A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
Tom Swift hardly knew what to think. He had scarcely believed, in
spite of the fact that he was sure Andy had a copy of the map, that
the bully would actually make an effort to go to the valley of gold.
"And in that airship of his, too," mused Tom. "Well, there's one
consolation, I don't believe he'll go far in that, though it does
sail better than when he made his first attempt. Well, if he's going
to try to beat us, it's a good thing I know it. We can be prepared
for him, now."
Tom, after watching the big vans for a few minutes, turned and kept
on toward his home.
There was more than surprise on the part of Mr. Damon and the others
when Tom told his news. There was alarm, for there was a feeling
that Mr. Foger and his son might adopt unscrupulous tricks.
"But what can we do?" asked Mr. Swift.
"Whitewash him!" exclaimed Eradicate Sampson, who had overheard part
of the conversation. "Dat's what I'd do t' him an' his father, too!
Dat's what I would! Fust I'd let mah mule Boomerang kick him a bit,
an' den, when he was all mussed up, I'd whitewash him!" That was the
colored man's favorite method of dealing with enemies, but, of
course, he could not always carry it out.
However, after considering the matter from all sides, it was decided
that nothing could be done for the present.
"Let them go," said Tom, "I don't believe they'll ever find the
valley of gold. I fancy I threw a scare into Andy, talking as I did
about the map."
"Well, even if the Fogers do get the gold," said Mr. Parker calmly,
"they cannot take away the caves of ice, and it is in them that I am
most interested. I want to prove some of my new theories."
"And we need the gold," said Tom, in a low voice; "don't we, Abe?"
"That's what we do, Tom," answered the old miner.
Preparations were now practically completed for their trip to
Seattle by rail. Tom made some inquiries in the next few days
regarding the Fogers, but only learned that the father and son had
left town, after superintending the shipment of their airship.
"Well, we start to-day," remarked Tom, as he arose one morning. "In
two weeks, at most, we ought to be hovering over the valley, Abe."
"I hope so, Tom. You've got the map put away safely, have you?"
"Sure thing. Are you all ready?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll start for the depot right after breakfast." The
adventurers had arranged to take a local train from Shopton, and get
on a fast express at one of the more important stations.
Good-byes were said, Mr. Swift, Mr. Jackson, Mrs. Baggert and
Eradicate waving their adieus from the porch as Tom and the others
started for the depot. Miss Mary Nestor had bidden our hero farewell
the previous night--it being a sort of second good-bye, for Tom was
a frequent caller at her house, and, if the truth must be told he
rather disliked to leave the young lady.
Tom found a few of his friends at the station, who had gathered
there to give him and Ned BON-VOYAGE.
"Bring us back some nuggets, Tom," pleaded Arthur Norton.
"Bring me a musk-ox if you can shoot one," suggested one.
"A live bear or a trained Eskimo for mine," exclaimed another.
Tom laughingly promised to do the best he could.
"I'll send you some gold nuggets by wireless," said Ned Newton.
It was almost time for the train to arrive. In the crowd on the
platform Tom noticed Pete Bailey.
"He must feel lost without Andy," observed the young inventor to
Ned.
"Yes, I wonder what he's hanging around here for?"
They learned a moment later, for they saw Pete going into the
telegraph office.
"Must be something important for him to wire about," observed Ned.
Tom did not answer. The window of the office was slightly open,
though the day was cool, and he was listening to the clicks of the
telegraph instrument, as the operator sent Pete's message. Tom was
familiar with the Morse code. What was his surprise to hear the
message being sent to Andy Foger at a certain hotel in Chicago. And
the message read:
"Tom Swift's party leaving to-day."
"What in the world does that mean?" thought Tom, but he did not tell
Ned what he had picked up as it went over the wire. "Why should Andy
want to be informed when we leave? That's why Pete was hanging
around here! He had been instructed to let Andy know when we left
for Seattle. There's something queer back of all this."
Tom was still puzzling over the matter when their train roiled in
and he and the others got aboard.
"Well, we're off!" cried Ned.
"Yes; we're off," admitted Tom, and, to himself he added: "No
telling what will happen before we get there, though."
The trip to Chicago was without incident, and, on arrival in the
Windy City, Tom was on the lookout for Andy or his father, but he
did not see them. He made private inquiries at the hotel mentioned
in Pete's telegram, but learned that the Fogers had gone on.
"Perhaps I'm worrying too much," thought Tom. But an event that
occurred a few nights later, when they were speeding across the
continent showed him that there was need of great precaution.
On leaving Chicago, Tom had noticed, among the other passengers
traveling in the same coach as themselves, a man who seemed to be
closely observing each member of the party of gold-hunters. He was a
man with a black mustache, a mustache so black, in fact, that Tom at
once concluded that it had been dyed. This, in itself, was not much,
but there was a certain air about the man--a "sporty" air--which
made Tom suspicious.
"I wouldn't be surprised if that man was a gambler, Ned," he said to
his chum, one afternoon, as they were speeding along. The man in
question was several seats away from Tom.
"He does look like one," agreed Ned.
"I needn't advise you not to fall in with any of his invitations to
play cards, I suppose," went on Tom, after a pause.
"No, indeed, it's something I don't do," answered Ned, with a laugh.
"But it might be a good thing to speak to Abe Abercrombie about him.
If that man's a sharper perhaps Abe knows him, or has seen him, for
Abe has traveled around in the West considerable."
"We'll ask him," agreed Tom, but the miner, when his attention was
called to the man, said he had never seen him before.
"He does look like a confidence man," agreed Abe, "but as long as he
doesn't approach us we can't do anything, and don't need to worry."
There was little need to call the attention of either Mr. Damon or
Mr. Parker to the man, for Mr. Damon was busy watching the scenery,
as this trip was a new one to him, and he was continually blessing
something he saw or thought of. As for Mr. Parker, he was puzzling
over some new theories he had in mind, and he said little to the
others.
On the night of the same day on which Tom had called special
attention to the man with the black mustache, our hero went to his
berth rather late. He had sent some telegrams to his father and one
to Miss Nestor, and, when he turned in he saw the "gambler," as he
had come to call him, going into the smoking compartment of the
coach. Though Tom thought of the man as a gambler, there was no
evidence, as yet, that he was one, and he had made no effort to
approach any of our friends, though he had observed them closely.
How long Tom had been asleep he did not know, but he was suddenly
awakened by feeling his pillow move. At first he thought it was
caused by the swaying of the train, and he was about to go to sleep
again, when there came a movement that he knew could not have been
caused by any unevenness of the roadbed.
Then, like a flash there came to Tom's mind the thought that under
his pillow, in a little leather case he had made for it, was the
map, showing the location of the valley of gold.
He sat up suddenly, and made a lunge for the pillow. He felt a hand
being hurriedly withdrawn. Tom made a grab for it, but the fingers
slipped from his grasp.
"Here! Who are you!" cried Tom, endeavoring to peer through the
darkness.
"It's all right--mistake," murmured a voice.
Tom leaned suddenly forward and parted the curtains of his berth.
There was a dim light burning in the aisle of the car. By the gleam
of it the young inventor caught sight of a man hurrying away, and he
felt sure the fellow who had put his hand under his pillow was the
man with the black mustache. He confirmed this suspicion a moment
later, for the man half turned, as if to look back, and the youth
saw the mustache.
"He--he was after my map!" thought Tom, with a gasp.
He sat bolt upright. What should he do? To raise an alarm now, he
felt, would only bring a denial from the man if he accused him.
There might also be a scene, and the man might get very indignant.
Then, too, Tom and his friends did not want their object made known,
as it would be in the event of Tom raising an outcry and stating
what was under his pillow.
He felt for the map case, opened it and saw, in the gleam of the
light, that it was safe.
"He didn't get it anyhow," murmured our hero. "I guess I won't say
anything until morning, though he did come like a thief in the night
to see if he could steal it."
Tom glanced to where his coat and other clothing hung in the little
berth-hammock, and a hasty search showed that his money and ticket
were safe.
"It was the map he was after all right," mused Tom. "I'll have a
talk with Mr. Damon in the morning about what's best to do. That's
why the fellow has been keeping such a close watch on us. He wanted
to see who had the map."
Then another thought came to Tom.
"If it was the map he was after," he whispered to himself, "he must
know what it's about. Therefore the Fogers must have told him. I'll
wager Andy or his father put this man up to steal the map. Andy's
afraid he hasn't got a copy of the right one. This is getting more
and more mysterious! We must be on our guard all the while. Well,
I'll see what I'll do in the morning."
But in the morning the man with the black mustache was not aboard
the train, and on inquiring of the conductor, Tom learned that the
mysterious stranger had gotten off at a way station shortly after
midnight.