Whitewashed
"Let's tell your father, Tom," suggested Ned, after a pause. "He'll
know what to do."
"No, I'd rather not," answered the young inventor quickly. "Dad has had
trouble enough with these fellows, and I don't want him to worry any
more. Besides, he is working on a new invention, and if I tell him
about the Happy Harry gang it will take his attention from it."
"What invention is he planning now?"
"I don't know, but it's something important by the way he keeps at it.
He hardly spares time to help Mr. Sharp and me on the airship. No,
we'll keep this news from dad."
"Then I'll inform the bank officials, as you suggest. If the place was
robbed they might blame me; if they found out I had seen the men and
failed to tell them."
"Well, that gang would only be too glad to have the blame fall on some
one else."
Tom little knew how near the truth he had come in his chance
expression, or how soon he himself was to fall under suspicion in
connection with this same band of bad men.
"I'll telephone to the president on my way home," decided Ned, "and he
can notify the watchman at the bank. But do you really expect to have
your airship in shape to fly soon?"
"Oh, yes. Now that we have found out our mistake about the gas, the
rest will be easy."
"I think I'd like to take a trip in one myself, if it didn't go too
high," ventured Ned.
"I'll remember that, when we have ours completed," promised his chum,
"and I'll take you for a spin."
The boys talked for perhaps an hour longer, mostly about the airship,
for it was the latest mechanical affair in which Tom was interested,
and, naturally, foremost in his thoughts. Then Ned went home first,
however, telephoning from Tom's house to the bank president about
having seen the suspicious men. That official thanked his young
employee, and said he would take all necessary precautions. The
telephone message was not sent until Mr. Swift was out of hearing, as
Tom was determined that his father should have no unnecessary worry
about the unscrupulous men. As it was, the news that the gang was out
of jail had caused the aged inventor some alarm.
It was not without some anxiety that Tom arose the next morning,
fearing he would hear news that the bank had been broken into, but no
such alarming report circulated in Shopton. In fact having made some
inquiries that day of Ned, he learned that no trace had been seen of
the mysterious men. The police had been on the lookout, but they had
seen nothing of them.
"Maybe, after all, they weren't the same ones," suggested Ned, when he
paid Tom another visit the next night.
"Well, of course it's possible that they weren't," admitted the young
inventor. "I'd be very glad to think so. Even if they were, your
encounter with them may have scared them off; and that would be a good
thing."
The next two weeks were busy ones for Tom and Mr. Sharp. Aided
occasionally by Mr. Swift, and with Garret Jackson, the engineer, to
lend a hand whenever needed, the aeronaut and the owner of the speedy
Arrow made considerable progress on their airship.
"What is your father so busy over?" asked Mr. Sharp one day, when the
new aluminum gas holder was about completed.
"I don't know," answered Tom, with a somewhat puzzled air. "He doesn't
seem to want to talk about it, even to me. He says it will
revolutionize travel along a certain line, but whether he is working on
an airship that will rival ours, or a new automobile, I can't make out.
He'll tell us in good time. But when do you think we will finish
the--well, I don't know what to call it--I mean our aeroplane?"
"Oh, in about a month now. That's so, though, we haven't a name for it.
But we'll christen it after it's completed. Now if you'll tighten up
some of those bolts I'll get the gas generating apparatus in readiness
for another test."
A short description of the new airship may not be out of place now. It
was built after plans Mr. Sharp had shown to Tom and his father soon
after the thrilling rescue of the aeronaut from the blazing balloon
over Lake Carlopa. The general idea of the airship was that of the
familiar aeroplane, but in addition to the sustaining surfaces of the
planes, there was an aluminum, cigar-shaped tank, holding a new and
very powerful gas, which would serve to keep the ship afloat even when
not in motion.
Two sets of planes, one above the other, were used, bringing the
airship into the biplane class. There were also two large propellers,
one in front and the other at the rear. These were carefully made, of
different layers of wood "built up" as they are called, to make them
stronger. They were eight feet in diameter, and driven by a
twenty-cylinder, air-cooled, motor, whirled around at the rate of
fifteen hundred revolutions a minute. When operated at full speed the
airship was capable of making eighty miles an hour, against a moderate
wind.
But if the use of the peculiarly-shaped planes and the gas container,
with the secret but powerful vapor in it were something new in airship
construction, so was the car in which the operator and travelers were
to live during a voyage. It was a complete living room, with the engine
and other apparatus, including that for generating the gas, in a
separate compartment, and the whole was the combined work of Tom and
Mr. Sharp. There were accommodations for five persons, with sleeping
berths, a small galley or kitchen, where food could be prepared, and
several easy chairs where the travelers could rest in comfort while
skimming along high in the air, as fast as the fastest railroad train.
There was room enough to carry stores for a voyage of a week or more,
and enough gas could be manufactured aboard the ship, in addition to
that taken in the aluminum case before starting, to sustain the ship
for two weeks. The engine, steering apparatus, and the gas machine were
within easy reach and control of the pilot, who was to be stationed in
a small room in the "bow" of the ship. An electric stove served to warm
the interior of the car, and also provided means for cooking the food.
The airship could be launched either by starting it along the ground,
on rubber-tired wheels, as is done in the case of the ordinary
aeroplane, or it could be lifted by the gas, just as is done with a
balloon. In short there were many novel features about the ship.
The gas test, which took place a few days later, showed that the young
inventor and Mr. Sharp had made no mistake this time. No explosion
followed, the needle valve controlling the powerful vapor perfectly.
"Well," remarked Mr. Sharp, one afternoon, "I think we shall put the
ship together next week, Tom, and have a trial flight. We shall need a
few more aluminum bolts, though, and if you don't mind you might jump
on your motor-cycle and run to Mansburg for them. Merton's machine shop
ought to have some."
Mansburg was the nearest large city to Shopton, and Merton was a
machinist who frequently did work for Mr. Swift.
"All right," agreed Tom. "I'll start now. How many will you need?"
"Oh, a couple of dozen."
Tom started off, wheeling his cycle from the shed where it was kept.
As he passed the building where the big frame of the airship, with the
planes and aluminum bag had been assembled, he looked in.
"We'll soon be flying through the clouds on your back," he remarked,
speaking to the apparatus as if it could understand. "I guess we'll
smash some records, too, if that engine works as well when it's
installed as it does now."
Tom had purchased the bolts, and was on his way back with them, when,
as he passed through one of the outlying streets of Mansburg, something
went wrong with his motor-cycle. He got off to adjust it, finding that
it was only a trifling matter, which he soon put right, when he was
aware of a man standing, observing him. Without looking up at the man's
face, the young inventor was unpleasantly aware of a sharp scrutiny. He
could hardly explain it, but it seemed as if the man had evil
intentions toward him, and it was not altogether unexpected on Tom's
part, when, looking up, he saw staring at him, Anson Morse, the leader
of the gang of men who had caused such trouble for him.
"Oh, it's you; is it?" asked Morse, an ugly scowl on his face. "I
thought I recognized you." He moved nearer to Tom, who straightened up,
and stood leaning on his wheel.
"Yes; it's me," admitted the lad.
"I've been looking for you," went on Morse. "I'm not done with you yet,
nor your father, either."
"Aren't you?" asked Tom, trying to speak coolly, though his heart was
beating rather faster than usual. Morse had spoken in a threatening
manner, and, as the youth looked up and down the street he saw that it
was deserted; nor were there any houses near.
"No, I'm not," snapped the man. "You got me and my friends in a lot of
trouble, and--"
"You didn't get half what you deserved!" burst out Tom, indignant at
the thought of what he and his father had suffered at the hands of the
gang. "You ought to be in jail now, instead of out; and if I could see
a policeman, I'd have you arrested for threatening me! That's against
the law!"
"Huh! I s'pose you think you know lots about the law," sneered Morse.
"Well, I tell you one thing, if you make any further trouble for me,
I'll--"
"I'll make all the trouble I can!" cried Tom, and he boldly faced the
angry man. "I'm not afraid of you!"
"You'd better be!" and Morse spoke in a vindictive manner. "We'll get
even with you yet, Tom Swift. In fact I've a good notion now to give
you a good thrashing for what you've done."
Before Tom was aware of the man's intention, Morse had stepped quickly
into the street, where the lad stood beside his wheel, and grasped him
by the shoulder. He gave Tom a vicious shake.
"Take your hand off me!" cried Tom, who was hampered by having to hold
up his heavy machine.
"I will when I've given you what I owe you!" retorted the scoundrel.
"I'm going to have satisfaction now if I never--"
At that instant there came from down the street the sound of a rattling
and bumping. Tom looked up quickly, and saw approaching a rattletrap of
a wagon, drawn by a big, loose-jointed mule, the large ears of which
were flapping to and fro. The animal was advancing rapidly, in response
to blows and words from the colored driver, and, before the uplifted
fist of Morse could fall on Tom's head, the outfit was opposite them.
"Hold on dar, mistah! Hold on!" cried the colored man in the wagon.
"What are yo' doin' to mah friend, Mistah Swift?"
"None of your business!" snapped Morse. "You drive on and let me manage
this affair if you don't want trouble! Who are you anyhow?"
"Why doan't yo' know me?" asked the colored man, at whom Tom looked
gratefully. "I's Eradicate Sampson, an' dish yeah am mah mule,
Boomerang. Whoa, Boomerang! I reckon yo' an' I better take a hand in
dish yeah argument."
"Not unless you want trouble!" cried Morse.
"I doan't mind trouble, not in de leastest," answered Eradicate
cheerfully. "Me an' Boomerang has had lots of trouble. We's used to it.
No, Mistah Man, you'd better let go ob mah friend, Mistah Swift, if yo'
doan't want trouble yo' ownse'f."
"Drive on, and mind your business!" cried Morse, now unreasoningly
angry. "This is my affair," and he gave Tom a shake.
Our hero was not going to submit tamely, however. He had one hand free,
and raised to strike Morse, but the latter, letting go his hold on the
lad's shoulder, grasped with that hand, the fist which the young
inventor had raised. Then, with his other hand, the scoundrel was about
to hit Tom.
"Break away four him, Mistah Swift!" directed the colored man. "Yo' can
fight him, den!"
"I guess he'll have his own troubles doing that," sneered Morse.
"Not ef I help him," answered Eradicate promptly, as he climbed back
off the seat, into the body of his ramshackle vehicle.
"Don't you interfere with me!" stormed the man.
An instant later Tom broke away from his tormentor, and laid his
motor-cycle on the ground, in order to have both hands free for the
attack he felt would follow.
"Ha! You think you're going to escape, do you?" cried Morse, as he
started toward Tom, his eyes blazing. "I'll show you who you're dealing
with!"
"Yes, an' I reckon I'll show yo' suffin yo' ain't lookin' fer!"
suddenly cried Eradicate.
With a quick motion he picked up a pail of white-wash from his wagon,
and, with sure aim, emptied the contents of the bucket over Morse, who
was rushing at Tom. The white fluid spread over the man from head to
foot, enveloping him as in a white shroud, and his advance was
instantly checked.
"Dar! I reckon dat's de quickest white-washin' job I done in some
time!" chuckled Eradicate, as he grasped his long handled brush, and
clambered down from the wagon, ready for a renewal of the hostilities
on the part of Morse. "De bestest white-washin' job I done in some
time; yais, sah!"