TOM IS CAPTURED
Meanwhile the young inventor, aided by his father, Mr. Sharp and Garret
Jackson, the engineer, worked hard over his new car, and the powerful
batteries. A month passed, and such was the progress made that Tom felt
justified in making formal entry of his vehicle for the races to be
held by the Touring Club of America.
He paid a contingent fee and was listed as one of the competitors. As
is usual in an affair of this kind, the promoters of it desired
publicity, and they sought it through the papers.
Consequently each new entrant's name was published. In addition
something was said about his previous achievements in the speed line.
No sooner was the name of Tom Swift received by the officials of the
club, than it was at once recalled that young Swift had had a prominent
part in the airship Red Cloud, and the submarine Advance. This gave an
enterprising reporter a chance for a "special" for the Sunday
supplement of a New York newspaper.
Tom, it was stated, was building a car which would practically
annihilate distance and time, and there were many weird pictures,
showing him flying along without touching the ground, in a car, the
pictorial construction of which was at once fearful and wonderful.
Tom and his friends laughed at the yarn, at first, but it soon had
undesirable results. The young inventor had desired to keep secret the
fact that he was building a new electric vehicle, and a novel storage
battery, but the article in the paper aroused considerable interest.
Many persons came a long distance, hoping for a sight of the wonderful
car, as pictured in the Sunday supplement, but they had to be denied.
The news, thus leaking out, kept the Swift shops almost constantly
besieged by many curious ones, who sought, by various means, to gain
admission. Finally Tom and his father, after posting large signs,
warning persons to keep away, added others to the effect that
undesirable visitors might find themselves unexpectedly shocked by
electricity, if they ventured too close. This had the desired effect,
though the wires which were strung about carried such a mild charge
that it would not have harmed a child. Then the only bothersome
characters were the boys of the town, and, fearless and careless lads,
they persisted in hanging around the Swift homestead, in the hope of
seeing Tom dash away at the rate of five hundred miles an hour, which
one enthusiastic writer predicted he would do.
"I've got a plan!" exclaimed Tom one day when the boys had been
particularly troublesome.
"What is it?" asked his father.
"We'll hire Eradicate Sampson to stand guard with a bucket of
whitewash. He'll keep the boys away."
The plan was put into operation, and Eradicate and his mule, Boomerang,
were installed on the premises.
"Deed an' Ah'll keep dem lads away," promised the colored man. "Ah'll
splash white stuff all ober 'em, if dey comes traipsin' around me."
He was as good as his word, and, when one or two lads had received a
dose of the stuff, which punishment was followed by more severe from
home, for having gotten their clothes soiled, the nuisance ceased, to a
certain extent. Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey were two who received a
liberal sprinkling of the lime, and they vowed vengeance on Tom.
"And Andy Foger will help us, too," added Sam, as he withdrew, after an
encounter with Eradicate.
"Doan't let dat worry yo', Mistah Swift!" exclaimed the darkey. "Jest
let dat low-down-good-fo-nuffin' Andy Foger come 'round me, an' Ah'll
make him t'ink he's de inside ob a chicken coop, dat's what Ah will."
Perhaps Andy heard of this, and kept away. In the meanwhile Tom kept on
perfecting his car and battery. From the club secretary he learned that
a number of inventors were working on electric cars, and there promised
to be many of the speedy vehicles in the race.
After considerable labor Tom had succeeded in getting together one set
of the batteries. He had them completed one afternoon, and wanted to
give them a test that night. But, when he went to his father's chemical
laboratory for a certain powder, which he needed to use in the battery
solution, he found there was none.
"I'll have to ride in to Mansburg for some," he decided. "I'll go after
supper, on my motor-cycle, and test the battery to-night."
The young inventor left his house immediately after the evening meal.
Along the road toward Mansburg he speeded, and, as he came to the foot
of a hill, where once Andy Foger had put a big tree, hoping Tom would
run into it and be injured, the youth recalled that circumstance.
"Andy has been keeping out of my way lately," mused Tom. "I wonder if
he's up to any mischief? I don't like the way Sam Snedecker is hanging
around the shop, either. It looks as if they were plotting something.
But I guess Eradicate and his pail of whitewash will scare them off."
Tom got the powdered chemical he wanted in the drug store, and, after
refreshing himself with some ice cream soda, he started back. As he
rode along through the streets of the town he kept a lookout, and those
of you who know how fond the lad was of a certain young lady, do not
need to be told for whom he was looking. But he did not see her, and
soon turned into the main highway leading to Shopton.
It was dark when he reached the hill, where once he had been so near an
accident, and he slowed up as he coasted down it, using the brake at
intervals.
Tom got safely to the bottom of the declivity, and was about to turn on
the power of his machine, when, from the bushes that lined either side
of the roadway, several figures sprang suddenly. They ranged themselves
across the road, and one cried: "Halt!" in tones that were meant to be
stern, but which seemed to Tom, to tremble somewhat. The young inventor
was so surprised that he did not open the gasolene throttle, nor switch
on his spark. As a consequence his motor-cycle lost momentum, and he
had to take one foot from the pedal and touch the ground, to prevent
himself from toppling over.
"Hold on there!" cried another voice. "We've got you where we want you,
now! Hold on! Don't go!"
"I wasn't going to go," responded Tom calmly, trying to recognize the
voice, which seemed to be unnatural. "What do you want, and who are
you?"
"Never mind who we are. We want you and we've got you! Get off that
wheel!"
"I don't see why I should!" exclaimed Tom, and he suddenly shifted his
handle bars, so as to flash the bright headlight he carried, upon the
circle of dark figures that opposed his progress. As the light flashed
on them he was surprised to see that all the figures wore masks over
their faces.
Tom started. Was this the Happy Harry gang after him again? He hoped
not, yet the fact that the persons had on masks made the hold-up have
an ugly look. Once more Tom flashed the light on the throng. There were
exclamations of dismay.
"Douse that glim, somebody!" called a sharp voice, which Tom could not
recognize.
A stone came whizzing through the air, from some one in the crowd.
There was a smashing of glass as it hit the lantern, and the road was
plunged in darkness. Tom tried to throw one leg over the saddle, and
let down the supporting stand from the rear wheel, so the motor-cycle
would remain upright without him holding it. He determined to have
revenge for that act of vandalism in breaking his lamp.
But, just as he was free of the seat, he was surrounded by a dozen
persons, and several hands were laid on him.
"We've got you now!" some one fairly hissed in his ear. "Come along,
and get what's coming to you!"
Tom tried to fight, but he was overpowered by numbers and, a little
later, was dragged off into the woods in the darkness by the masked
figures. His arms were securely bound with ropes, and a handkerchief
was tied over his eyes. Tom Swift was a prisoner.