ALARMING NEWS
"Hand me that hammer, Ned."
"There it is, right behind you, on the bench."
"Oh, so it is. Here are those nails you were asking for."
"Good. Now we'll make things hum," and Ned Newton's voice was
drowned in the rapid driving of nails into boards.
"Bless my screw driver!" suddenly exclaimed Mr. Damon, who was
sawing planks to make covers for boxes.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom, looking up from a bundle he was
tying up. It contained the magneto of his aeroplane and he was
putting waterproof paper about it. "Did you cut your finger?"
"No, but I just happened to think that I nailed my watch up in that
last box."
"Nailed up your watch!" cried Mr. Preston, who, after a trip to New
York to make arrangements for passages on a steamer, had come back
to help Tom pack up.
"Yes, I took it out to see how long it took me to make a box cover,
and then Tom asked me to nail up that box containing the motor
parts, and I laid my watch right down on top, and put the boards
over it."
"Well, the only thing to do is to take off the cover," remarked Tom
grimly.
"Bless my chronometer! That will delay things," said the odd man
with a sigh. "But I suppose there is no hope for it," and he
proceeded to open the box, while Tom, Ned, the circus man and
Eradicate busied themselves over the hundred and one things to be
done before they would be ready for the trip to the interior of
South America.
"Look out, Ned!" called Tom. "You're making those top boards too
long. They'll stick out over the edge, and be ripped off if the box
catches on anything."
"Yes, you can't be too careful," cautioned Mr. Preston. "Each box or
package must be the right weight, or the porters and mule drivers
won't carry them into the interior. You may have to cross rough
trails, and even ford rivers. And as for bridges! well, the less
said about them the better. You aren't going to have any picnic, and
if you want to back out, Tom Swift, now is the time to say so."
"What! Back out?" cried our hero. "Never! I said I'd go and I'm
going. Ned, pass that brace and bit over, will you. I've got to bore
a hole for these screws."
And so the work went on in the big aeroplane shed, which they had
made their packing headquarters.
The Lark, that small, but strong and speedy aeroplane, had been
safely packed, and most of it had been sent on ahead to New York,
where the travellers were to take the steamer. There remained to be
transported their clothing, weapons and ammunition, and several
bundles and cases of trinkets which would be of more value in
bartering with the natives than money. Tom and Mr. Preston had
selected the things with great care, and at the last moment the
young inventor had packed a box of his own, and said nothing about
it. Included in it were some of his own and his father's inventions,
and had one been given a glance into that same box he would have
wondered at the queer things.
"What in the world are you taking with you, anyhow?" asked Ned, of
his chum, noticing the mysterious box.
"'You'll see, if we ever get to giant land," replied Tom with a
smile.
"How long before we can start?" asked Mr. Damon, late that day, when
most of the hard work had been finished. He was as anxious and as
eager as either of the youths to make a start.
"We ought to be ready at least a week from to-day," replied Tom,
"and perhaps sooner."
"Sooner, if you can make it," suggested Mr. Preston. "The steamer
sails a week from to-day, and if you miss that one you'll have to
wait two weeks more."
"Then a week from to-day we'll sail," decided Tom, with emphasis.
"We'll work nights getting things in shape."
Really, though, not much more remained to be done, and the next day
Mr. Preston again went to New York, accompanying a shipment of boxes
and cases that Tom sent on ahead.
The two chums were busy in the aeroplane hangar a few days after
this, nailing up the last of some light cases containing medicines,
personal effects and comforts that would accompany them on their
trip.
"Well, I'm glad of one thing," remarked Tom thoughtfully, as he
drove home the last nail in a box, "and that is that we won't be
bothered with that Andy Foger on this trip. I haven't seen hide nor
hair of him in some time. I guess he and his father are down and
out."
"I guess so. I haven't seen him either."
"Massa Andy were in town a few days ago," ventured Eradicate.
"He was?" cried Tom. "Did you see him? What was he doing, Rad?"
"Nuffin, same as usual. He done say I were too old to go on any more
hexpiditions wif yo' an' I proved dat I wasn't."
"Proved that you weren't, Rad? How?" And Tom looked anxiously at his
colored helper.
"Why, I done say t' him dat I was gwine wif yo'-all dis time, t' dat
Comeaway country after a big orchard plant. Dat's how I done prove
it to dat Andy Foger."
"Rad, you didn't tell him we were going to South America?" asked Tom
reproachfully.
"Suah I done so, Massa Tom. Dat were de only way t' prove t' him dat
I wa'an't gittin' too old."
"Oh, Rad! I'm afraid--" and Tom hesitated.
"Oh, I don't believe it amounted to anything," interposed Ned. "Andy
didn't have any one with him, did he, Rad?"
"No, Massa Ned. He were all alone by hisse'f."
"Then I guess it's all right, Tom. Andy was only rigging Eradicate,
and he didn't pay any attention to what he said."
"Well, I hope so," and the young inventor wore a thoughtful air as
he resumed the finish of the packing.
The colored man, blissfully unconscious that he had been the
innocent cause of a grave danger that overhung Tom and his friends,
whistled gaily as he gathered the boxes, bales and packages into a
pile, ready for the expressman, who was to call in the morning.
Tom, together with Ned, Mr. Damon and Eradicate, were to leave the
following afternoon, and stay in New York until the sailing of the
steamer. They preferred to be a day or so ahead of time than half an
hour late, and were taking no chances.
"Bless my timetable!" exclaimed Mr. Damon that night, as they sat in
the library of the Swift home, checking over the lists to make sure
that nothing had been forgotten, "bless my timetable, but it doesn't
seem possible that we are going to start at last."
"Yes, we'll soon be on the way to giant land," spoke Tom in a low
voice. Somehow the young inventor did not seem to be in his usually
bright spirits.
"You don't seem very enthusiastic," remarked Ned. "What's the
matter, Tom?"
"Oh, nothing much. Though I would feel better if I knew that Andy
Foger didn't have any inkling of what our plans were," he added, for
Eradicate was not present.
"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed his chum. "Mr. Preston will be here in the
morning, and he'll know whether his rival has any idea of camping on
our trail. Cheer up!"
"Yes, I suppose I am foolish to worry," admitted Tom, "but, somehow
I can't help it. I wish Mr. Preston was here now to tell us that
Wayland Waydell had gone off to the centre of Africa for a dwarf.
Then I'd know we had nothing to fear. But I guess--"
Tom did not finish his sentence for, at that moment, there came a
peal at the door bell. Instinctively every one started, and Mr.
Damon exclaimed:
"Bless my burglar alarm! What's that?"
"Someone at the door, Tom," replied Mr. Swift calmly. "That's
nothing unusual. It's early yet."
But, in spite of his reassuring words, there was a feeling of vague
alarm.
"I'll see who it is," volunteered Ned. "If it's Andy Foger--"
Mrs. Baggert entered the room at that moment. She had hurried to the
door, and, as she entered she announced:
"Mr. Preston!"
"Yes, it is I!" added the circus man following her quickly into the
room. "I came on to-night instead of waiting for the morning, Tom. I
have bad news for you!"
"Bad news!" gasped the young inventor. "Has Waydell got hold of your
plans."
"I'll wager it has something to do with Andy Foger!" exclaimed Ned.
"Neither one," spoke the circus man. "But I have just had a cable
dispatch from one of my animal agents in Brazil, saying that war has
broken out among the tribes in the central part of South America. A
big native war is being waged all around giant land, as near as we
can figure it out."
"War among the native tribes!" exclaimed Mr. Swift.
"Yes, and one of the worst in years. Of course, Tom, after such
alarming news as this I won't hold you to your promise to go. It's
all off. I'm sorry, but you'd better wait. It won't be safe to go
there now. Better unpack, Tom."
For a moment there was a silence in the room. Then the young
inventor leaped to his feet and faced the circus man.
"Unpack?" cried Tom in ringing tones. "Never! I'm going to giant
land, fight or no fight! Ned, come with me and we'll put in some of
my electric rifles. I wasn't going to take them along, but I will
now. Unpack? I guess not! I'm going to get a giant for you, Mr.
Preston, and save Jake Poddington if he's alive. Come on, Ned."