THE STRANGE DWARF
WITH a suddenness that showed how completely he had been taken by
surprise, the figure that had been burrowing under the fence slipped
from the hole partly dug beneath the barrier and stood upright at the
side of the road.
“Why, Tom, he’s only a boy!” exclaimed Mary. “Look!” and she gazed a
little reproachfully at her husband because of the rather harsh words he
had used toward the intruder.
“A boy!” exclaimed the young inventor.
“Yes,” answered Mary. “He probably lost a ball over your big fence and
he wanted to crawl under to get it.”
“If he’s a boy, I’m an infant in arms,” chuckled Tom. “His ball days
were over long ago. There’s something queer going on here,” he said in a
lower voice. “That’s a dwarf, Mary. A man dwarf!”
Then Mary saw that, indeed, this was so. The fellow was a dwarf, and not
a pleasant one, either.
“What’s the game?” asked Tom, as the short, squatty fellow, powerful in
build, but only a boy in height, waddled, rather than walked, toward the
House on Wheels.
“Game?” questioned the dwarf in surly tones. “I wasn’t playing any
game.”
“It looked so,” went on Tom. “Why were you trying to crawl under the
fence? There’s no game inside there, and if you lost your golf ball
you’ll have to let it go. What’s the idea?”
“Do I have to tell you?” The dwarf’s voice was surly.
“Well, seeing that this is my place and my fence, I don’t think it’s out
of order to ask why you’re burrowing under it,” and Tom let a note of
sarcasm inject itself.
“Oh, you’re Mr. Swift, are you?” and the manner of the dwarf changed as
if by magic. “Well, I beg your pardon. I have a message for you.”
“A message for me?” exclaimed Tom, in surprise.
“Yes, a letter.”
“Well, the least I can say is that this is a queer way to deliver it.
Why didn’t you go around to the entrance and see the watchman? Where is
this letter?”
Tom’s voice showed his disbelief. The stopping of the House on Wheels
and the talk had brought Mr. Swift and the Nestors from where they were
conversing on the rear observation platform to the little vestibule
behind the front seat where Tom and Mary rode.
“What is it, Tom?” asked his father.
“I found this—this man trying to get under our fence,” the young
inventor answered. “He says he was coming in to hand me a letter.
But——”
“And here’s the letter, Mr. Swift,” the dwarf broke in, waddling closer
to the auto and reaching up with an envelope in his hand. He was not
tall enough, and Tom could not stoop low enough to get the missive, so
the young inventor descended from his seat, first making sure that there
was no chance for an ambush.
For Tom Swift had a distinctly unpleasant feeling, one not unmixed with
apprehension, at the sight of the dwarf, a feeling which was increased
by what the fellow was doing and his surly manner. This, coupled with
Ned Newton’s suspicion of Martin Jardine, made Tom careful.
More than once in the past some clever tricks had been worked against
Tom Swift and his father, and he was well aware that all their enemies
were not disposed of. This dwarf, however, was a new one.
To Tom’s surprise, the letter was not only addressed to him, but was in
an envelope bearing the imprint of the Jardine company which had its
headquarters in a large city not far off.
“Read it,” urged the dwarf, with what passed for a smile on his queer
face, a man’s face on a boy’s body.
“All right,” Tom assented, after turning the missive over. The envelope
contained but a single sheet of paper and a hasty look at the bottom
showed that it was signed by Martin Jardine. The letter said:
“Dear Mr. Swift: This will introduce to you a very clever little
man—a dwarf as you will see—by name James Chock. I have known
him for some time. I think you will find him very useful when
you get to flying the _Silver Cloud_. Jim, as I call him, is
very powerful, but small. He can get into the tight corners of
the dirigible and be of service in that way in case we have to
make repairs when sailing. I am sending him to you with the
suggestion that you hire him and keep him until we are ready to
get in the air. Then make him a member of the crew. You will
find him rather eccentric but reliable. He is a great contrast
to your giant Koku, isn’t he?”
Tom read the letter twice, and then said:
“Humph!”
“Is it all right, dear?” asked Mary anxiously.
“Seems to be,” Tom answered, as he passed the letter to his father. Then
addressing the dwarf he said:
“I certainly didn’t intend to speak harshly to you, Mr. Chock——”
“Call me Jim. Everybody does,” interrupted the dwarf, with one of his
grotesque smiles. “You won’t hurt my feelings. But you did give me a
start.”
“And you greatly surprised me by burrowing under my fence,” Tom said
more genially. “What’s the idea? Why didn’t you go around to the gate
and hand in this letter for me?”
“Too far,” said the dwarf, with an uncanny chuckle. “My legs are short
and it takes me twice as long to walk a mile as it would you. I didn’t
want to go all the way around to the gate, so I started to crawl under
your fence. I didn’t think there was any harm.”
“There might have been some harm to you,” Tom stated rather grimly.
“Usually both the upper and lower edges of my fence are guarded by a
wire carrying a heavy charge of electricity. It just happens the juice
is off now, or you might have been tied in a double bowknot as you dug
under.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t!” chuckled the dwarf. “I can’t stand being shrunk any
more. But I didn’t mean any harm. I was taking the shortest way on
account of my legs. I couldn’t climb over your fence, Mr. Swift, so I
had to go under. Excuse me!”
“All right,” Tom said. “You seem to have the proper credentials. What
about it, Dad?” he asked his father, who had read the note.
“Well,” said Mr. Swift, “this is up to Jardine. If he wants this little
man aboard the craft he is paying for, I don’t see that we can object.
As he says in the letter, this Mr. Chock may be useful getting into
corners. Send him on to the works, Tom. But,” he added in a low voice,
“send word to have him watched. Don’t take any chances.”
“I won’t,” said Tom, in a voice equally low. Then to the dwarf he said:
“All right, Jim. Take this letter to Mr. Jackson. He’s my foreman. Tell
him I’ve seen it.”
“You’d better make an endorsement on the note to that effect, Mr.
Swift,” said the dwarf, thus showing he had some business sense. “Mr.
Jackson might not take my word that you had seen me and had read Mr.
Jardine’s note. Especially if any of your men see me crawling in under
the fence.”
“I wouldn’t go in that way if I were you,” and Tom spoke gravely. “Go
around by the main gate. I’ll write a line on this note. By the way,
where is Mr. Jardine? I haven’t seen him these last two days.”
“He’s very busy,” the dwarf said. “That’s why he sent me with this note
instead of bringing me around personally. I have worked in his oralum
factory,” he said. “I’m a good machinist and I can get in places other
men can’t.”
“That’s so,” admitted Tom, writing a brief note to his foreman on the
back of Jardine’s letter. “Well, you may be of use to us. But next time
please don’t come in like a boy under a fence at a ball game. It’s
rather unusual and may be dangerous.”
“I like to do unusual things,” chuckled the dwarf in a rather strange
voice—a man’s tones coming from a child’s body. “But it’s a long way
around to your front gate,” he said, rather wistfully.
“Oh, Tom, don’t make him walk all the way back,” urged Mary, in a low
voice. “It’s such a hot day and so far. We aren’t in any hurry. Turn the
House back!”
“Well,” Tom began, “I suppose——” Just then he saw a flivver containing
one of his workmen who had been to the neighboring city of Mansburg for
some supplies coming down the road. The workman was on his way back to
the factory.
“Here, Kelly, take Mr. Chock to the works with you,” Tom requested,
halting his man. “He has a letter for Mr. Jackson.”
“All right, Mr. Swift,” Kelly answered. “Hop in, son,” he went on,
evidently thinking the dwarf was a boy. “Oh!” he exclaimed, when he saw
his mistake.
“All right, Kelly, step on it!” chuckled the uncanny little fellow, as
he scrambled nimbly up to a seat beside the workman. With a farewell
wave of his hand containing the endorsed letter of introduction he was
off down the road, calling back:
“See you later, Mr. Swift!”
“That’s rather a queer proceeding,” remarked Mr. Nestor.
“A little too queer,” commented Tom. “But maybe it’s all right.”
“Poor fellow!” murmured Mary. “It must be hard to go through life as he
is.”
“He seemed jolly enough,” Mrs. Nestor said. “I think he could make money
in a circus.”
“Do you think that letter was genuine, Tom?” asked his father.
“Oh, yes. It was Jardine’s signature, and we can easily check up on it.
I’ll get word to Jackson before that dwarf arrives.”
“Are you going back, Tom?” Mary asked.
“No,” the young inventor answered. “I can telephone to him from here.”
He went to a place in the high fence where there was a telephone outlet.
This was one of several in the barrier about the Swift plant. Tom
carried a portable telephone in his House on Wheels and he was soon in
communication with Mr. Jackson, telling him of the occurrence.
“Put the dwarf to work, but watch him,” was Tom’s final instruction.
“I’ll be back in a few days.”
“All right, Mr. Swift,” the foreman said. “Kelly hasn’t come in yet with
this bird you speak of, but I’ll be on the watch. Don’t worry.”
Nevertheless, Tom Swift did worry a bit. It seemed very strange that
Martin Jardine would send such a dwarf to be taken up in _Silver Cloud_
when that great dirigible should be ready to sail. Yet there was reason
in the request.
“Only I didn’t like his crawling under the fence,” Tom said, as he
talked his doubts over with Mary and the others while they journeyed
along in the House on Wheels.
“Oh, I think he showed good sense,” Mary said. “He knew he had a proper
letter of introduction and that everything was in order.”
“If the current had been on the lower wire,” remarked Tom grimly,
“everything would have been in disorder for a while. Well, maybe it’s
all right. I’ll see Jardine when I get back and make sure.”
“Aren’t you going to stay with us at Mt. Camon, Tom?” asked Mrs. Nestor.
“Only a few days this time,” was the answer. “I must get back and rush
work on the dirigible. After that is finished I’ll spend the rest of the
summer up there resting.”
“It will be lovely,” Mary said, leaning against him as he drove the big
car rapidly over the road.
They stopped for lunch at a pretty little tea room, for, though they
could well have cooked in the House on Wheels, for they had supplies
with them, it was decided not to take the time to do their own cooking
just now. After a rest, they went on again, planning to stop at a hotel
if night found them near one, or if not, to camp out in the House on
Wheels, which was equipped with comfortable beds.
The afternoon was drawing to a close, and they were some miles from a
city where they might stop if they wished when, as they went around a
turn in the road, they saw just ahead of them a small auto van which had
come to grief.
The van, built on the chassis of a flivver, was turned on its side.
Standing looking at it were a man and a woman, both young and evidently
Italians. The man, with a gesture of despair as Tom and his friends
approached, said pathetically:
“Well, Maria, this is the end!”
“So it seems, Pietro,” said the woman, or rather, girl, for she was no
older than Tom’s wife. “Oh, what are we to do?” There were tears in her
voice and tears in her eyes as Tom Swift and his friends plainly saw
when the House on Wheels was stopped opposite the overturned van.
“What’s the matter?” Tom asked. “You’ve had an accident—I can see
that,” he went on. “Is anybody hurt?”
“I am much afraid so,” answered the man. “All my poor children are in
there, and I much fear that some have been crushed!”
“Oh, how terrible!” cried Mary.
“Come on, Dad! Mr. Nestor! We’ve got to help those children!” cried Tom,
springing from his seat, followed by the two men.