THE TRYOUT
Tom Swift took his place in the driver's seat of the House on Wheels.
This compartment was not unlike the front seat in any large, van-like
truck, except that it was more comfortable and was equipped with a
number of dials, indicators and controls.
"Well, Ned, coming?" asked the young inventor, looking down at his chum
and smiling.
"I guess so, if you're quite sure she won't blow up."
"If she does, we'll go together!" joked Tom.
It was the day of the tryout, and while some work yet remained to
be done on the new machine, it was in shape for a road test. It had
been run around the big yard of the Swift plant and had acted in a
satisfactory manner. What it would actually do under road conditions
and off the level, was something yet to be demonstrated.
The big twelve-cylinder motor had met the block test and had been
able to propel the heavy car around the shops. Tom felt sure there was
plenty of reserve power, or would be when it had been tuned up.
Ned now climbed to the seat beside his chum. There was room for three
in this compartment, but though Mr. Damon had been invited to come over
for the initial run, the eccentric man had not appeared.
With Ned on the seat beside him, Tom touched his foot to the button of
the self-starter and with a roar the powerful motor sprang into life.
Though it was big and had the strength of many horses, so well was it
balanced that there was hardly any vibration, which spells the death
knell of many machines otherwise perfect.
Letting the motor warm up a bit, Tom carefully tested the various gear
and control levers. Then, gently letting in the clutch, the House on
Wheels rolled slowly out of the shed where it had been constructed.
"There she goes!" cried Mr. Swift, who was almost as eager as his son
over the success of the venture.
"Rolling like an egg!" exclaimed Mr. Jackson, who had had no small
share in building the machine after Tom had planned it.
"By golly! She suah am a reg'lar ark!" was Eradicate's comment.
"Mistah Noah he'd suah be livin' pretty if he'd had one ark like dat
when de flood come! Ha! Ha!"
There was a subdued cheer from the assembled workmen as Tom Swift
proved that at least his machine would run smoothly, and with Koku
loudly warning idlers away from the gate, the House on Wheels
approached the open highway for the first time.
As might have been expected, any activity at the Swift plant was sure
to attract attention from the residents of Shopton. Though they were
accustomed to seeing many strange machines issue from the big gates, or
perhaps fly over the high fence, the matter never lost its interest.
So, on this morning, there was a crowd of sightseers.
Nor were they disappointed with the first view of Tom's new wonder.
Bright in its gay colors and varnish, the House on Wheels was a sight
for those who appreciate fine cars and machinery. Majestically it
rolled out on the big rubber-tired wheels and, driving slowly until
he was sure of the feel of the control wheel, Tom eased his machine
through the gates and straightened it out on the broad road.
"Hurray!" yelled a boy in the crowd. "It's a regular circus wagon!"
"I wish I had one like it!" echoed a companion.
For a little way, so slowly did Tom nurse the motor along, the
crowd could keep pace with the machine. Then, when he had the feel
that everything was going smoothly, the young inventor pressed the
accelerator down a little.
The result was at once apparent. As smoothly as a big locomotive, and
with the same hint of power in reserve, the big House on Wheels went
ahead so rapidly that the running crowd of boys and girls and men was
soon left behind and Tom and Ned had the road to themselves save for
an occasional motorist. But as this section was not ordinarily much
traveled, they were not bothered by many other machines.
Drivers of cars who passed or approached the House on Wheels stared
curiously at it, and more than one was heard to remark to a companion:
"Some advertising stunt, I guess."
"That might not be bad," commented Ned, after one or two repetitions of
this.
"What?" asked Tom, who was intent on listening to the hum of the motor
to detect a false note or failure of the oiling system.
"Using this for advertising," said Ned. "Many a firm would pay
big money to have a sign painted on the sides of this car, calling
attention to the merits of Blank's chewing gum or Hank's breakfast
food."
"There are no advertisements going on this!" decided Tom. "I'll make my
money some other way."
"Even if you have to take on Cunningham's proposition?" teased Ned.
"I'll never have anything to do with that crook!" said the young man as
he slowed down to turn a corner which would take them out on the big
state highway. "I'll close down the plant before I'll help him infringe
on other inventors. I've had that done to me too many times not to know
what it means. No Cunningham in mine!"
They were now in comparatively open country, and though there was more
traffic on the state road than on the thoroughfare they had left in
coming from the Swift plant, there was not enough to worry a driver of
Tom's experience.
"You need a hill for a real stiff test," remarked Ned.
"That's the idea, and we'll come to one soon if we keep on going."
"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything to stop you," was his chum's
opinion. "Hop right to it!"
They were bowling along at an increased speed when Tom suddenly leaned
over and bent forward as if listening, which is exactly what he was
doing.
"What's the matter?" asked his companion.
"Sounds like a knock."
They both listened intently, for though Ned did not have Tom's skill in
inventiveness he was a good driver.
"There's something wrong," decided Tom, pulling over to the side of the
road to be out of the way of passing traffic. "I'm thinking one of the
oil feeds is clogged. Yes, she's heating up," he added, as he pointed
to the motor temperature indicator which was one of many dials and
gages on the instrument board.
The House on Wheels was brought to a halt and then Ned and Tom raised
the hood for a look at the motor. There was an unusual wave of heat as
soon as the sides were raised, and Tom's quick eye at once found the
seat of trouble. A small valve that supplied oil to one of the many
working parts was partly closed so that not enough of the lubricating
fluid reached the shaft.
They resumed the journey, and Tom ventured to open the throttle a
little, though he had no intention of getting up to maximum speed,
which should not be done with any new motor until after it has been
limbered up for at least five hundred miles.
The House on Wheels responded well and stepped along rather fast.
"This is the life!" cried Ned gaily. "When do we eat, Tom?"
"Not on this trip. I didn't pack in any grub. And you can't turn in and
go to bed, either. This is just a preliminary run so I can decide what
changes are needed."
"It seems to me that everything is fine," said Ned. "She's running now
like a sewing machine."
"Got to try her on a hill yet," was Tom's answer.
"I suppose so. If you go honeymooning in this you'll have hills to
climb," observed Ned, and he noticed that Tom did not now resent a
reference to a possible approaching marriage.
"We'll soon know what she can do on the up grade," said the young
inventor, with a look ahead. "We're coming to a hill now and it grows
stiffer the higher you climb. Yes, this will be a good test."
The first part of the hill was taken in fine fashion, somewhat to
Tom's delighted surprise. He had imagined the machine might labor,
especially while new and stiff. But up went the House, never faltering.
Then, after a little comparatively level stretch, the hill took a
sudden upward climb. For the first part of this the machine did well,
there being no undue strain. But suddenly, when about half way up,
there was a little jar, a sort of nervous shiver, and the motor stopped
dead.
So quickly did it happen that Tom had no time to apply the brakes and
Ned cried:
"Were backing downhill, Tom!"
"I know it!" responded the young inventor, a grim look on his tense
face.