Produced by Anthony Matonac,
TOM SWIFT AND HIS WAR TANK
or
Doing His Bit For Uncle Sam
By
VICTOR APPLETON
CONTENTS
I Past Memories
II Tom's Indifference
III Ned is Worried
IV Queer Doings
V "Is He a Slacker?"
VI Seeing Things
VII Up a Tree
VIII Detective Rad
IX A Night Test
X A Runaway Giant
XI Tom's Tank
XII Bridging a Gap
XIII Into a Trench
XIV The Ruined Factory
XV Across Country
XVI The Old Barn
XVII Veiled Threats
XVIII Ready for France
XIX Tom Is Missing
XX The Search
XXI A Prisoner
XXII Rescued
XXIII Gone
XXIV Camouflaged
XXV Foiled
Chapter I
Past Memories
Ceasing his restless walk up and down the room, Tom Swift strode to the
window and gazed across the field toward the many buildings, where
machines were turning out the products evolved from the brains of his
father and himself. There was a worried look on the face of the young
inventor, and he seemed preoccupied, as though thinking of something
far removed from whatever it was his eyes gazed upon.
"Well, I'll do it!" suddenly exclaimed Tom. "I don't want to, but I
will. It's in the line of 'doing my bit,' I suppose; but I'd rather it
was something else. I wonder--"
"Ha! Up to your old tricks, I see, Tom!" exclaimed a voice, in which
energy and friendliness mingled pleasingly. "Up to your old tricks!"
"Oh, hello, Mr. Damon!" cried Tom, turning to shake hands with an
elderly gentleman--that is, elderly in appearance but not in action,
for he crossed the room with the springing step of a lad, and there was
the enthusiasm of youth on his face. "What do you mean--my old tricks?"
"Talking to yourself, Tom. And when you do that it means there is
something in the wind. I hope, as a sort of side remark, it isn't rain
that's in the wind, for the soldiers over at camp have had enough water
to set up a rival establishment with Mr. Noah. But there's something
going on, isn't there? Bless my memorandum book, but don't tell me
there isn't, or I shall begin to believe I have lost all my deductive
powers of reasoning! I come in here, after knocking two or three times,
to which you pay not the least attention, and find you mysteriously
murmuring to yourself.
"The last time that happened, Tom, was just before you started to dig
the big tunnel--No, I'm wrong. It was just before you started for the
Land of Wonders, as we decided it ought to be called. You were talking
to yourself then, when I walked in on you, and--Say, Tom!" suddenly
exclaimed Mr. Damon eagerly, "don't tell me you're going off on another
wild journey like that--don't!"
"Why?" asked Tom, smiling at the energy of his caller.
"Because if you are, I'll want to go with you, of course, and if I go
it means I'll have to start in as soon as I can to bring my wife around
to my way of thinking. The last time I went it took me two weeks to get
her to consent, and then she didn't like it. So if--"
"No, Mr. Damon," interrupted Tom, "I don't count on going on any sort
of a trip--that is, any long one. I was just getting ready to take a
little spin in the Hawk, and if you'd like to come along--"
"You mean that saucy little airship of yours, Tom, that's always trying
to sit down on her tail, or tickle herself with one wing?"
"That's the Hawk!" laughed Tom; "though that tickling business you
speak of is when I spiral. Don't you like it?"
"Can't say I do," observed Mr. Damon dryly.
"Well, I'll promise not to try any stunts if you come along," Tom went
on.
"Where are you going?" asked his friend.
"Oh, no place in particular. As you surmised, I've been doing a bit of
thinking, and--"
"Serious thinking, too, Tom!" interrupted Mr. Damon. "Excuse me, but I
couldn't help overhearing what you said. It was something about going
to do something though you didn't want to, and that it was part of your
'bit'. That sounds like soldier talk. Are you going to enlist, Tom?"
"No."
"Um! Well, then--"
"It's something I can't talk about, Mr. Damon, even to you, as yet,"
Tom said, and there was a new quality in his voice, at which his friend
looked up in some surprise.
"Oh, of course, Tom, if it's a secret--"
"Well, it hasn't even got that far, as yet. It's all up in the air, so
to speak. I'll tell you in due season. But, speaking of the air, let's
go for a spin. It may drive some of the cobwebs out of my brain. Did I
hear you say you thought it would rain?"
"No, it's as clear as a bell. I said I hoped it wouldn't rain for the
sake of the soldiers in camp. They've had their share of wet weather,
and, goodness knows, they'll get more when they get to Flanders. It
seems to do nothing but rain in France."
"It is damp," agreed Tom. "And, come to think of it, they are going to
have some airship contests over at camp to-day--for the men who are
being trained to be aviators, you know. It just occurred to me that we
might fly over there and watch them."
"Fine!" cried Mr. Damon. "That's the very thing I should like. I'll
take a chance in your Hawk, Tom, if you'll promise not to try any
spiral stunts."
"I promise, Mr. Damon. Come on! I'll have Koku run the machine out and
get her ready for a flight to Camp. It's a good day for a jaunt in the
air."
"Get out the Hawk, Koku," ordered the young inventor, as he motioned to
a big man--a veritable giant--who nodded to show he understood. Koku
was really a giant, one of a race of strange beings, and Tom Swift had
brought the big man with him when he escaped from captivity, as those
will remember who have read that book.
"Going far, Tom?" asked an aged man, coming to the door of one of the
many buildings of which the shed where the airship was kept formed one.
"Not very far, Father," answered the young inventor. "Mr. Damon and I
are going for a little spin over to Camp Grant, to see some aircraft
contests among the army birdmen."
"Oh, all right, Tom. I just wanted to tell you that I think I've gotten
over that difficulty you found with the big carburetor you were working
on. You didn't say what you wanted it for, except that it was for a
heavy duty gasolene engine, and you couldn't get the needle valve to
work as you'd like. I think I've found a way."
"Good, Dad! I'll look at it when I come back. That carburetor did
bother me, and if I can get that to work--well, maybe we'll have
something soon that will--"
But Tom did not finish his sentence, for Koku was getting the aircraft
in operation and Mr. Damon was already taking his place behind the
pilot's seat, which would be occupied by Tom.
"All ready, are you, Koku?" asked the young inventor.
"All ready, Master," answered the giant.
There was a roar like that of a machine gun as the Hawk's engine spun
the propeller, and then, after a little run across the sod, it mounted
into the air, carrying Tom and Mr. Damon with it.
"Mind you, Tom, no stunts!" called the visitor to the young inventor
through the speaking tube apparatus, which enabled a conversation to be
carried on, even above the roar of the powerful engine. "Bless my
overshoes! if you try, looping the loop with me--"
"I won't do anything like that!" promised Tom.
Away they soared, swift as a veritable hawk, and soon, after there had
unrolled below their eyes a succession of fields and forest, there came
into view rows and rows of small brown objects, among which beings,
like ants, seemed crawling about.
"There's the Camp!" exclaimed Tom.
"I see," and Mr. Damon nodded.
As they approached, they saw, starting up from a green space amid the
brown tents, what appeared to be big bugs of a dirty white color
splotched with green.
"The aircraft--and they have camouflage paint on," said Tom. "We can
watch 'em from up here!"
Mr. Damon nodded, though Tom could not see him, sitting in front of his
friend as he was.
Up and up circled the army aircraft, and they seemed to bow and nod a
greeting to the Hawk, which was soon in the midst of them. Tom and Mr.
Damon, flying high, though at no great speed, looked at the maneuvers
of the veterans and the learners--many of whom might soon be engaging
the Boches in far-off France.
"Some of 'em are pretty good!" called Tom, through the tube. "That one
fellow did the loop as prettily as I've ever seen it done," and Tom
Swift had a right to speak as one of authority.
Tom and his friend watched the aircraft for some time, and then started
off in a long flight, attaining a high speed, which, at first, made Mr.
Damon gasp, until he became used to it. He was no novice at flying, and
had even operated aeroplanes himself, though at no great height.
Suddenly the Hawk seemed to falter, almost as does a bird stricken by a
hunter's gun. The craft seemed to hang in the air, losing motion as
though about to plunge to earth unguided.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Damon.
"One of the control wires broken!" was Tom's laconic answer. "I'll have
to volplane down. Sit tight, there's no danger!"
Mr. Damon knew that with so competent a pilot as Tom Swift in the
forward seat this was true, but, nevertheless, he was a bit nervous
until he felt the smooth, gliding motion, with now and then an upward
tilt, which showed that Tom was coming down from the upper regions in a
series of long glides. The engine had stopped, and the cessation of the
thundering noise made it possible for Tom and his passenger to talk
without the use of the speaking tube.
"All right?" asked Mr. Damon.
"All right," Tom answered, and a little later the machine was rolling
gently over the turf of a large field, a mile or so from the camp.
Before Tom and Mr. Damon could get out of their seats, a man, seemingly
springing up from some hollow in the ground, walked toward them.
"Had an accident?" he asked, in what he evidently meant for a friendly
voice.
"A little one, easily mended," Tom answered.
He was about to take off his goggles, but at sight of the man's face a
change came over the countenance of Tom Swift, and he replaced the eye
protectors. Then Tom turned to Mr. Damon, as if to ask a question, but
the stranger came so close, evidently curious to see the aircraft at
close quarters, that the young inventor could not speak without being
overheard.
Tom got out his kit of tools to repair the broken control, and the man
watched him curiously. As he tinkered away, something was stirring
among the past memories of the inventor. A question he asked himself
over and over again was:
"Where have I seen this man before? His face is familiar, but I can't
place him. He is associated with something unpleasant. But where have I
seen this man before?"