

  “Potsherds and artifacts,” was the answer.

  “What sort of bugs are they?” asked Ned with a laugh. He and Tom were about to go hunting with their electric rifles.

  “Artifacts are things made by the Indians—or whatever members of the race who built the ancient cities were called—such as household articles, vases, ornaments, tools and so on. Anything made by artificial means is called an artifact.”