TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT
or
Uncle Sam's Mastery of the Sky
by
Victor Appleton
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I A SKY RIDE
II A NEW IDEA
III THE BIG OFFER
IV MR. DAMON'S WHIZZER
V TOM'S PROJECT
VI MAKING PLANS
VII A PROBLEM IN SOUND
VIII THROUGH THE ROOF
IX AFTER A SPY
X A BIG SPLASH
XI A NIGHT TRIP
XII THE CRY FOR HELP
XIII SOMETHING QUEER
XIV THE TELEPHONE CALL
XV A VAIN SEARCH
XVI THE LONG NIGHT
XVII SILENT SAM
XVIII SUSPICIONS
XIX ANOTHER FLIGHT
XX QUEER MARKS
XXI THE DESERTED CABIN
XXII CLEWS AT LAST
XXIII THE GOVERNMENT TEST
XXIV IN THE MOONLIGHT
XXV THE GOLD TOOTH
TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT
CHAPTER I
A SKY RIDE
"Oh Tom, is it really safe?"
A young lady--an exceedingly pretty young lady, she could be
called--stood with one small, gloved hand on the outstretched wing of
an aeroplane, and looked up at a young man, attired in a leather,
fur-lined suit, who sat in the cockpit of the machine just above her.
"Safe, Mary?" repeated the pilot, as he reached in under the hood of
the craft to make sure about one of the controls. "Why, you ought to
know by this time that I wouldn't go up if it wasn't safe!"
"Oh, yes, I know, Tom. It may be all right for you, but I've never been
up in this kind of airship before, and I want to know if it's safe for
me."
The young man leaned over the edge of the padded cockpit, and clasped
in his rather grimy hand the neatly gloved one of the young lady. And
though the glove was new, and fitted the hand perfectly, there was no
attempt to withdraw it. Instead, the young lady seemed to be very glad
indeed that her hand was in such safe keeping.
"Mary!" exclaimed the young man, "if it wasn't safe--as safe as a
church--I wouldn't dream of taking you up!" and at the mention of
"church" Mary Nestor blushed just the least bit. Or perhaps it was that
the prospective excitement of the moment caused the blood to surge into
her cheeks. Have it as you will.
"Come, Mary! you're not going to back out the last minute, are you?"
asked Tom Swift. "Everything is all right. I've made a trial flight,
and you've seen me come down as safely as a bird. You promised to go
up with me. I won't go very high if you don't like it, but my
experience has been that, once you're off the ground, it doesn't make
any difference how high you go. You'll find it very fascinating. So
skip along to the house, and Mrs. Baggert will help you get into your
togs."
"Shall I have to wear all those things--such as you have on?" asked
Mary, blushing again.
"Well, you'll be more comfortable in a fur-lined leather suit,"
asserted Tom. "And if it does make you look like an Eskimo, why I'm
sure it will be very becoming. Not that you don't look nice now," he
hastened to assure Miss Nestor, "but an aviation suit will be
very--well, fetching, I should say."
"If I could be sure it would 'fetch' me back safe, Tom--"
"That'll do! That'll do!" laughed the young aviator. "One joke like
that is enough in a morning. It was pretty good, though. Now go on in
and tog up."
"You're sure it's safe, Tom?"
"Positive! Trot along now. I want to fix a wire and--"
"Oh, is anything broken?" and the girl, who had started away from the
aeroplane, turned back again.
"No, not broken. It's only a little auxiliary dingus I put on to make
it easier to read the barograph, but I think I'll go back to the old
system. Nothing to do with flying at all, except to tell how high up
one is."
"That's just what I don't care to know, Tom," said Mary Nestor, with a
smile. "If I could imagine I was sailing along only about ten feet in
the air I wouldn't mind so much."
"Flying at that height would be the worst sort of danger. You leave it
to me, Mary. I won't take you up above the clouds on this sky ride;
though, later, I'm sure you'll want to try that. This is only a little
flight. You've been promising long enough to take a trip with me, and
now I believe you're trying to back out."
"No, really I'm not, Tom! Only, at the last minute, the machine looks
so small and frail, and the sky is so--big--"
She glanced up and seemed to shiver just a trifle.
"Don't be thinking of those things, Mary!" laughed Tom Swift. "Trot
along and get ready. The motor never worked better, and we may break a
few speed records this morning. No traffic cops to stop us, either, as
there might be if we were in an auto."
"There you go, Mary!" exclaimed Tom, as if struck with a new thought.
"You've ridden in an auto with me many a time, and you never were a bit
afraid, though we were in more danger than we'll be this morning."
"Danger, Tom, in an auto? How?"
"Why, danger of a wheel collapsing as we were going full speed; or the
steering knuckle breaking and sending us into a tree; danger of running
into a stone wall or a ditch; danger of some one running into us, or of
us running into some one else. There isn't one of these dangers on a
sky ride."
"No," said Mary slowly. "But there's the danger of falling."
"One against twenty. That's the safety margin. And, if we do fall, it
will be like landing in a feather bed! There, don't wait any longer. Go
and get ready."
Mary sighed, and then, seeming to summon her nerve to her aid, she
smiled brightly, waved her hand to Tom, and hastened toward his home,
where Mrs. Baggert the matronly housekeeper, was waiting to help the
girl attire herself in a flying-suit of leather.
Mary Nestor, who had a very warm place in the heart of Tom Swift, had,
as he stated, some time since promised to take a trip in the air with
the young inventor. But she had kept putting it off, for one reason or
another, until Tom began to despair of ever getting her to accompany
him. To-day, however, when she had called to inquire about his father,
who had been slightly ill, Tom had, after the social visit, insisted on
the promise being kept.
He had his mechanic get out one of the safest, though a speedy, double
machine, and, with Mary to watch, Tom had taken a trial flight, just to
show her how easy it was. It was not the first time she had seen him
take to the air, but now she watched with different emotions, for she
was vitally interested.
Tom had sailed down from aloft, making a landing in the aviation field
he had constructed near his home, and then he had insisted that Mary
should keep her promise to take a sky ride with him.
"Don't be too long now!" called Tom to the girl, as she hurried toward
the house. "Never mind about your hair, or whether your hat's on
straight. You're going to wear a cap, anyhow, and tuck your hair up
under that. It's hot down here, but it will be cold up above; so tell
Mrs. Baggert to see that you're warmly dressed."
"All right," and gaily she waved her hand to him. Now that she had made
her decision, and was really going up, she was not half so frightened
as she had been in the contemplation of it.
As Tom climbed out of the machine, to give it a careful inspection,
though he was certain there was nothing wrong, an aged colored man
shuffled toward him.
"Yo'--yo'll be mighty careful ob Miss Nestor now, won't yo', Massa
Tom?" asked the man.
"Of course I will, Eradicate," was the young inventor's answer.
"Case we ain't got many laik her no mo', an' dat's de truf, Massa Tom,"
went on the old man. "So be mighty careful laik!"
"That's what I will, Rad! And, while I'm up in the air, don't you and
Koku have any trouble."
"Ho! Trouble wif dat onery no-'count giant! I guess not!" and the
colored man limped off, highly indignant.
Satisfied, from an inspection of his machine, that it was as nearly
mechanically perfect as it was possible to be, Tom Swift finished his
trip around it and stood near the big propeller, waiting for Mary
Nestor to reappear. Presently she did so, and Tom gaily waved his hand
to her.
"You're a picture!" he cried, as he saw how particularly "fetching" she
looked in the aviator's costume which was like his own. Because of the
danger of entanglement, Miss Nestor had doffed her skirts, and wore the
costume of all aviators--men and women.
"I wish I had my camera!" cried Tom. "You look--stunning!"
"I hope that isn't any comment on how I'm going to feel if we have to
make a--forced landing, I believe you call it," she retorted.
"Oh, I'll take care of that!" exclaimed Tom. "Now up you go, and we'll
start," and he helped her to climb into the padded seat of the cockpit,
behind where he was to sit.
"Oh, Tom! Don't be in such a hurry!" expostulated Mary. "Let me get my
breath!"
"No!" laughed the young inventor. "If I did you might back out. Get
in, fasten the strap around you and sit still. That's all you have to
do. Don't be afraid, I'll be very careful. And don't try to yell at me
to go slower or lower once we're up in the air.
"Why not?" Mary wanted to know, as she settled herself in her seat.
"Because I can't very well hear you, or talk to you. The motor makes so
much noise, you know. We can do a little talking through this speaking
tube," and he indicated one, "but it isn't very satisfactory. So if you
have anything to say--"
"In the language of the poets," interrupted Mary, "if I have words to
spill, prepare to spill them now. Well, I haven't! Now I'm here, go
ahead! I shall probably be too frightened to talk, anyhow."
"Oh, no you won't--after the first little sensation," Tom assured her.
"You'll be crazy about it. Come on, Jackson!" he called to the
mechanician. "Start the ball rolling!"
Tom was in his place, his goggles and cap well down over his face, and
he was adjusting the switch as the mechanic prepared to spin the
propellers.
Suddenly a man came running from the Swift house, waving his arms not
unlike the blades of an aircraft propeller, he also shouted, but Tom,
whose ears were covered with his fur cap, could not hear. However,
Jackson did, and stopped whirling the blades, turning about to see what
was wanted.
"Why, it's Mr. Damon!" exclaimed Tom, as he caught sight of the excited
man. "Hello, what's the matter?" the youth asked, pulling aside one
flap of his head-covering so he might hear the answer.
"Tom! Wait a minute! Bless my mouse trap!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, "I want
to speak to you!" He was panting from his run across the field. "I just
got to your house--saw your father--he said you were going up with Miss
Nestor, but--bless my dog biscuit--"
"Can't stop now, Mr. Damon!" answered Tom, with a laugh. "I have only
just succeeded, by hard work, in getting Mary to a point where she has
consented to take a sky ride. If I stop now she'll back out and I'll
never get her in again. See you when I come back," and Tom pulled the
covering over his ear once more.
"But, Tom, bless my shoe laces! This is important!"
"So's this!" answered Tom, with a grin. He saw, by the motion of Mr.
Damon's lips, what the latter had said.
Around swung the propeller blades. The gasoline vapor in the cylinders
was being compressed.
"Contact!" called Tom sharply, as he pressed the switch to give the
igniting spark at the proper moment. The mechanic had stepped back out
of the way, in case there should be a premature starting of the
powerful engine, in which event the blades would have cut him to pieces.
"Wait, Tom! Wait! This is very important! Bless my collar button, Tom
Swift, but this is--"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
With a series of explosions, like those of a machine gun, the motor
started, and further talk was out of the question. Tom turned on more
gas. The propellers became almost invisible blades of light and shadow,
and the aeroplane began moving over the grassy field. The mechanic had
sprung out of the way, pulling Mr. Damon with him.
"Come back! Come back! Wait a minute, Tom Swift! Bless my pansy
blossoms, I want to tell you something!" cried the little man.
But Tom Swift was away and out of hearing. He had started on his sky
ride with Mary Nestor.