A FORCED LANDING
Josephus Baxter seemed to have recovered some of his spirits after his
narrow escape from death in the fireworks factory blaze. He greeted Tom
and Ned with a smile as they entered the improvised laboratory he had
been able to set up in what had once been a factory for the making of
wooden ware, an industry that, for some reason, did not flourish in
Shopton.
"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Swift," said the chemist, who seemed to have
aged several years in the few weeks that had intervened since the fire.
"I want to thank you for giving me a chance to start over again."
"Oh, that's all right," said Tom easily. "We inventors ought to help
one another. Are you able to do anything here?"
"As much as possible without my secret formulae," was the answer. "If I
only had those back from the rascals, Field and Melling, I would be
able to go ahead faster. As it is, I am working in the dark. For some
of the formulae were given to me by a Frenchman, and I had only one
copy. I kept that in the safe of the fireworks concern, and after the
fire it could not be found."
"Was the safe destroyed?" asked Tom.
"No. But the doors were open, and much of what had been inside was in
ashes and cinders. Amos Field claimed that the explosion had blown open
the safe and burned a lot of their valuable fireworks formulae too."
"And you believe they have yours?" asked Ned.
"I'm sure of it!" was the fierce answer. "Those men are unprincipled
rogues! They had been at me ever since I was foolish enough to tell
them about my formulae to get me to sell them a share. But I refused,
for I knew the secret mixtures would make my fortune when I could
establish a new dye industry. Field and Melling claimed they wanted the
formulae for their fireworks, but that was only an excuse. The formulae
were not nearly so valuable for pyrotechnics as for dyes. The fireworks
business is not so good, either, since so many cities have voted for a
'Sane Fourth of July.'"
"I can appreciate that," said Tom. "But what we called for, Mr. Baxter,
is to find if you have room enough to let me do a little experimenting
here. I am working on a new kind of fire extinguisher, to be dropped on
tall buildings from an airship."
"Sounds like a good idea," said the chemist, rather dreamily.
"Well, I have the airship, and I can see my way clear to perfecting a
device to drop the chemicals in metal tanks or bombs," went on Tom.
"But what bothers me is the chemical mixture that will put out fires
better than the carbon dioxide mixtures now on the market."
"I haven't given that much study myself," said Mr. Baxter. "But you are
welcome to anything I have, Mr. Swift. The whole place, such as it is,
will be at your disposal at any time. I intend to have it in better
shape soon, but I have to proceed slowly, as I lost nearly everything I
owned in that fire. If I could only get those formulae back!" he sighed.
"Perhaps you may recall the combinations," suggested Ned. "Or can't you
get them from that Frenchman?"
"He is dead," answered the chemist. "Everything seems to be against me!"
"Well, it's always darkest just before daylight," said Tom. "So let us
hope for the best. We both have had a bit of bad luck. But when I think
of Rad, who may lose his eyesight, I can stand my losses smiling."
"Yes," agreed Mr. Baxter, "you have big assets when you have your
health and eyesight."
Three days later the eye specialist looked at Rad. Tom stood by
anxiously and waited for the verdict. The doctor motioned to the young
inventor to follow him out of the room, while Mrs. Baggert replaced the
bandages on the colored man's eyes and Koku stood near him,
sympathetically patting Rad on the back.
"Well?" asked Tom nervously, as he faced the physician.
"I am sorry, Mr. Swift, that I can not hold out much hope that your man
will ever regain his sight," was the answer.
Tom could not repress a gasp of pity.
"I do not say that the case is altogether hopeless," the doctor went
on; "but it would be wrong to encourage you to hope for much. I may be
able to save partly the sight of one eye."
"Poor Rad!" murmured Tom. "This will break his heart."
"There is no need for telling him at once," Dr. Henderson said. "It
will only make his recovery so much the slower. It will be weeks before
I am able to operate, and, meanwhile, he should be kept as comfortable
and cheerful as possible."
"We'll see to that," declared Tom. "Is he otherwise injured?"
"No, it is merely his eyesight that we have to fear for. And, as I
said, that is not altogether hopeless, though it would not be honest to
let you look for much success. I shall see him from time to time until
his eyes are ready to operate on."
Tom and his friends were forced to take such comfort as they could from
this verdict, but no hint of their downcast feelings were made manifest
to Eradicate.
"Whut de doctor man done say, Massa Tom?" asked Eradicate when the
young inventor went back into the sick room.
"Oh, he talked a lot of big Latin words, Rad--bigger words than you
used to use on your mule Boomerang," and Tom forced a laugh. "All he
meant was that you'd have to stay in bed a while and let Koku wait on
you."
"Huh! Am dat--dat big--dat big nice man heah now?" asked Rad, feeling
around with his bandaged hand; and a smile showed beneath the cloth
over his eyes.
"I here right upsidedown by you, Rad," said Koku, and his big hand
clasped the smaller one of the black man.
"Koku--yo'--yo' am mighty good to me," murmured Eradicate. "I reckon I
been cross to yo' sometimes, but I didn't mean nuffin' by it!"
"Huh! me an' you good friends now," said the giant. "Anybody what hurt
my Rad, I--I--bust 'im! Dat I do!" cried the big fellow.
"Come on," whispered Tom to Ned. "They'll get along all right together
now."
But Eradicate caught the sound of his young employer's footsteps and
called:
"Yo' goin', Massa Tom?"
"Yes, Rad. Is there anything you want?"
"No, Massa Tom. I jest wanted to ast if yo' done 'membered de time mah
mule Boomerang got stuck in de road, an' yo' couldn't git past in yo'
auto? Does yo' 'member dat?"
"Indeed I do!" laughed Tom, and Eradicate also chuckled at the
recollection.
"That laugh will do him more good than medicine," declared the doctor,
as he took his leave. "I'll come again, when I can make a more thorough
examination," he added.
For Tom the following days, that lengthened into weeks, were anxious
ones. There was a constant worry over Eradicate. Then, too, he was
having trouble with his latest invention--his aerial fire-fighting
apparatus. It was not that Tom was financially dependent on this
invention. He was wealthy enough for his needs from other patented
inventions he and his father owned.
But Tom Swift was a lad not easily satisfied. Once embarked on an
enterprise, whether it was the creation of a gigantic searchlight, an
electric rifle, a photo telephone or a war tank, he never rested until
he had brought it to a successful consummation.
But there was something about this chemical fire extinguishing mixture
that defied the young inventor's best efforts. Mixture after mixture
was tried and discarded. Tom wanted something better than the usual
carbonate and sulphuric combination, and he was not going to rest until
he found it.
"I think you've struck a blind lead, Tom," said Ned, more than once.
"Well, I'm not going to give up," was the firm answer.
"Bless my shoe laces!" cried Mr. Damon, when he had called on Tom once
at the Baxter laboratory and had been driven out, holding his breath,
because of the chemical fumes, "I should think you couldn't even start
a fire with that around, Tom, much less need to put one out."
"Well, it doesn't seem to work," said the young inventor ruefully.
"Everything I do lately goes wrong."
"It is that way sometimes," said Mr. Baxter. "Suppose you let me study
over your formulae a bit, Mr. Swift. I haven't given much thought to
fire extinguishers, but I may be able, for that very reason, to
approach the subject from a new angle. I'll lay aside my attempt to get
back the lost formulae and help you."
"I wish you would!" exclaimed Tom eagerly. "My head is woozie from
thinking! Suppose I leave you to yourself for a time, Mr. Baxter? I'll
go for an airship ride."
"Yes, do," urged the chemist. "Sometimes a change of scene is of
benefit. I'll see what I can do for you."
"Will you come along, Ned--Mr. Damon?" asked Tom, as he prepared to
leave the improvised laboratory, the repairs on his own not yet having
been finished.
"Thank you, no," answered Ned. "I have some collections to make."
"And I promised my wife I'd take her riding, Tom," said the jolly,
eccentric man. "Bless my umbrella! she'd never forgive me if I went off
with you. But I'll run you to your first stopping place, Ned, and you
to your hangar, Tom."
His invitation was accepted, and, in due season, Tom was soaring aloft
in one of his speedy cloud craft.
"Guess I'll drop down and get Mary Nestor," he decided, after riding
about alone for a while and finding that the motor was running sweetly
and smoothly. "She hasn't been out lately."
Tom made a landing in a field not far from the home of the girl he
hoped to marry some day, and walked over to her house.
"Go for a ride? I just guess. I will!" cried Mary, with sparkling eyes.
"Just wait until I get on my togs."
She had a leather suit, as had Tom, and they were soon in the machine,
which, being equipped with a self-starter, did not need the services of
a mechanician to whirl the propellers.
"Oh, isn't it glorious!" said Mary, as she sat at Tom's side. They
were in a little enclosed cabin of the craft--which carried just
two--and, thus enclosed, they could speak by raising their voices
somewhat, for the noise of the motor was much muffled, due to one of
Tom's inventions.
Other rides on other days followed this one, for Tom found more rest
and better refreshment after his hours of toil and study in these rides
with Mary than in any other way.
"I do love these rides, Tom!" the girl cried one day when the two were
soaring aloft. "And this one I really believe is better than any of the
rest. Though I always think that," she added, with a slight laugh.
"Glad you like it," Tom answered, and there was something in his voice
that caused Mary to look curiously at him.
"What's the matter, Tom?" she asked. "Has anything happened? Is Rad's
case hopeless?"
"Oh, no, not yet. Of course it isn't yet sure that he will ever see
again, but, on the other hand, it isn't decided that he can't. It's a
fifty-fifty proposition."
"But what makes you so serious?"
"Was I?"
"I should say so! You haven't told me one funny thing that Mr. Damon
has said lately."
"Oh, haven't I? Well, let me see now," and he sent the machine up a
little. "Well, the other day he--"
Tom suddenly stopped speaking and began rapidly turning several valve
wheels and levers.
"What--what's the matter?" gasped Mary, but she did not clutch his arm.
She knew better than that.
"The motor has stopped," Tom answered, and the girl became aware of a
cessation of the subdued hum.
"Is it--does it mean danger?" she asked.
"Not necessarily so," Tom replied. "It means we have to make a forced
landing, that's all. Sit tight! We're going down rather faster than
usual, Mary, but we'll come out of it all right!"'