KICKED OUT
“WHAT’S the matter?” asked Ned Newton, who was very much interested in
Tom’s new machine. Ned had gone on air trips with his chum before and,
having heard of the wager and now seeing the _Air Monarch_, it is not at
all unlikely that Ned had visions of another strange journey. “Anything
wrong?” went on Ned, as Tom did not answer, but continued to stare at
the door.
“There may be—I’m not sure,” was the answer in a low voice. “Wait a
minute.”
Tom tiptoed softly to the door, opened it suddenly, and then uttered an
exclamation of disappointment.
“What’s the matter?” asked Ned again.
“He skipped,” answered Tom.
“Who?”
“The fellow who was outside that door trying to overhear some of my
secrets and find out about the _Air Monarch_,” was Tom’s answer.
“Spies?” exclaimed Ned.
“That’s about it. Ever since I first started on this new idea and began
work on the model and the craft itself, I’ve had a sneaking idea that
I’m being spied upon. I am sure of it now. Somebody was listening at the
keyhole, but they heard me coming and skipped.”
“Who is it?” asked Ned.
“That’s what I’ve got to find out. Keep quiet about this, and I’ll set a
trap.” Then the two friends went to a far corner of the room, out of all
possible range of the door, and talked for a long time.
The next few days were busy ones in the shop of Tom Swift. Now that his
father, by his rashness, had committed his son to the attempt to circle
the earth in twenty days, the older inventor was as enthusiastic over
the matter as was Tom himself.
“I’ll help you get the _Air Monarch_ finished, Tom,” said the old man,
“and then you can start. I’m not going to have Burch and Trace crowing
over me!”
“They won’t crow, Dad,” said Tom, with a smile. “I’ll win that money for
you!”
In order to hasten the completion of the _Air Monarch_, men who were in
other shops controlled by Tom and his father were taken off their work
and put to finishing the triple traveler. All who were admitted into the
shop where the big new machine was housed were sworn to secrecy.
The new machine was like a large aeroplane, but with an enclosed cabin
something like the European air line _de luxe_ expresses. Built like a
Pullman car, only lighter, the cabin of the _Air Monarch_ afforded
sleeping berths for five. When not in use the bunks folded up against
the wall, thus making an observation room. There was a combined dining
room and kitchen where meals could be served.
The motor of the craft was abaft the living quarters, thus keeping the
sleeping compartment free of gasoline fumes. The _Air Monarch_ was of
the pusher and not the tractor type of plane. Extending over the cabin,
and out on either side was the big top plane. There was another plane
below this, and from the lower one extended the long tail which carried
the rudders, one for directing the craft up or down and the other to
impart a lateral motion.
The body of the craft was something like a seaplane, staunchly built to
enable it to travel the surface of the ocean if need be. And, as already
explained, there were four sturdy wheels on which the _Air Monarch_
could roll along the ground. These wheels could be geared directly to
the motor, as are the wheels of an automobile, or by using the air
propeller the craft could be sent along as an aeroplane taxies across
its starting field. The housed propeller for use in water has already
been mentioned.
To such good advantage did Tom Swift set his men to work that four weeks
after the laying of the wager the _Air Monarch_ was completed except for
the fitting up of her cabin and the taking aboard of supplies.
“The motor’s the main thing, and that’s completed and installed,” said
Tom to Ned one evening.
“Does it work?” asked the financial representative of the firm.
“It sure does!” was the enthusiastic answer. “Tried it on a brake test
this afternoon and she did a little better than two thousand seven
hundred R.P.M.”
“Hope that doesn’t mean ‘Rest In Peace',” chuckled Ned, who was not
versed in mechanics.
“R.P.M. stands for revolutions per minute,” Tom explained. “And when I
tell you my new motor did more than twenty-seven hundred it’s going
some. That motor will rate better than six hundred and ninety horse
power.”
“Yes?” asked Ned, politely enough.
“Yes, you big boob!” cried Tom with good-natured raillery. “Why, don’t
you understand that the best performance a naval seaplane ever did was
only twenty-seven hundred R.P.M., and they couldn’t get more than six
hundred and eighty-five rated horse power out of their V-type motor? But
at that they made two hundred and fifty-six miles an hour,” said Tom
with respect.
“Who did?” asked Ned.
“The United States naval flyers,” Tom replied. “I’m ashamed of your
ignorance,” he chuckled. “Think of it—two hundred and fifty-six miles
an hour! If I can equal that record, and I think I can, I’ll win the
twenty thousand dollars for dad with my hands down.”
“Let’s see,” said Ned musingly, and he began doing some mental
arithmetic. He was good at this. “The distance around the earth, say at
the fortieth parallel of latitude, is, roughly, twenty-five thousand
miles. At the rate of two hundred and fifty-six miles an hour, or say
two hundred and fifty to make it round numbers, it would take about a
hundred hours, Tom. A hundred hours is, roughly, four days, and you’ve
got twenty! Why, say——”
“Look here, you enthusiastic Indian!” yelled Tom, playfully mauling his
chum’s hair. “You can’t fly one of these high-powered machines for a
hundred hours straight! They’d burn up. You have to stop now and then to
cool off, take on gas and oil, make adjustments, and so on.”
“I thought you were going to do continuous flying,” objected Ned.
“I’m going to do it as continuously as possible,” was Tom’s reply. “But
I’ll need all of twenty days to circle the globe. There will be
accidents. Storms may force us down, and you may want to stop and
inquire into the financial system of the Malays.”
“Me?” queried Ned. “Am I going?”
“You sure are!” was the answer. “You’re going to be official score
keeper. Dad needs that twenty thousand dollars. Yes, sir, you’re going
and it’s about time we began to make serious preparations to start. You
won’t back out, will you?”
“No, I guess not,” Ned said. “Who else is going? Mr. Damon?”
“Well, he wants to go,” said Tom; “but he’s afraid his wife won’t let
him. Dad is too old, of course. But I’ll need three good mechanics,
besides myself. With you that will make five—just enough to fill the
cabin nicely. Come on out and take a look at the boat.”
“Going to take along plenty to eat?” asked Ned, as he and his chum went
across the now dark shop yard toward the brick building that housed the
newest creation of the young inventor.
“Oh, sure!” was the response. “But we won’t have to stock up very
heavily. You see we’ll make several stops on the way.”
“Just what are your plans?” Ned wanted to know.
“Well, I thought of starting from around here, or, possibly, from the
vicinity of New York,” Tom answered. “You see, there’s a possibility of
a race.”
“A race to circle the earth?”
“Yes. The papers have got hold of this wager of dad’s—I think Mr.
Damon, in his enthusiasm, spilled the beans—and there is some talk of a
national aero club taking the matter up. A paper or two has mentioned
that such a trip will greatly advance the science of flying, and there
may be a big prize offered for the winner of the race—the one who makes
the best actual time around the world.”
“Then you’re likely to win considerable money,” suggested Ned.
“If the plans are carried out, yes. But I’ll be satisfied to win that
twenty thousand dollars for dad. It will just about make me come out
with an even break.”
“An even break?”
“Yes. This machine will cost me around twenty thousand,” said Tom. “Of
course, I’ll be out my expenses, but then dad got me into this thing
unthinkingly and I’m going to see it through. But if some one offers a
prize and I can win it, I’ll have that much velvet.”
“It’s a bigger thing than I thought,” Ned stated. “I hope you won’t be
disappointed in your craft, Tom. I mean I hope it will work.”
“It will work—I’m sure of that,” said the young inventor. “Of course
whether I can eat up the miles and actually get around the world in
twenty days remains to be seen. But I’m going to try!”
The two were at the workshop now. It was shrouded in darkness, for the
day’s labor was over.
“Stand still a minute until I turn on the lights,” Tom said, as he
opened a little side door and stepped in, leaving Ned to follow. “It’s
as dark as a pocket in here.”
Ned could hear Tom fumbling for the electric switch. Then, just as the
light was turned on, there came, from the other side of the big shop and
back of the _Air Monarch_, a clicking sound followed by a scream of
pain.
“What’s that?” cried Ned.
“I think it’s my sneak trap!” answered Tom. “I hope I’ve caught him!”
In an instant the shop was flooded with light, and Ned followed Tom on
the run around the big _Air Monarch_, which occupied most of the space.
A moment later Ned saw Tom spring upon a man who was caught by one leg
in a curious wooden trap, the smooth jaws of which had clamped around
the intruder’s ankle.
“Help! Help!” screamed the man, for such he was—a burly, ugly, lowering
chap dressed in the greasy clothes of a mechanic.
“You aren’t hurt!” said Tom, pausing in front of the captive and eyeing
him. “I set that trap there to catch any one who came in here
unauthorized. It isn’t meant to hurt—just to hold you fast. And I’ve
got you, Cal Hussy! Got you good!”
“Let me out of here!” snarled the man, trying, without success, to free
his foot.
“I will in a minute. But first I’ll find out if you have taken
anything,” Tom said coolly. “Here, Ned, search him!” he called to his
chum.
Then, while Tom deftly caught Hussy’s hands in a loop of rope drawn
tight, Ned went through the intruder’s pockets. Aside from some personal
effects, the search revealed nothing.
“You let me go!” snarled the man, with an evil scowl.
“I will if I make sure you haven’t damaged my machine,” went on Tom.
A quick inspection showed nothing wrong. The motor compartment of the
_Air Monarch_ was locked, and Tom knew the fellow had not been in it.
“Now I’ll let you go,” said the inventor to the fellow. “But I warn you
the next time you step into my trap it will have teeth!”
Pulling on a lever, Tom opened the jaws of the trap and the man was free
to step out. He limped slightly as he walked toward the window by which
he had entered, for the spring of the trap was strong.
“Who is he?” asked Ned as the man started to crawl out. He had cut a
pane of glass out of the window, sawed some of the iron protective bars,
and gotten in that way. But in walking across the floor in the dark he
had stepped into one of several traps Tom had set recently.
“That is Cal Hussy,” explained Tom, watching every movement of the man.
“He works for the Red Arrow Aeroplane Company, one of my rivals.
Evidently they have heard something of my new invention and are trying
to find out its secret. But I’ve fooled them. I caught Hussy the first
crack out of the box.”
“Yes, you caught me all right, Tom Swift!” snarled the man, turning when
he was half way through the window. He scowled and shook his fist at the
young inventor. “You caught me, but I’ll catch you next time!”
This threat seemed to enrage Tom. He rushed at the fellow just as Hussy
cried again:
“It will be my turn next time!”
Tom raised his foot and planted a well directed and richly deserved kick
on Hussy where it would do the most good. Like a football dropping over
the crossbar, the intruder went tumbling over the window sill, to fall
heavily to the ground below.
He grunted, uttered some strong language, and then, as he ran off down
the road in the darkness, he called back:
“You’ll be sorry, some day, you did that, Tom Swift! You’ll be sorry!”
“I’m sorry now that I didn’t kick you twice!” cried the angry inventor.