Tom Swift and His Big Tunnel; Or, The Hidden City of the Andes

by Victor Appleton

  Chapter XVIII

  The Indian Strike

  Snatching up in her arms the now awakened child, the woman gazed for amoment into its face, which she covered with kisses. Then theherb-gatherer looked over to the dead, limp body of the great condor,and from thence to Tom.

  In another moment the woman had rushed forward, and knelt at the feetof the young inventor. Holding the baby in one arm, in her other handthe woman seized Tom's and kissed it fervently, at the same time pouringforth a torrent of impassioned language, of which Tom could only makeout a word now and then. But he gathered that the woman was thankinghim for having saved the child.

  "Oh, that's all right," Tom said, rather embarrassed by thehand-kissing. "It was an easy shot."

  An Indian came bursting through the bushes, evidently the woman'shusband by the manner in which she greeted him, and Tom recognized thenewcomer as one of the tunnel workers. There was some quickconversation between the husband and wife, in which the latter made allsorts of motions, including in their scope Tom, his rifle, the deadcondor and the now smiling baby.

  The man took off his hat and approached Tom, genuflecting as he mighthave done in church.

  "She say you save baby from condor," the man said in his haltingEnglish. "She t'ank you--me, I t'ank you. Bird see babe in deerskin--t'ink um dead animal. Maybe so bird carry baby off, drop um onsharp stone, baby smile no more. You have our lives, senor! We doanyt'ing we can for you."

  "Thanks," said Tom, easily. "I'm glad I happened to be around. Isupposed condors only went for things dead, but I reckon, as you say,it mistook the baby in the deer skin for a dead animal. And I guess itmight have carried your little one off, or at least lifted it up, andthen it might have dropped it far enough to have killed it. It sure isa big bird," and Tom strolled over to look at what he had bagged.

  The condor of the Andes is the largest bird of prey in existence. Onein the Bronx Zoo, in New York, with his wings spread out, measured alittle short of ten feet from tip to tip. Measure ten feet out on theground and then imagine a bird with that wing stretch.

  This same condor in the park was made angry by a boy throwing a featherboa up into the air outside the cage. The condor raised himself fromthe ground, and hurled himself against the heavy wire netting so thatthe whole, big cage shook. And the breeze caused by the flapping wingsblew off the hats of several spectators. So powerful was the air forcefrom the condor's wings that it reminded one of the current caused whenstanding behind the propellers of an aeroplane in motion. The condorrarely attacks living persons or animals, though it has been known tocarry off big sheep when driven by hunger.

  It was one of these animals Tom Swift had shot with his electric rifle.

  "We do anyt'ing you want," the man gratefully repeated.

  "Well, I've got about all I want," Tom said. "But if you could tell mewhere those ten missing men are, and how they got out of the tunnel,I'd be obliged to you."

  The woman did not seem to comprehend Tom's talk, but the man did. Hestarted, and fear seemed to come over him.

  "Me--I--I can not tell," he murmured.

  "No, I don't suppose you can," said Tom, musingly. "Well, it doesn'tmatter, I guess I'll have to cross it off my books. I'll never findout."

  Again the Indian and his wife expressed their gratitude, and Tom, afterletting the little brown baby cling to his finger, and patting itschubby cheek, went on his way with Koku.

  "Well, that was some excitement," mused Tom, who made little of theshot itself, for the condor was such a mark that he would have had toaim very badly indeed to miss it. And perhaps only the electric riflecould have killed quickly enough to prevent the baby's being injured insome way by the big bird, even though it was dying.

  "Master heap good shot!" exclaimed Koku, admiringly.

  The tunnel work went on, though not so well as when Tom's explosive wasfirst used. The rock was indeed getting harder and was not so easilyshattered. Tom made tests of the pieces he had obtained from theoutcropping ledge on the mountain where he had shot the condor, anddecided to make a change in the powder.

  Shipments were regularly received from Shopton, Mr. Swift keepingthings in progress there. Mr. Damon's business was going onsatisfactorily, and he lent what aid he could to Tom. As for ProfessorBumper he kept on with his search for the lost city of Pelone, but withno success.

  The scientist wanted Tom and Mr. Damon to go on another trip with him,this time to a distant sierra, or fertile valley, where it was reporteda race of Indians lived, different from others in that region.

  "It may be that they are descendants from the Pelonians," suggested theprofessor. Tom was too busy to go, but Mr. Damon went. The expeditionhad all sorts of trouble, losing its way and getting into a swamp fromwhich escape was not easy. Then, too, the strange Indians provedhostile, and the professor and his party could not get nearer than theboundaries of the valley.

  "But the difficulties and the hostile attitude of these natives onlymakes me surer that I am on the right track," said Mr. Bumper. "I shalltry again."

  Tom was busy over a problem in explosives one day when he saw TimSullivan hurrying into the office of the two brothers. The Irishmanseemed excited.

  "I hope there hasn't been another premature blast," mused Tom. "But ifthere had been I think I'd have heard it."

  He hastened out to see Job and Walter Titus in excited conversationwith Tim.

  "They didn't come out, an' thot's all there is to it," the foreman wassaying. "I sint thim in mesilf, and they worked until it was time t'set off th' blast. I wint t' get th' fuse, an' I was goin' t' send th'black imps out of danger, whin--whist--they was gone whin I gotback--fifteen of 'em this time!"

  "Do you mean that fifteen more of our men have vanished as the firstten did?" asked Job Titus.

  "That's what I mean," asserted the Irishman.

  "It can't be!" declared Walter.

  "Look for yersilf!" returned Tim. "They're not in th' tunnel!"

  "And they didn't come out?"

  "Ask th' time-keeper," and Tim motioned to a young Englishman who,since the other disappearance, had been stationed at the mouth of thetunnel to keep a record of who went in and came out.

  "No, sir! Nobody kime hout, sir!" the Englishman declared. "Hi 'aven'tbeen away frim 'ere, sir, not since hi wint on duty, sir. An' no onekime out, no, sir!"

  "We've got to stop this!" declared Job Titus.

  "I should say so!" agreed his brother.

  With Tom and Tim the Titus brothers went into the tunnel. It wasdeserted, and not a trace of the men could be found. Their tools werewhere they had been dropped, but of the men not a sign.

  "There must be some secret way out," declared Tom.

  "Then we'll find it," asserted the brothers.

  Work on the tunnel was stopped for a day, and, keeping out all natives,the contractors, with Tom and such white men as they had in theiremploy, went over every foot of roof, sides and floor in the big shaft.But not a crack or fissure, large enough to permit the passage of achild, much less a man, could be found.

  "Well, I give up!" cried Walter Titus in despair. "There must bewitchcraft at work here!"

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed his brother. "It's more likely the craft ofBlakeson & Grinder, with Waddington helping them."

  "Well, if a human agency made these twenty-five men disappear, proveit!" insisted Walter.

  His brother did not know what to say.

  "Well, go on with the work," was Job's final conclusion. "We'll haveone of the white men constantly in the tunnel after this whenever agang is working. We won't leave the natives alone even long enough togo to get a fuse. They'll be under constant supervision."

  The tunnel was opened for work, but there were no workers. The morningafter the investigation, when the starting whistle blew there was noline of Indians ready to file into the big, black hole. The huts wherethey slept were deserted. A strange silence brooded over the tunnelcamp.

  "Where are the men, Serato?" asked Tom of the Indian forem
an.

  "Men um gone. No work any more. What you call a hit."

  "You mean a strike?" asked Tom.

  "Sure--strike--hit--all um same. No more work--um 'fraid!"