KICKED FOR A GOAL
A LOOK of fear came into the red mottled face of Hankinshaw when he saw
who had hold of him.
“Leggo o’ me,” he said, in a thick voice. “Whazzer matter with you,
anyhow? Regular Buttinski!”
Without saying a word, Tom, with one push of his sinewy arm, shoved the
fellow out of the room. Without relinquishing his grasp on his collar he
forced him through the hall. Mary shrank aside as she watched them
coming.
“Hold the door open, Mary, please,” said Tom.
She did so and the two antagonists passed out.
“Now close it again, please,” called Tom, who did not want her to see
what was going to happen.
The instant the door clicked Tom released his hold on Hankinshaw’s
collar, measured the distance and gave him a tremendous kick that sent
him forward as though he had been struck by a catapult. The man tried to
keep his balance, but was unable to do so and went down to the sidewalk
on his hands and knees. He scrambled snarling to his feet, to find
himself facing Tom, whose face was blazing with wrath.
“Now take yourself off, you loafer,” commanded Tom. “That kick was only
a sample of what I’ll do to you if you don’t. Get along now, or I’ll
muss you up so that your best friends won’t know you.”
There was such deadly determination in the youth’s voice and the force
of that kick had been so mighty that Hankinshaw, who had clenched his
fists, thought better of it and, contenting himself with a string of
coarse expressions, slouched on along the street. Tom watched him until
he had disappeared and then returned to the door, which opened at his
approach.
“I hope you didn’t get into a fight, Tom,” Mary said anxiously.
Tom’s eyes twinkled.
“Nothing like that,” he laughed. “Do I look it? Is my hair mussed? No, I
simply had a little football practice. Hankinshaw was the football. I
kicked him for a goal. I guess you won’t see any more of him. He’s due
to get out of this town anyway in a few days more.”
Mary sighed happily.
“You’re our good angel, Tom,” she said. “You saved my father’s life
once, and you always turn up when I need you most. I don’t know what
we’d do without you.”
“You won’t have to do without me,” replied Tom. “In fact, you couldn’t
lose me if you tried,” and he grinned broadly.
Mary’s parents thanked Tom heartily for his opportune appearance and the
way he had rid them of their obnoxious visitor, and then, because they
were wise parents, they slipped away on different pretexts and left the
young people to themselves.
Tom’s new invention and his projected trip to Texas were eagerly
discussed by the pair. As regards the first, Mary was enthusiastic.
“It’s simply wonderful,” she said, after Tom had detailed to her as far
as he could the plan of his drill, what it had already done and what he
expected it to do. “I don’t see where on earth you get all those ideas
of yours from. Think of all the men who have been studying along those
lines for years without hitting on the thing that you’ve developed in a
few weeks.”
“Oh, some one has to think of it first,” replied Tom. “Then, too,
remember that I had the benefit of what others have already done. It’s
like a band of pioneers going through a forest and taking turns cutting
down the trees to make a trail. Some one of them gets the axe that cuts
down the last tree. But he wouldn’t be there to cut it down if he hadn’t
walked up to it along the paths that the other fellows have made first.”
“That’s just your modest way of putting it,” said Mary. “In this case
the last tree was the toughest, and you cut it down in half the time any
one else would. So there.”
“I’d like to have you on the jury if I were being tried for my life,”
laughed Tom.
But concerning the trip to Texas, Mary was not by any means so
enthusiastic. In fact, her pretty lips had a decided pout.
“It’s an awfully long way off,” she said, “and when you get down there
with your old oil well you’ll forget all about poor little me.”
“Don’t worry, Mary,” he answered. “I’ll write every day.”
The next few days flew by as though on wings, for every waking hour was
crowded. There were many details to be attended to in connection with
the approaching trip. Tom had decided to take along with him the flying
boat that he had used in his trip to Iceland. It was a bigger one than
he ordinarily would have needed, but he wanted to carry along a good
deal of material in addition to that which he would send by rail, so
that he would lose no time in getting to work on the oil well he
proposed to dig. The plane needed a good deal of overhauling to get it
into perfect condition, and Tom often found himself wishing that he had
a dozen hands instead of only two.
Ned, too, had troubles to adjust and was kept as busy, to use his
expression, as a “one-armed paperhanger with the hives.” The contract
with the Hankinshaw crowd had been completed and the material was ready
for shipment. But the final check in payment was slow in coming. When at
last it did come, Ned advised that they should not at once ship the
machinery. He telegraphed the bank and found that there was not
sufficient money on hand to meet the check when presented. The idea of
the sharpers had been, of course, that in the ordinary course the check
would not be presented for several days at the California bank. Then, if
refused, several days more would elapse before the protested check would
get back to Shopton. By that time they figured that the material would
be far on its way to Texas and the Swift Construction Company could
whistle for its money.
“But anybody that gets the best of Ned Newton in financial matters will
have to get up pretty early in the morning, and the Hankinshaw crowd did
not get up early enough,” laughed Tom.
Ned’s precautionary telegram thwarted the scheme, and the foiled
conspirators, after lame explanations, were forced to pay in actual
cash—no check this time—for the final payment. Then the stop order was
lifted and the material was put on board the train for its long journey
to the oil fields.
“And that’s that,” remarked Ned, with a sigh of relief after the last
detail had been attended to. “Thank goodness, that’s off our hands. The
Swift Construction Company never had so much bother with a contract in
its life. When those fellows want some more machinery, I’d say, let them
apply to some one else. We’re fed up with them.”
“Right you are,” agreed Tom. “Just what part of Texas did you ship it
to?”
“Copperhead,” answered Ned. “That’s right in the heart of a newly
developed oil region.”
“Copperhead,” repeated Tom. “Sounds like a snake.”
“There’ll be some snakes there when the Hankinshaw crowd get on the
job,” affirmed Ned.
“I think we’ll make that our destination,” said Tom thoughtfully.
“Why?” asked Ned.
“Well,” said Tom, “we’ve got to pick out some place to begin, and that’s
probably as good as any other. Then, too, I have some curiosity to see
what Hankinshaw and his brother snakes are doing.”
“Whom they’re doing, you mean,” suggested Ned.
“I suppose that would be more correct,” said Tom with a smile. “What I’m
thinking of especially is that old blind man that Mr. Damon told us
about. You remember, don’t you, that he said that the Hankinshaw crowd
were out to swindle him out of his property? Perhaps we can put a spoke
in their wheel.”
Ned groaned.
“Great Scott, Tom!” he exclaimed. “Can’t you stick to business and stop
looking for trouble?”