idea of a rather large model, instead of a real craft, intended for
service. But a careful inspection showed the great strength it had, for
it was braced and guyed in a new way, and was as rigid as a
steel-trussed bridge.
"What are you going to call her?" asked Mr. Jackson, about two weeks
after they had started work on the craft, and when it had begun to
assume shape and form.
"I'm going to name her the Humming-Bird," replied Tom. "She's little,
but oh, my!"
"And I guess she'll bring home the prize," added the engineer.
And as the days went by, and Tom, his father and Mr. Jackson continued
to work on the speedy craft, this hope grew in the heart of the young
inventor. But he could not rid himself of worry as to the fate of the
plans that had disappeared. Who had them? Was some one making a machine
like his own from them? Tom wished he knew.
Chapter Six
Andy Foger Will Contest
One afternoon, as Tom was working away in the shop on his sky racer,
adjusting one of the rear rudders, and pausing now and then to admire
the trim little craft, he heard some one approaching. Looking out
through a small observation peephole made for this purpose, he saw Mrs.
Baggert hurrying toward the building.
"I wonder what's the matter?" he said aloud, for there was a look of
worriment on the lady's face. Tom threw open the door. "What is it,
Mrs. Baggert?" he called. "Some one up at the house who wants to see
me?"
"No, it's your father!" panted the housekeeper, for she was quite
stout. "He is very ill again, and I can't seem to get Dr. Gladby on
the telephone. Central says he doesn't answer."
"My father worse!" cried Tom in alarm, dropping his tools and hurrying
from the shop. "Where's Eradicate? Send him for the doctor. Perhaps the
wires are broken. If he can't locate Dr. Gladby, get Dr. Kurtz. We must
have some one. Here, Rad! Where are you?" he called, raising his voice.
"Heah I be!" answered the colored man, coming from the direction of the
garden, which he had been weeding.
"Get out your mule, and go for Dr. Gladby. If he isn't home, get Dr.
Kurtz. Hurry, Rad!"
"I's mighty sorry, Massa Tom," answered the colored man, "but I cain't
hurry, nohow."
"Why not?"
"Because Boomerang done gone lame, an' he won't run. I'll go mahse'f,
but I cain't take dat air mule."
"Never mind. I'll go in the Butterfly," decided Tom quickly. "I'll run
up to the house and see how dad is, and while I'm gone, Rad, you get
out the Butterfly. I can make the trip in that. If Dr. Kurtz had a
'phone I could get him, but he lives over on the back road, where there
isn't a line. Hurry, Rad!"
"Yes, sah, Massa Tom, I'll hurry!"
The colored man knew how to get the monoplane in shape for a flight, as
he had often done it.
Tom found his father in no immediate danger, but Mr. Swift had had a
slight recurrence of his heart trouble, and it was thought best to have
a doctor. So Tom started off in his air craft, rising swiftly above the
housetop, and sailed off toward the old-fashioned residence of Dr.
Kurtz, a sturdy, elderly German physician, who sometimes attended Mr.
Swift. Tom decided that as long as Dr. Gladby did not answer his
'phone, he could not be at home, and this, he learned later, was the
case, the physician being in a distant town on a consultation.
"My, this Butterfly seems big and clumsy beside my Humming-Bird," mused
Tom as he slid along through the air, now flying high and now low,
merely for practice. "This machine can go, but wait until I have my new
one in the air! Then I'll show 'em what speed is!"
He was soon at the physician's house, and found him in.
"Won't you ride back with me in the monoplane?" asked Tom. "I'm anxious
to have you see dad as soon as you can.
"Vot! Me drust mineself in one ob dem airships? I dinks not!" exclaimed
Dr. Kurtz ponderously. "Vy, I vould not efen ride in an outer-mobile,
yet, so vy should I go in von contrivance vot is efen more dangerous?
No, I gomes to your fader in der carriage, mit mine old Dobbin horse.
Dot vill not drop me to der ground, or run me up a tree, yet! Vot?"
"Very well," said Tom, "only hurry, please."
The young inventor, in his airship, reached home some time before the
slow-going doctor got there in his carriage. Mr. Swift was no worse,
Tom was glad to find, though he was evidently quite ill.
"So, ve must take goot care of him," said the doctor, when he had
examined the patient. "Dr. Gladby he has done much for him, und I can
do little more. You must dake care of yourself, Herr Swift, or you
vill--but den, vot is der use of being gloomy-minded? I am sure you
vill go more easy, und not vork so much."
"I haven't worked much," replied the aged inventor. "I have only been
helping my son on a new airship."
"Den dot must stop," insisted the doctor. "You must haf gomplete
rest--dot's it--gomplete rest."
"We'll do just as you say, doctor," said Tom. "We'll give up the
aeroplane matters, dad, and go away, you and I, where we can't see a
blueprint or a pattern, or hear the sound of machinery. We'll cut it
all out."
"Dot vould he goot," said Dr. Kurtz ponderously.
"No, I couldn't think of it," answered Mr. Swift. "I want you to go in
that race, Tom--and win!"
"But I'll not do it, dad, if you're going to be ill."
"He is ill now," interrupted the doctor. "Very ill, Dom Swift."
"That settles it. I don't go in the race. You and I'll go away, dad--to
California, or up in Canada. We'll travel for your health."
"No! no!" insisted the old inventor gently. "I will be all right. Most
of the work on the monoplane is done now, isn't it, Tom?"
"Yes, dad."
"Then you go on, and finish it. You and Mr. Jackson can do it without
me now. I'll take a rest, doctor, but I want my son to enter that race,
and, what's more, I want him to win!"
"Vell, if you don't vork, dot is all I ask. I must forbid you to do any
more. Mit Dom, dot is different. He is young und strong, und he can
vork. But you--not, Herr Swift, or I doctor you no more." And the
physician shook his big head.
"Very well. I'll agree to that if Tom will promise to enter the race,"
said the inventor.
"I will," said Tom.
The physician took his leave shortly after that, the medicine he gave
to Mr. Swift somewhat relieving him. Then the young inventor, who felt
in a little better spirits, went back to his workshop.
"Poor dad," he mused. "He thinks more of me and this aeroplane than he
does of himself. Well, I will go in the race, and I'll--yes, I'll win!"
And Tom looked very determined.
He was about to resume work on his craft when something about the way
one of the forward planes was tilted attracted his attention.
"I never left it that way," mused Tom. "Some one has been in here. I
wonder if it was Mr. Jackson?"
Tom stepped to the door and called for Eradicate. The colored man came
from the direction of the garden, which he was still weeding.
"Has Mr. Jackson been around, Rad?" asked the lad.
"No, sah. I ain't seed him."
"Have you been in here, looking at the Humming-Bird?"
"No, Massa Tom. I nebber goes in dere, lessen as how yo' is dere. Dem's
yo' orders."
"That's so, Rad. I might have known you wouldn't go in. But did you see
any one enter the shop?"
"Not a pusson, sab."
"Have you been here all the while?"
"All but jes' a few minutes, when I went to de barn to put some
liniment on Boomerang's so' foot."
"H'm! Some one might have slipped in here while I was away," mused Tom.
"I ought to have locked the doors, but I was in a hurry. This thing is
getting on my nerves. I wonder if it's Andy Foger, or some one else,
who is after my secret?"
He made a hasty examination of the shop, but could discover nothing
more wrong, except that one of the planes of the Humming-Bird had been
shifted.
"It looks as if they were trying to see how it was fastened on, and how
it worked," mused Tom. "But my plans haven't been touched, and no
damage has been done. Only I don't like to think that people have been
in here. They may have stolen some of my ideas. I must keep this place
locked night and day after this."
Tom spent a busy week in making improvements on his craft. Mr. Swift
was doing well, and after a consultation by Dr. Kurtz and Dr. Gladby it
was decided to adopt a new style of treatment. In the meanwhile, Mr.
Swift kept his promise, and did no work. He sat in his easy-chair, out
in the garden, and dozed away, while Tom visited him frequently to see
if he needed anything.
"Poor old dad!" mused the young inventor. "I hope he is well enough to
come and see me try for the ten-thousand-dollar prize--and win it! I
hope I do; but if some one builds, from my stolen plans, a machine on
this model, I'll have my work cut out for me." And he gazed with pride
on the Humming-Bird.
For the past two weeks Tom had seen nothing of Andy Foger. The
red-haired bully seemed to have dropped out of sight, and even his
cronies, Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey, did not know where he had gone.
"I hope he has gone for good," said Ned Newton, who lived near Andy.
"He's an infernal nuisance. I wish he'd never come back to Shopton."
But Andy was destined to come back.
One day, when Tom was busy installing a wireless apparatus on his new
aeroplane, he heard Eradicate hurrying up the path that led to the shop.
"I wonder if dad is worse?" thought Tom, that always being his first
idea when he knew a summons was coming for him. Quickly be opened the
door.
"Some one's comin' out to see you, Massa Tom," said the colored man.
"Who is it?" asked the lad, taking the precaution to put his precious
plans out of sight.
"I dunno, sah; but yo' father knows him, an' he said fo' me to come out
heah, ahead ob de gen'man, an' tell yo' he were comin'. He'll be right
heah."
"Oh, well, if dad knows him, it's all right. Let him come, Rad."
"Yes, sah. Heah he comes." And the colored man pointed to a figure
advancing down the gravel path. Tom watched the stranger curiously.
There was something familiar about him, and Tom was sure he had met him
before, yet he could not seem to place him.
"How are you, Tom Swift?" greeted the newcomer pleasantly. "I guess
you've forgotten me, haven't you?" He held out his hand, which Tom
took. "Don't know me, do you?" he went on.
"Well, I'm afraid I've forgotten your name," admitted the lad, just a
bit embarrassed. "But your face is familiar, somehow, and yet it isn't."
"I've shaved off my mustache," went on the other. "That makes a
difference. But you haven't forgotten John Sharp, the balloonist, whom
you rescued from Lake Carlopa, and who helped you build the Red Cloud?
You haven't forgotten John Sharp, have you, Tom?"
"Well, I should say not!" cried the lad heartily. "I'm real glad to see
you. What are you doing around here? Come in. I've got something to
show you," and he motioned to the shop where the Humming-Bird was
housed.
"Oh, I know what it is," said the veteran balloonist.
"You do?"
"Yes. It's your new aeroplane. In fact, I came to see you about it."
"To see me about it?"
"Yes. I'm one of the committee of arrangements for the meet to be held
at Eagle Park, where I understand you are going to contest. I came to
see how near you were ready, and to get you to make a formal entry of
your machine. Mr. Gunmore sent me."
"Oh, so you're in with them now, eh?" asked Tom. "Well, I'm glad to
know I've got a friend on the committee. Yes, my machine is getting
along very well. I'll soon be ready for a trial flight. Come in and
look at it. I think it's a bird--a regular Humming-Bird!" And Tom
laughed.
"It certainly is something new," admitted Mr. Sharp as his eyes took in
the details of the trim little craft. "By the way, Shopton is going to
be well represented at the meet."
"How is that? I thought I was the only one around here to enter an
aeroplane."
"No. We have just received an entry from Andy Foger."
"From Andy Foger!" gasped Tom. "Is he going to try to win some of the
prizes?"
"He's entered for the big one, the ten-thousand-dollar prize," replied
the balloonist. "He has made formal application to be allowed to
compete, and we have to accept any one who applies. Why, do you object
to him, Tom?"
"Object to him? Mr. Sharp, let me tell you something. Some time ago a
set of plans of my machine here were stolen from my house. I suspected
Andy Foger of taking them, but I could get no proof. Now you say he is
building a machine to compete for the big prize. Do you happen to know
what style it is?"
"It's a small monoplane, something like the Antoinette, his application
states, though he may change it later."
"Then he's stolen my ideas, and is making a craft like this!" exclaimed
Tom, as he sank upon a bench, and gazed from the balloonist to the
Humming-Bird, and back to Mr. Sharp again. "Andy Foger is trying to
beat me with my own machine!"
Chapter Seven
Seeking a Clue
John Sharp was more than surprised at the effect his piece of
information had on Tom Swift. Though the young inventor had all along
suspected Andy of having the missing plans, yet there had been no
positive evidence on this point. That, coupled with the fact that the
red-haired bully had not been seen in the vicinity of Shopton lately,
had, in a measure, lulled Tom's suspicions to rest, but now his hope
had been rudely shattered.
"Do you really think that's his game?" asked Mr. Sharp.
"I'm sure of it," replied the youth. "Though where he is building his
aeroplane I can't imagine, for I haven't seen him in town. He's away."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Well, not absolutely sure," replied Tom. "It's the general rumor that
he's out of town."
"Well, old General Rumor is sometimes a person not to be relied upon,"
remarked the balloonist grimly. "Now this is the way I size it up: Of
course, all I know officially is that Andy Foger has sent in an entry
for the big race for the ten-thousand-dollar prize which is offered by
the Eagle Park Aviation Association. I'm a member of the arrangements
committee, and so I know. I also know that you and several others are
going to try for the prize. That's all I am absolutely sure of.
"Now, when you tell me about the missing plans, and you conclude that
Andy is doing some underhanded work, I agree with you. But I go a step
farther. I don't believe he's out of town at all."
"Why not?" exclaimed Tom.
"Because when he has an airship shed right in his own backyard, where,
you tell me, he once made a craft in which he tried to beat you out in
the trip to Alaska, when you think of that, doesn't it seem reasonable
that he'd use that same building in which to make his new craft?"
"Yes, it does," admitted Tom slowly, "but then everybody says he's out
of town."
"Well, what everybody says is generally not so. I think you'll find
that Andy is keeping himself in seclusion, and that he's working
secretly in his shop, building a machine with which to beat you."
"Do you, really?"
"I certainly do. Have you been around his place lately?"
"No. I've been too busy; and then I never have much to do with him."
"Then take my advice, and see if you can't get a look inside that shop.
You may see something that will surprise you. If you find that Andy is
infringing on your patented ideas, you can stop him by an injunction.
You've got this model patented, I take it?"
"Oh, yes. I didn't have at the time the plans were stolen, but I've
patented it since. I could get at him that way."
"Then take my advice, and do it. Get a look inside that shed, and
you'll find Andy working secretly there, no matter if his cronies do
think he's out of town."
"I believe I will," agreed Tom, and somehow he felt better now that he
had decided on a plan of action. He and the balloonist talked over at
some length just the best way to go about it, for the young inventor
recalled the time when he and Ned Newton had endeavored to look into
Andy's shed, with somewhat disastrous results to themselves; but Tom
knew that the matter at stake justified a risk, and he was willing to
take it.
"Well, now that's settled," said Mr. Sharp, "tell me more about
yourself and your aeroplane. My! To think that the Red Cloud was
destroyed! That was a fine craft."
"Indeed she was," agreed Tom. "I'm going to make another on similar
lines, some day, but now all my time is occupied with the Humming-Bird."
"She is a hummer, too," complimented Mr. Sharp. "But I almost forgot
the real object of my trip here. There is no doubt about you going in
the race, is there?"
"I fully expect to," replied Tom. "The only thing that will prevent me
will be--"
"Don't say you're worried on account of what Andy Foger may do,"
interrupted Mr. Sharp.
"I'm not. I'll attend to Andy, all right. I was going to say that my
father's illness might interfere. He's not well at all. I'm quite
worried about him."
"Oh, I sincerely hope he'll be all right," remarked the balloonist. "We
want you in this race. In fact, we're going to feature you, as they say
about the actors and story-writers. The committee is planning to do
considerable advertising on the strength of Tom Swift, the well-known
young inventor, being a contestant for the ten-thousand-dollar prize."
"That's very nice, I'm sure," replied Tom, "and I'm going to do my
best. Perhaps dad will take a turn for the better. He wants me to win
as much as I want to myself. Well, we'll not worry about it, anyhow,
until the time comes. I want to show you some new features of my latest
aeroplane."
"And I want to see them, Tom. Don't you think you're making a mistake,
though, in equipping it with a wireless outfit?"
"Why so?"
"Well, because it will add to the weight, and you want such a small
machine to be as light as possible."
"Yes, but you see I have a very light engine. That part my father
helped me with. In fact, it is the lightest air-cooled motor made, for
the amount of horsepower it develops, so I can afford to put on the
extra weight of the wireless outfit. I may need to signal when I am
flying along at a hundred miles an hour."
"That's so. Well, show me some of the other good points. You've
certainly got a wonderful craft here."
Tom and Mr. Sharp spent some time going over the Humming-Bird and in
talking over old times. The balloonist paid another visit to Mr. Swift,
who was feeling pretty good, and who expressed his pleasure in seeing
his old friend again.
"Can't you stay for a few days?" asked Tom, when Mr. Sharp was about to
leave. "If you wait long enough you may be able to help me work up the
clues against Andy Foger, and also witness a trial flight of the
Humming-Bird."
"I'd like to stay, but I can't," was the answer. "The committee will be
anxious for me to get back with my report. Good luck to you. I'll see
you at the time of the race, if not before."
Tom resolved to get right to work seeking clues against his old enemy,
Andy, but the next day Mr. Swift was not so well, and Tom had to remain
in the house. Then followed several days, during which time it was
necessary to do some important work on his craft, and so a week passed
without any information having been obtained.
In the meanwhile Tom had made some cautious inquiries, but had learned
nothing about Andy. He had no chance to interview Pete or Sam, the two
cronies, and he did not think it wise to make a bald request for
information at the Foger home.
Ned Newton could not be of any aid to his friend, as he was kept busy
in the bank night and day, working over a new set of books.
"I wonder how I can find out what I want to know?" mused Tom one
afternoon, when he had done considerable work on the Humming-Bird. "I
certainly ought to do it soon, so as to be able to stop Andy if he's
infringing on my patents. Yet, I don't see how--"
His thoughts were interrupted by hearing a voice outside the shop,
exclaiming:
"Bless my toothpick! I know the way, Eradicate, my good fellow. It
isn't necessary for you to come. As long as Tom Swift is out there,
I'll find him. Bless my horizontal rudder! I'm anxious to see what
progress he's made. I'll find him, if he's about!"
"Yes, sah, he's right in dere," spoke the colored man. "He's workin' on
dat Dragon Fly of his." Eradicate did not always get his names right.
"Mr. Damon!" exclaimed Tom in delight, at the sound of his friend's
voice. "I believe he can help me get evidence against Andy Foger. I
wonder I didn't think of it before! The very thing! I'll do it!"
Chapter Eight
The Empty Shed
"Bless my dark-lantern! Where are you, Tom?" called Mr. Damon as he
entered the dim shed where the somewhat frail-appearing aeroplane
loomed up in the semi-darkness, for it was afternoon, and rather
cloudy. "Where are you?"
"Here!" called the young inventor. "I'm glad to see you! Come in!"
"Ah! there it is, eh?" exclaimed the odd man, as he looked at the
aeroplane, for there had been much work done on it since he had last
seen it. "Bless my parachute, Tom! But it looks as though you could
blow it over."
"It's stronger than it seems," replied the lad. "But, Mr. Damon, I've
got something very important to talk to you about."
Thereupon Tom told all about Mr. Sharp's visit, of Andy's entry in the
big race, and of the suspicions of himself and the balloonist.
"And what is it you wish me to do?" asked Mr. Damon.
"Work up some clues against Andy Foger."
"Good! I'll do it! I'd like to get ahead of that bully and his father,
who once tried to wreck the bank I'm interested in. I'll help you, Tom!
I'll play detective! Let me see--what disguise shall I assume? I think
I'll take the part of a tramp. Bless my ham sandwich! That will be the
very thing. I'll get some ragged clothes, let my beard grow again--you
see I shaved it off since my last visit--and I'll go around to the
Foger place and ask for work. Then I can get inside the shed and look
around. How's that for a plan?"
"It might be all right," agreed Tom, "only I don't believe you're cut
out for the part of a tramp, Mr. Damon."
"Bless my fingernails! Why not?"
"Oh, well, it isn't very pleasant to go around in ragged clothes."
"Don't mind about me. I'll do it." And the odd gentleman seemed quite
delighted at the idea. He and Tom talked it over at some length, and
then adjourned to the house, where Mr. Swift, who had seemed to improve
in the last few days, was told of the plan.
"Couldn't you go around after evidence just as you are?" asked the aged
inventor. "I don't much care for this disguising business."
"Oh, it's very necessary," insisted Mr. Damon earnestly. "Bless my
gizzard! but it's very necessary. Why, if I went around the Foger place
as I am now, they'd know me in a minute, and I couldn't find out what I
want to know."
"Well, if you keep on blessing yourself," said Tom, with a laugh,
"they'll know you, no matter what disguise you put on, Mr. Damon."
"That's so," admitted the eccentric gentleman. "I must break myself of
that habit. I will. Bless my topknot! I'll never do it any more. Bless
my trousers buttons!"
"I'm afraid you'll never do it!" exclaimed Tom.
"It is rather hard," said Mr. Damon ruefully, as he realized what he
had said. "But I'll do it. Bless--"
He paused a moment, looked at Tom and his father, and then burst into a
laugh. The habit was more firmly fastened on him than he was aware.
For several hours Tom, his father and Mr. Damon discussed various
methods of proceeding, and it was finally agreed that Mr. Damon should
first try to learn what Andy was doing, if anything, without resorting
to a disguise.
"Then, if that doesn't work, I'll become a tramp," was the decision of
the odd character. "I'll wear the raggedest clothes I can find Bless--"
But he stopped in time.
Mr. Damon took up his residence in the Swift household, as he had often
done before, and for the next week he went and came as he pleased,
sometimes being away all night.
"It's no use, though," declared Mr. Damon at the end of the week. "I
can't get anywhere near that shed, nor even get a glimpse inside of it.
I haven't been able to learn anything, either. There are two gardeners
on guard all the while, and several times when I've tried to go in the
side gate, they've stopped me."
"Isn't there any news of Andy about town?" asked Tom. "I should think
Sam or Pete would know where he is."
"Well, I didn't ask them, for they'd know right away why I was
inquiring," said Mr. Damon, "but it seems to me as if there was
something queer going on. If Andy Foger is working in that shed of his,
he's keeping mighty quiet about it. Bless my--"
And once more he stopped in time. He was conquering the habit in a
measure.
"Well, what do you propose to do next?" asked Tom.
"Disguise myself like a tramp, and go there looking for work," was the
firm answer. "There are plenty of odd jobs on a big place such as the
Foger family have. I'll find out what I want to know, you see."