NO USE OF LIVING!
Only momentarily was Tom Swift halted in his progress toward the scene
of the blaze in the fireworks factory. To him, and to the chum who sat
beside him on the seat of the electric runabout, it appeared that the
blast had actually stopped the progress of the car. But perhaps that
was more their imagination than anything else, for the machine swept on
down the hill, at the foot of which was the conflagration.
"That was a bad one, Ned!" gasped Tom, as he turned to one side to pass
an engine on its way to the scene of excitement.
"I should say so! Must have been somebody hurt in that blow-up!"
"I only hope it wasn't Mary or her folks!" murmured Tom. "The wind is
sweeping the fire right that way!"
"What are you going to do, Tom?" yelled his chum, as the business
manager saw the young inventor heading directly for the blaze. "What's
the idea?"
"To rescue Mary, if she's in danger!"
"I'm with you!" was Ned's quick response. "But you can't go any closer.
The police are stretching the fire lines!"
"I guess they'll let me through!" said Tom grimly.
He slowed his car as he approached a place where an officer was driving
back the throng that sought to come closer to the blaze.
"Git back! Git back, I tell you!" stormed the policeman, pushing
against the packed bodies of men and boys. "There'll be another blow-up
in a minute or two, and a lot more of you killed!"
"Are there any killed?" asked Tom, stopping the car near the officer.
"I guess so--yes. And some of the houses are catching. Git back now!
You, too, with that car! You'll have to back up!"
"I've got to go through!" replied Tom, with tightening lips. "I've got
to go through, Cassidy!" He knew the officer, and the latter now
seemed, for the first time, to recognize the young inventor.
"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Swift?" he exclaimed. "Well, go ahead. But be
careful. 'Tis dangerous there--very dangerous, an'--"
His voice was lost in the roar of another explosion, not as loud or
severe as the first, but more plainly felt by Tom and Ned, for they
were nearer to it.
"Now will you git back!" cried Policeman Cassidy, and the crowd did,
without further urging.
Tom started the runabout forward again.
"We've got to rescue Mary!" he said to Ned, who nodded.
In another moment the two young men were lost to sight in a swirl of
smoke that swept across the street. And while they are thus temporarily
hidden may not this opportunity be taken of telling new readers
something of the hero of this story?
The young inventor was introduced in the first volume of this series,
called "Tom Swift and his Motor Cycle." It was Tom's first venture into
the realms of invention, after he had purchased from Mr. Wakefield
Damon a speedy machine that tried to climb a tree with that excitable
gentleman.
Tom, with the help of his father, an inventor of note, rebuilt the
motor cycle adding many improvements, and it served Tom in good stead
more than once.
From then on the career of Tom Swift was steadily onward and upward.
One new invention led to another from his second venture, a motor boat,
through an airship and other marvels, and eventually to a submarine. In
each of these vehicles of motion and travel Tom and his friends, Ned
Newton and Mr. Damon, had many adventures, detailed in the respective
volumes.
His venture in proceeding to save Mary Nestor from possible danger in
the blaze of the fireworks factory was not the first time Tom had
rendered service to the Nestor family. There was that occasion on which
he had sent his wireless message from Earthquake Island, as related in
an earlier volume.
Space forbids the detailing of all that had happened to the young
inventor up to the time of the opening of this story. Sufficient to
say that Tom's latest achievement had been the recovery of treasure
from the depths of the ocean.
Tom Swift's activities in connection with his inventions had become so
numerous that the Swift Construction Company, of which Ned Newton was
financial manager and Mr. Damon one of the directors, had been formed.
And when the rumor came that there was a chance to salvage some of the
untold wealth at the bottom of the sea, Tom was interested, as were his
friends.
It was decided to search for the wreck of the Pandora, sunk in the West
Indies, and one of Tom's latest submarine craft was utilized for this
purpose.
Not to go into all the details, which are given in the last volume of
this series, entitled "Tom Swift and His Undersea Search," suffice it
to say that the venture was begun. Matters were complicated owing to
the fact that Mary Nestor's uncle, Barton Keith, was in trouble over
the loss of valuable papers proving his title to some oil lands. Mary
mentioned that a person, Dixwell Hardley, was the man who, it was
supposed, was trying to defraud her relative. And the complications may
be imagined when it is said that this same Hardley was the man who had
interested Tom in the undersea search for the riches of the Pandora.
Tom had been at home some time now, and it was while going over his
accounts with Ned, and, incidentally, planning new activities, that the
cry of fire broke in on them.
"Whew, Tom, some heat there!" gasped Ned, lowering his arm from his
face, an action which had been necessitated by Tom's daring in driving
the car close to the blazing fireworks factory.
"I should say so!" agreed Tom. "I can almost smell the rubber of my
tires burning. But we're out of the worst of it."
"Lucky she didn't take the notion to blow up as we were passing,"
grimly commented Ned. "Where are you aiming for now?"
"Mary's house. It's just beyond here. But we can't see it on account of
the smoke."
A few seconds later they had passed through the black pall that was
slashed here and there with red slivers of flame, and, coming to a more
open space, Ned and Tom cleared their eyes of smoke.
"I guess there's no immediate danger," remarked Tom, as he saw that the
home of Mary Nestor and the houses near her residence were, for the
time being, out of the path of the flames. The explosion had blown down
part of the blazing factory nearest the residential section, and the
flames had less to feed on.
But the conflagration was still a fierce one. Not half the big factory
was yet consumed, and every now and then there would sound dull,
booming reports, causing nervous screams from the women who were out in
front of their homes, while the men would crouch down as though fearing
a shower of fiery embers.
"Oh, Tom, I'm so glad you're here!" cried Mary, as the runabout drew up
in front of her home. "Do you think it will be much worse?" and she
clutched his arm, as he got down to speak to her.
"I think the worst is over, as far as you people here are concerned,"
the young inventor replied. "The wind has shifted a bit."
"And there are several engines near us, Tom," said Mr. Nestor, coming
forward. "The firemen tell me they will play streams of water on the
roofs and outsides of our houses if the flames start this way again."
"That ought to do the trick," said Tom, with a show of confidence.
"Anybody hurt around here?" he asked. "One of the policeman said he
heard several were killed."
"They may have been--in the factory," said Mr. Nestor. "Of course if
the fire and explosions had taken place in the daytime the loss of life
would have been great. But most of the workers had left some time
before the blaze was discovered. There are a few men on a night shift,
though, and I shouldn't be surprised but what some of them had
suffered."
"Too bad!" murmured the young inventor. "You're not worried about your
home, are you, Mrs. Nestor?" he asked of Mary's mother.
"Oh, Tom, I certainly am!" she exclaimed. "I wanted to bring out our
things, but Mr. Nestor said it wouldn't be of any use."
"Neither it would, if we've got to burn, but I don't believe we
have--now," said her husband. "That last explosion and the shift of the
wind saved us. I appreciate your coming over, Tom," he went on. "We
might have needed your help. It's queer there isn't some better, or
more effective, way of fighting a fire than just pouring on a
comparatively insignificant bit of water," he added, as, from what was
now a safe distance, they watched the firemen using many lines of hose.
"They do have chemical extinguishers," said Ned.
"Yes, for little baby blazes that have just started," went on Mr.
Nestor. "But in all the progress of science there has not been much
advance in fighting fires. We still do as they did a hundred years
ago--squirt water on it, and mighty little of it compared to the blaze.
It would take a week to put this fire out by the water they are using
if it were not for the fact that the blaze eats itself up and has
nothing more to feed on."
"We'll have to get Tom to invent a new way of fighting fire," remarked
Ned.
The young inventor was about to reply when several firemen, equipped
with smoke helmets which they adjusted as they ran, came running down
the street.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom of one whom he knew.
"Some men are trapped in a small shed back of the factory," was the
answer. "We just heard of it, and we're going in after them. Oh!
Oh--my--my heart!" he gasped, and he sank to the sidewalk. Evidently
he was either overcome by the smoke and poisonous gases or by his
exertions.
Tom grasped the situation instantly. Taking the smoke helmet from the
exhausted fire-fighter, the young inventor shouted:
"I'll fill your place! See if you can grab a hat, Ned, and come on!"
One of the other firemen had two helmets, and he offered Ned one.
Pausing only long enough to see that Mr. Nestor and some others were
looking after the exhausted "smoke-eater," Ned raced on after Tom. The
two young men, following the firemen, made their way around the end of
the factory to the smoke-filled yard in the rear. But for the helmets,
which were like the gas masks of the Great War, they would not have
been able to live.
One of the firemen pointed through the luridly-lighted smoke to a small
structure near the main building. This was beginning to burn. With
quick blows of an axe the door was hewed down, and the rescue party,
including Tom and Ned, made its way inside. In the light from the
blaze, as it filtered through the windows, it could be seen that a man
lay in a huddled heap on the floor.
By motions the leader of the rescue squad made it clear that the man
was to be carried out, and Tom helped with this while Ned, using an
axe, cleared away some debris to enable the door to be opened fully so
the men could pass out carrying their burden.
The man was taken to the Nestor yard and stretched out on the grass.
Word was relayed to one of the ambulance doctors who were on the scene
attending to several injured firemen, and in a short time the man, who,
it appeared, had been overcome by smoke, was revived.
"Well, that was a narrow squeak for you," said one of the firemen, glad
to breathe without a mask on.
"Yes, it was touch and go," remarked the young doctor, who had used
heroic measures to bring the man back from the brink of the grave. "But
you'll live now, all right."
The revived man looked dully about him. He seemed somewhat bewildered.
"Of what use to live?" he murmured. "You might as well have let me die
in there. Life isn't worth living now," and he sank into a stupor,
while Tom and the others looked wonderingly at one another.