Tom Swift Among the Fire Fighters; Or, Battling with Flames from the Air

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS

CHAPTER I

A BAD PLACE FOR A FIRE

"Impossible, Ned! It can't be as much as that!"

"Well, you can prove the additions yourself, Tom, on one of the adding

machines. I've been over 'em twice, and get the same result each time.

There are the figures. They say figures don't lie, though it doesn't

follow that the opposite is true, for those who do not stick closely to

the truth do, sometimes, figure. But there you have it; your financial

statement for the year," and Ned Newton, business manager for Tom

Swift, the talented young inventor, shoved a mass of papers across the

table to his friend and chum, as well as employer.

"It doesn't seem possible, Ned, that we have made as much as that this

past year. And this, as I understand it, doesn't include what was taken

from the wreck of the Pandora?"

Tom Swift looked questioningly at Ned Newton, who shook his head in

answer.

"You really didn't get anything to speak of out of your undersea

search, Tom," replied the young financial manager, "so I didn't include

it. But there's enough without that."

"I should say so!" exclaimed Tom. "Whew!" he whistled, "I didn't think

I was worth that much."

"Well, you've earned it, every cent, with the inventions of yourself

and your father."

"And I might add that we wouldn't have half we earn if it wasn't for

the shrewd way you look after us, Ned," said Tom, with a warm smile at

his friend. "I appreciate the way you manage our affairs; for, though I

have had some pretty good luck with my searchlight, wizard camera, war

tank and other contraptions, I never would have been able to save any

of the money they brought in if it hadn't been for you."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," remarked Ned modestly.

"I appreciate that," began Tom Swift. "And I want to say, Ned--"

But Tom did not say what he had started to. He broke off suddenly, and

seemed to be listening to some sound outside the room of his home where

he and his financial and business manager were going over the year's

statement and accounting.

Ned, too, in spite of the fact that he had been busy going over

figures, adding up long columns, checking statements, and giving the

results to Tom, had been aware, in the last five minutes, of an

ever-growing tumult in the street. At first it had been no more than

the passage along the thoroughfare of an unusual number of pedestrians.

Ned had accounted for it at first by the theory that some moving

picture theater had finished the first performance and the people were

hurrying home.

But after he had finished his financial labors and had handed Tom the

first of a series of statements to look over, the young financial

expert began to realize that there was no moving picture house near

Tom's home. Consequently the passing throngs could not be accounted for

in that way.

Yet the tumult of feet grew in the highway outside. Ned had begun to

wonder if there had been an attempted burglary, a fight, or something

like that, calling for police action, which had gathered an unusual

throng that warm, spring evening.

And then had come Tom's interruption of himself when he broke off in

the middle of a sentence to listen intently.

"What is it?" asked Ned.

"I thought I heard Rad or Koku moving around out there," murmured Tom.

"It may be that my father is not feeling well and wants to speak to me

or that some one may have telephoned. I told them not to disturb me

while you and I were going over the accounts. But if it is something of

importance--"

Again Tom paused, for distinctly now in addition to the ever-increasing

sounds in the streets could be heard a shuffling and talking in the

hall just outside the door.

"G'wan 'way from heah now!" cried the voice of a colored man.

"It is Rad!" exclaimed Tom, meaning thereby Eradicate Sampson, an aged

but faithful colored servant. And then the voice of Rad, as he was most

often called, went on with:

"G'wan 'way! I'll tell Massa Tom!"

"Me tell! Big thing! Best for big man tell!" broke in another voice; a

deep, booming voice that could only proceed from a powerfully built man.

"Koku!" exclaimed Tom, with a half comical look at Ned. "He and Rad are

at it again!"

Koku was a giant, literally, and he had attached himself to Tom when

the latter had made one of many perilous trips. So eager were Eradicate

and Koku to serve the young inventor that frequently there were more or

less good-natured clashes between them to see who would have the honor.

The discussion and scuffle in the hall at length grew so insistent that

Tom, fearing the aged colored man might accidentally be hurt by the

giant Koku, opened the door. There stood the two, each endeavoring to

push away the other that the victor might, it appeared, knock on the

door. Of course Rad was no match for Koku, but the giant, mindful of

his great strength, was not using all of it.

"Here! what does this mean?" cried Tom, rather more sternly than he

really meant. He had to pretend to be stern at times with his old

colored helper and the impulsive and powerful giant. "What are you

cutting up for outside my door when I told you I must be quiet with Mr.

Newton?"

"No can be quiet!" declared the giant. "Too much noise in street--big

crowds--much big!"

He spoke an English of his own, did Koku.

"What are the crowds doing?" asked Ned. "I thought we'd been hearing an

ever increasing tumult, Tom," he said to the young inventor.

"Big crowds--'um go to see big--"

"Heah! Let me tell Massa Tom!" pleaded Rad. Poor Rad! He was getting

old and could not perform the services that once he had so readily and

efficiently done. Now he was eager to help Tom in such small measure as

carrying him a message. So it was with a feeling of sadness that Tom

heard the old man say again, pleadingly:

"Let me tell him, Koku! I know all 'bout it! Let me tell Massa Tom whut

it am, an'--"

"Well, go ahead and tell me!" burst out Tom, with a good-natured laugh.

"Don't keep me in suspense. If there's anything going on--"

He did not finish the sentence. It was evident that something of moment

was going on, for the crowds in the street were now running instead of

walking, and voices could be heard calling back and forth such

exclamations as:

"Where is it?"

"Must be a big one."

"And with this wind it'll be worse!"

Tom glanced at Ned and then at the two servants.

"Has anything happened?" asked the young inventor.

"Dey's a big fire, Massa Tom!" exploded Rad.

"Heap big blaze!" added Koku.

At the same time, out in the street high and clear, the cry rang out:

"Fire! Fire!"

"Is it any of our buildings?" exclaimed Tom, in his excitement catching

hold of the giant's arm.

"No, it's quite a way off, on de odder side of town," answered the

colored man. "But we t'ought we'd better come an' tell yo', an'--"

"Yes! Yes! I'm glad you did, Rad. It was perfectly right for you to

tell me! I wish you'd done it sooner, though! Come on, Ned! Let's go to

the blaze! We can finish looking over the figures another time. Is my

father all right, Rad?"

"Yes, suh, Massa Tom, he's done sleepin' good."

"Then don't disturb him. Mr. Newton and I will go to the fire. I'm

glad it isn't here," and Tom looked from a side window out on many

shops that were not a great distance from the house; shops where he and

his father had perfected many inventions.

The buildings had grown up around the old Swift homestead, which, now

that so much industry surrounded it, was not the most pleasant place to

live in. Tom and his father only made this their stopping place in

winter. In the summer they dwelt in a quiet cottage far removed from

the scenes of their industry.

"We'll take the electric runabout, Ned," remarked Tom, as he caught up

a hat from the rack, an example followed by his friend. Together the

young inventor and the financial manager hurried out to the garage,

where Tom soon had in operation a small electric automobile, that, more

than once, had proved its claim to being the "speediest car on the

road."

As they turned out of the driveway into the street they became aware of

great crowds making their way toward a glow of sinister red light

showing in the eastern sky.

"Some blaze!" exclaimed Tom, as he turned on more power.

"You said it!" ejaculated Ned. "Must be a general alarm," he added, as

they caught the sound from the next street of additional apparatus

hurrying to the fire.

"Well, I'm glad it isn't on our side of town," remarked Tom, as he

looked back at the peaceful gloom surrounding and covering his own home

and work buildings.

"Where do you reckon it is?" asked Ned, as they sped onward.

"Hard to say," remarked the young inventor, as he steered to one side

to pass a powerful imported automobile which, however, did not have the

speed of the electric runabout. "A fire at night is always deceiving as

to direction. But we can locate it when we get to the top of the hill."

Shopton, the suburb of the town where Tom lived, was named so because

of the many shops that had been erected by the industry of the young

inventor and his father. In fact the town was named Shopton though of

late there had been an effort to change the name of the strictly

residential section, which lay over the hill toward the river.

Tom's car shot up the slope with scarcely any slackening of speed, and,

as he passed a group of men and boys running onward, Tom shouted:

"Where is it?"

"The fireworks factory!" was the answer.

"Fireworks factory!" cried Ned. "Bad place for a fire!"

"I should say so!" exclaimed Tom.

The chums had become gradually aware of the gale that was blowing, and,

as they reached the summit of the hill and caught sight of the burning

factory, they saw the flames being swept far out from it and toward a

collection of houses on the other side of a vacant lot that separated

the fireworks industrial plant from the dwellings. As Tom Swift

glimpsed the fire, noted its proportions and the fierceness of the

flames, and saw which way the wind was blowing them, he turned on the

power to the utmost.

"What are you doing, Tom?" yelled Ned.

"I'm going down there!" cried Tom. "That place is likely to explode any

minute!"

"Then why go closer?" gasped Ned, for his breath was almost taken away

by the speed of the car, and he had to hold his hat to keep it from

blowing away. "Why don't you play safe?"

"Don't you understand?" shouted Tom in his chum's ear. "The wind is

blowing the fire right toward those houses! Mary Nestor lives in one of

them!"

"Oh--Mary Nestor!" exclaimed Ned. Then he understood--Mary and Tom were

engaged to be married.

"They may be all right," Tom went on. "I can't be sure from this

distance. Or they may be in danger. It's a bad fire and--"

His voice was blotted out in the roar of an explosion which seemed to

hurl back the electric runabout and bring it to a momentary stop.

CHAPTER II

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.

CHAPTER III

TOM'S NEW IDEA

"What's the matter with him, Doctor?" asked Tom in a low voice of the

young physician who had been working over the man. "Do you think he is

worse hurt than appears? Is he dying, and is his mind wandering?"

"I don't believe so," answered the doctor. "At least I don't believe

that he is dying, though his mind may be wandering. He isn't

injured--at least not outwardly. Just temporarily overcome by smoke is

what it looks like to me. But of course I haven't made a thorough

examination."

"Hadn't we better get him into the house, Doctor?" asked Mr. Nestor,

who stood with Tom, Ned and a group of men and boys about the inert

form of the man lying on the grass. The rescued one was again seemingly

unconscious.

"The best medicine he can have is fresh air," the doctor replied. "He's

better off out here than in the house. Though if he doesn't revive

presently I will send him to the hospital."

The man did not appear to be so badly off but what he could hear, and

at these words he opened his eyes again.

"I don't want to go to the hospital," he murmured. "I'll be all right

presently, and can go home, though--Oh, well, what's the use?" he asked

wearily, as though he had given up some fight. "I've lost everything."

"Well, you've got a deal of life left in you yet; and that's more than

you could say of some who have come out of smaller fires than this,"

said one of the firemen who, with Tom, had carried the man out of the

shed. "Come on, we'd better be getting back," he said to his companion.

"The worst of it is over, but there'll be plenty to do yet."

"You said it!" commented the other grimly.

They went out of the Nestor yard, many of the crowd that had gathered

during the rescue following. The doctor administered some more

stimulant in the shape of aromatic spirits of ammonia to the man, who,

after his momentary revival, had again lapsed into a state of stupor.

"Who is he?" asked Tom, as the physician knelt down beside the silent

form.

"I don't know," said Mr. Nestor. "I know quite a number connected with

the fireworks factory, but this man is a stranger to me."

"I've seen him going into the main offices several times," remarked

Mary, who was standing beside Tom. "He seemed to be one of the company

officers."

"I don't believe so, Mary," stated her father. "I know most of the

fireworks company officials, and I'm sure this man is not one of them.

Poor fellow! He seems to be in a bad way."

"Mentally, as well as physically," put in Ned. "He acted as if sorry

that we had saved his life."

"Too bad," murmured Mary, and then a policeman, who had just come into

the yard to get the facts for his report, looked at the figure lying on

the grass, and said:

"I know him."

"You do?" cried Tom. "Who is he?"

"Name's Baxter, Josephus Baxter. He's a chemist, and he works in the

fireworks factory here. Not as one of the hands, but in the experiment

laboratory. I've seen him there late at night lots of times. That's how

I got acquainted with him. He was going in around two o'clock one

morning, and I stopped him, thinking he was a thief. He proved his

identity, and I've passed the time of day with him many a time since."

"Where does he live?" asked Mr. Nestor.

"Down on Clay Street," and the officer mentioned the number. "He lives

all alone, so he told me. He's some sort of an inventor, I guess. At

least I judged so by his talk. Do you want an ambulance, Doctor?" he

asked the physician.

"No, I think he's coming around all right," was the answer. "If we had

an auto we could send him home."

"I'll take him in the runabout," eagerly offered Tom. "But if he lives

all alone will it be safe to leave him in his house?"

"He ought to be looked after, I suppose," the doctor stated. "He'll be

all right in a day or so if no complications set in, but he'll be weak

for a while and need attention."

"Then I'll take him home with me!" announced Tom. "We have plenty of

room, and Mrs. Baggert will feel right at home with some one to nurse.

Bring the runabout here, will you please, Ned?"

As Ned darted off to run up the machine, the man opened his eyes again.

For a moment he did not seem to know where he was or what had happened.

Then, as he saw the lurid light of the flames which were now dying away

and realized his position, he sighed heavily and murmured:

"It's all over!"

"Oh, no, it isn't!" cheerfully exclaimed the doctor. "You will be all

right in a few days."

"Myself, yes, maybe," said the man bitterly, and he managed to rise to

his feet. "But what of my future? It is all gone! The work of years is

lost."

"Burned in the fire?" asked Tom, wondering whether the man was a major

stockholder in the company. "Didn't you have any insurance? Though I

suppose you couldn't get much on a fireworks plant," he added, for he

knew something of insurance matters in connection with his own business.

"Oh, it isn't the fire--that is directly," said the man, in the same

bitter tones. "I've lost everything! The scoundrels stole them! And

I--Oh, never mind!" he cried. "What's the use of talking? I'm down and

out! I might just as well have died in the fire!"

Tom was about to make some remark, but the doctor motioned to him to

refrain, and then Ned came up with the runabout. At first Josephus

Baxter, which was the name of the man who had been rescued, made some

objections to going to Tom's home. But when it was pointed out that he

might lapse into a stupor again from the effects of the smoke poisons,

in which event he would have no one to minister to him at his lonely

home, he consented to go to the residence of the young inventor.

"Though if I do lapse into unconsciousness you might as well let me

keep on sleeping until the end," said Mr. Baxter bitterly to Tom and

Ned, as they drove away from the scene of the fire with him.

"Oh, you'll feel better in the morning," cheerfully declared Ned.

The man did not answer, and the two chums did not feel much like

talking, for they were worn out and weary from their exertions at the

fire. The factory had been pretty well consumed, though by strenuous

labors the blaze had not extended to adjoining structures. The home of

Mary Nestor was saved, and for this Tom Swift was thankful.

Mrs. Baggert, the Swift's housekeeper, was indeed glad to have some one

to "fuss over," as Tom put it. She prepared a bed for Mr. Baxter, and

in this the weary and ill man sank with a sigh of relief.

"Can I do anything for you?" asked Tom, as he was about to go out and

close the door.

"No--thank you," was the halting reply. "I guess nothing can be done.

Field and Melling have me where they want me now--down and out."

"Do you mean Amos Field and Jason Melling of the fireworks firm?" asked

Tom, for the names were familiar to him in a business way.

"Yes, the--the scoundrels!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter, and from his voice

Tom judged that he was growing stronger. "They pretended to be my

friends, giving me a shop in which to work and experiment, and when the

time came they took my secret formulae. I believe that is what they

started the fire for--to conceal their crime!"

"You don't mean that!" cried Tom. "Deliberately to start a fire in a

factory where there was powder and other explosives! That would be a

terrible crime!"

"Field and Melling are capable of just such crimes as that!" said

Josephus Baxter, bitterly. "If they took my formulae they wouldn't stop

at arson."

"Were your formulae for the manufacture of fireworks?" asked Tom.

"Not altogether," was the reply. "I had several formulae for valuable

chemical combinations. They could be used in fireworks, and that is why

I could use the laboratory here. But the main use of my discoveries is

in the dye industry. I would have been a millionaire soon, with the

rise of the American dye industry following the shutting out of the

Germans after the war. But now, with my secret formulae gone, I am no

better than a beggar!"

"Perhaps it will not be as bad as you think," said Tom, recognizing the

fact that Mr. Baxter was in a nervous and excited state. "Matters may

look brighter in the morning."

"I don't see how they can," was the grim answer. "However, I appreciate

all that you have done for me. But I fear my case is hopeless."

"I'll see you again in the morning," Tom said, trying to infuse some

cheerfulness into his voice.

He found Ned waiting for him when he came downstairs.

"How is he?" asked the young business manager.

"In rather a bad way--mentally, at least," and Tom told of the lost

formulae. "Do you know, Ned," he went on, "I have an idea!"

"You generally do have--lots of 'em!" Ned rejoined.

"But this is a new one," went on Tom. "You saw what trouble they had

this evening to get a stream of water to the top stories of that

factory, didn't you?"

"Yes, the pressure here isn't what it ought to be," Ned agreed. "And

some of our engines are old-timers."

"Why is it necessary always to fight a fire with water?" Tom continued.

"There are plenty of chemicals that will put out a fire much quicker

than water."

"Of course," Ned answered. "There are plenty of chemical fire

extinguishers on the market, too, Tom. If your idea is to invent a new

hand grenade, stay off it! A lot of money has been lost that way."

"I wasn't thinking of a hand grenade," said Tom, as he drew some sheets

of paper across the table to him. "My idea is on a bigger scale.

There's no reason, Ned, why a big fire in a tall building, like a

sky-scraper, shouldn't be fought from above, as well as from below. Now

if I had the right sort of chemicals I could--"

Tom paused in a listening attitude. There was the rush of feet and a

voice cried:

"I'll get them! I'll get the scoundrels!"

CHAPTER IV

AN EXPERIMENT

"That can't be Koku and Rad in one of their periodic squabbles, can

it?" asked Ned.

"No. It's probably Mr. Baxter," Tom answered. "The doctor said he might

get violent once or twice, until the effects of his shock wore off.

There is some quieting medicine I can give him. I'll run up."

"Guess I'd better go along," remarked Ned. "Sounds as if you'd need

help."

And it did appear so, for again the frenzied shouts sounded:

"I'll get 'em! I'll get the scoundrels who stole my secret formulae

that I worked over so many years! Come back now! Don't put the match

near the powder!"

Tom and Ned hurried to the room where the unfortunate chemist had been

put to bed, to find him out in the hall, wrapped in a bedquilt, and

with Mrs. Baggert vainly trying to quiet him. Mr. Baxter stared at Tom

and Ned without seeing them, for he was in a delirium of fever.

"Have you my formulae?" he asked. "I want them back!"

"You shall have them in the morning," replied Tom soothingly. "Lie

down, and I'll bring them to you in the morning. And drink this," he

added, holding out a glass of soothing mixture which the doctor had

ordered in case the patient should become violent.

Josephus Baxter glared about with wild eyes, but between them Tom and

Mrs. Baggert managed to get him to drink the mixture.

"Bah! It's as bad as some of my chemicals!" spluttered the chemist, as

he handed back the glass. "You are sure you'll have my formulae in the

morning?" he asked, as he turned to go back to his room.

"I'll do my best," declared Tom cheerfully. "Now please lie down."

Which, after some urging, Mr. Baxter consented to do. Eradicate wanted

to lie down in the hall outside the excited chemist's door to guard

against his emerging again, but Tom decided on Koku. The giant, though

not as intelligent as the colored man, was more efficient in an

emergency because of his great strength. Eradicate was getting old,

and there was a pathetic droop to his figure as he shuffled off when

Koku superseded him.

"Ah done guess Ah ain't wanted much mo'," muttered Rad sadly.

"Oh, yes, you are!" cried Tom, as, the excitement over, he walked

downstairs with Ned. "I'm going to start something new, Rad, and I'll

need your help."

"Will yo', really, Massa Tom?" exclaimed faithful Rad, his face

lighting up. "Dat's good! Is yo' goin' off after mo' diamonds, or up to

de caves of ice?"

"Not quite that," answered the young inventor, recalling the stirring

experiences that had fallen to him when on those voyages. "I'm going to

work around home, Rad, and I'll need your help."

"Anyt'ing yo' wants, Massa Tom! Anyt'ing yo' wants!" offered the now

delighted Rad, and he went to bed much happier.

"Well, to resume where we left off," began Ned, when he and Tom were

once more by themselves, "what's the game?"

"Oh, I don't know that it's much of a game," was the answer. "But I

just have an idea that a big fire in a towering building can be fought

from above with chemicals, as well as from the ground with streams of

water.

"Well, I guess it could be," Ned agreed. "But how are you going to get

your chemicals in at the top? Shoot 'em up through a hose? If you do

that you'll need a special kind of hose, for the chemicals will rot

anything like rubber or canvas."

"I wasn't thinking of a hose," returned Tom. "What then?" asked the

young financial manager.

"An airship!" Tom exclaimed with such sudden energy that Ned started.

"It just came to me!" explained the youthful inventor. "I was

wondering how we could get the chemicals in from the top, and an

airship is the solution. I can sail over the burning building and drop

the chemicals down. That will douse the blaze if my plans go right."

Ned was silent a moment, considering Tom's daring plan and project.

Then, as it became clearer, the young banker cried:

"Blamed if I don't think that's just the thing, Tom! It ought to work,

and, if it does, it will save a lot of lives, to say nothing of

property! A fire in a sky-scraper ought to be fought from above. Then

the extinguisher element, whether chemicals or water, could be dropped

where they'd do the most good. As it is now, with water, a lot of it is

wasted. Some of it never reaches the heart of the fire, being splashed

on the outside of the building. A lot more turns to steam before it

hits the flames, and only a small percentage is really effective."

"That's my notion," Tom said.

"Then go ahead and do it!" urged his friend. "You have my permission!"

"Thanks," commented Tom dryly. "But there are several things to be

worked out before we can start. I've got to devise some scheme for

carrying a sufficient quantity of chemicals, and invent some way of

releasing them from an airship over the blaze. But that last part ought

to be easy, for I think I can alter my warfare bomb-dropping attachment

to serve the purpose.

"What I really need, however, is some new chemical combination that

will quickly put a really big blaze out of business. There are any

number of these chemicals, but most of them depend on the production of

carbon dioxide. This is the product of some solution of a carbonate and

sulphuric acid, and I suppose, eventually, I'll work out something on

that order. But I hope I may get something better."

"You haven't delved much into chemistry, have you?"

"No. And I wish now that I had. I see my limitations and realize my

weakness. But I can brush up a little on my chemistry. As for the

mechanical part, that of dropping the extinguisher on the blaze, I'm

not worrying over that end."

"No," agreed Ned. "You have enough types of airships to be able to

select just the best one for the purpose. But, say, Tom!" he suddenly

cried, "why not ask him to help you?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Baxter. He's a chemist. And though he says his formulae are about

dyes and fireworks, maybe he can put you in the way of inventing a

chemical solution that will be death to fires."

"He might," Tom agreed. "But I think he'll be out of business for some

time. This shock--being overcome by smoke and his secret formulae

having been stolen--seem to have affected his mind. I don't know that I

could depend on him."

"It's worth trying," declared Ned. "What do you suppose he means, Tom,

saying that Field and Melling stole his formulae?"

"Haven't the least idea. I only know those fireworks firm members

slightly, if at all. I'm not sure I'd recognize them if I met them. But

they are reputed to be wealthy, and I hardly think they would stoop to

stealing some inventor's formulae.

"We inventors are a suspicious lot, Ned, as you probably have found

out," he added with a smile. "We imagine the rest of the world is out

to cheat us, and I presume Josephus Baxter is no exception. Still,

there may be some truth in his story. I'll give him all the help I can.

But I'm going into the aerial fire-fighting game. I've been waiting for

something new, and this may be it."

"You may count on me!" declared Ned. "And now, unless you're going to

sit up all night and start studying chemistry, you'd better come to

bed."

"That's right. Tomorrow is another day. I hope Mr. Baxter gets some

rest. Sleep will improve him a lot, the doctor said."

"I know one friend of yours who will be glad to know that you are going

to start something," remarked Ned, as he and Tom started for their

rooms, for the young manager was staying with his friend for the night.

"Who?" Tom wanted to know.

"Mr. Wakefield Damon," was the answer. "He hasn't been over lately,

Tom."

"No, he's been off on a little trip, blessing everything from his

baggage check to his suspender buttons," laughed the young inventor, as

he recalled his eccentric acquaintance. "I shall be glad to see him

again."

"He'll be right over as soon as he learns what's in the wind,"

predicted Ned.

The hopes that Mr. Baxter would be greatly improved in the morning were

doomed to disappointment. He was in no actual danger, the doctor said,

but his recovery from the effects of the smoke he had breathed was not

as rapid as desired or hoped for.

"He's suffering from some shock," said the physician, "and his mental

condition is against him. He ought to be kept quiet, and if you can't

have him here, Mr. Swift, I can arrange to have him sent to a hospital."

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Tom exclaimed. "Let him stay here by all

means. We have plenty of room, and Mrs. Baggert has been wishing for

some one to nurse. Now she has him."

So it was arranged that the chemist should remain at the Swift home,

and he gave a languid assent when they spoke to him of the matter. He

really was much more ill than seemed at first.

But as everything possible had been done, Tom decided to go ahead with

the new idea that had come to him--that of inventing an aerial chemical

fire-fighting machine.

"And if we get a chance, Ned, we'll try to get back those secret

formulae Mr. Baxter claims to have lost," Tom declared. "I have heard

some stories about that fireworks firm, which make me believe there may

be something in Baxter's story."

"All right, Tom, I'm with you any time you need me," Ned promised.

The young inventor lost little time in beginning his operations. As he

had said, the chief need was a fire extinguishing chemical solution or

powder. Tom resolved to try the solution first, as it was easier to

make. With this end in view he proceeded to delve into old and new

chemistry books. He also sought the advice of his father.

And one day, when Ned called, Tom electrified his chum with the

exclamation:

"Well, I'm going to give it a try!"

"What?"

"My aerial chemical fire-fighting apparatus. Of course I only have the

chemical yet. I haven't worked on the carrying apparatus nor decided

how I will attach it to an airship. But I'm going up now with some of

my new solution and drop it on a blaze from above."

"Where are you going to get the fire?" asked Ned. "You can't have a

sky-scraper blaze made to order, you know."

"No, but as this is only an experiment," Tom said, "a big bonfire will

answer the purpose. I'm having Koku and Rad make one now down in our

big meadow. As soon as it gets hot enough and fierce enough, I'll sail

over it in my small machine, drop the extinguisher on it, and see what

happens. Want to come?"

"Sure thing!" cried Ned. "And I hope the experiment is a success!"

"Thanks," murmured Tom. "I'm about ready to start. All I have to do is

to take this tank up with me," and he pointed to one containing his new

mixture. "Of course the arrangement for dumping it out of the aircraft

is very crude," Tom said. "But I can work on that later."

Ned and he were busy putting the can of Tom's new chemical extinguisher

in the airship when the door of the hangar was suddenly opened and a

very much excited man entered crying:

"Fire! Fire! Bless my kitchen sink, your meadow's on fire, Tom Swift!

It's blazing high! Fire! Fire!"

CHAPTER V

THE EXPLOSION

Tom and Ned were so startled by the entrance of the excited man with

his cry of "Fire!" that the young inventor nearly dropped the tank of

liquid extinguisher he was helping to hoist into the aeroplane. Then,

as he caught sight of his visitor, Tom exclaimed:

"Hello, Mr. Damon! We were wondering whether you'd be along to witness

our first experiment."

"Experiment, Tom Swift! Experiment! Bless my Latin grammar! but you'd

much better be calling out the fire department to play on that blaze

down in your meadow. What is it--your barns or one of your new shops?"

"Neither one, Mr. Damon," laughed Ned. "It's only a blaze that Koku and

Rad started."

"And the fire department is here," added Tom.

"Where?" inquired the eccentric man.

"Here," and Tom pointed to his airship--one of the smaller craft--into

which the tank of chemicals had been hoisted.

"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Something new, eh, Tom?" His eyes glistened.

"Yes. Fighting fires from the air. I got the idea after the fireworks

factory went up in smoke. Will you come along? There's plenty of room."

"I believe I will," assented Mr. Damon. It was not the first time, by

any means, that he had gone aloft with Tom. "I happened to be coming

over in my auto," he went on to explain, "when I happened to see the

fire down in the meadow. I was afraid you didn't know about it."

"Oh, yes," replied Tom. "I had Rad and Koku light a big pile of packing

boxes, to represent, as nearly as possible, on a small scale, a burning

building. I plan now to sail over it and drop the tins of chemicals.

They are arranged to burst as they fall into the blaze, and I hope the

carbon dioxide set loose will blanket out the fire."

"Sounds interesting," commented Mr. Damon. "I'll go along."

The airship was wheeled out of the hangar and was soon ready for the

flight. A big cloud of black vapor down in the meadow told Tom and Ned

that Koku and Eradicate had done their work well. The giant and the

colored man had poured oil over the wood to make a fierce blaze that

would give Tom's new chemical combination a severe test.

A mechanic turned the propeller of the airship until there was an

accumulation of gas in the different cylinders. Then he stepped back

while Tom threw on the switch. This was not one of the self-starting

types, of which Tom possessed one or two.

"Contact!" cried Tom sharply, and the man stepped forward to give the

big blades a final turn that would start the motor. There was a

muffled roar and then a steady staccato blending of explosions. Tom

raced the motor while his men held the machine in place, and then,

satisfied that all was well, the young inventor gave the word, and the

craft raced over the ground, to soar aloft a little later.

Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon could look down to the meadow where the bonfire

was blazing. A crowd had collected, but the heat of the blaze kept them

at a good distance. Then, as many of the throng caught sight of the

airship overhead, there was a new interest for them.

Tom had told Ned and Mr. Damon, before the trio had entered the

machine, what he wanted them to do. This was to toss the chemicals

overboard at the proper time. Of course in his perfected apparatus Tom

hoped to have a device by which he could drop the fire extinguishing

elements by a mere pressure of his finger or foot, as bombs were

released from aircraft during the war. But this would serve for the

time being.

Nearer and nearer the blaze the airship approached until it was almost

above it. Tom had had some experience in bomb-dropping, and knew when

to give the signal.

At last the signal came. Mr. Damon and Ned heaved over the side the

metal containers of the powerful chemicals.

Down they went, unerring as an arrow, though on a slant, caused by the

impetus given them by the speed of the airship.

Tom and his friends leaned over the side of the machine to watch the

effect. They could see the chemicals strike the blaze, and it was

evident from the manner in which the fire died down that the containers

had broken, as Tom intended they should to scatter their contents.

"Hurray!" cried Ned, forgetting that he could not be heard, for no head

telephones were used on this occasion and the roar of the motor would

drown any human voice. "It's working, Tom!"

Truly the effect of the chemicals was seemingly to cause the fire to go

out, but it was only a momentary dying down. Koku and Rad had made a

fierce, yet comparatively small, conflagration, and though for a time

the gas generated by Tom's mixture dampened the blaze, in a few

seconds--less than half a minute--the flames were shooting higher than

ever.

Tom made a gesture of disappointment, and swung his craft around in a

sharp, banking turn. He had no more chemicals to drop, as he had

thought this supply would be sufficient. However, he had guessed badly.

The fire burned on, doing no damage, of course, for that had been

thought of when it was started in the meadow.

"Something wrong!" declared the young inventor, when they were back at

the hangar, climbing out of the machine.

"What was it?" asked Ned.

"Didn't use the right kind of chemicals," Tom answered. "From the way

the flames shot up, you'd think I had poured oil on the blaze instead

of carbon dioxide."

"Bless my insurance policy, Tom!" cried Mr. Damon, "but I'd hate to

trust to your apparatus if my house caught."

"Don't blame you," Tom assented. "But I'll do the trick yet! This is

only a starter!"

During the next two weeks the young inventor worked hard in his

laboratory, Mr. Swift sometimes helping him, but more often Koku and

Eradicate. Mr. Baxter had recovered sufficiently to leave the Swift

home. But though the chemist seemed well physically, his mind appeared

to be brooding over his loss.

"If I could only get my secret formulae back!" he sighed, as he thanked

Tom for his kindness. "I'm sure Field and Melling have them. And I

believe they got them the night of the fireworks blaze; the scoundrels!"

"Well, if I can help you, please let me," begged Tom. And then he

dismissed the matter from his mind in his anxiety to hit upon the right

chemical mixture for putting out fires from the air.

One afternoon, at the end of a week in which he had been busily and

steadily engaged on this work, Tom finally moved away from his

laboratory table with a sigh of relief, and, turning to Eradicate, who

had been helping him, exclaimed:

"Well, I think I have it now!"

"Good lan' ob massy, I hopes so!" exclaimed the colored man. "It sho'

do smell bad enough, Massa Tom, to make any fire go an' run an' drown

hisse'f! Whew-up! It's turrible stuff!"

"Yes, it isn't very pleasant," Tom agreed, with a smile. "Though I am

getting rather used to it. But when it's in a metal tube it won't

smell, and I think it will put out any fire that ever started. We'll

give it a test now, Rad. Just take that flask of red stuff and pour it

into this one of yellow. I'll go out and light the bonfire, and we'll

make a small test."

Leaving Rad to mix some of the chemicals, a task the colored man had

often done before, Tom went out into the yard near his laboratory to

start a blaze on which his new mixture could be tested.

He had not got far from the laboratory door when he felt a sudden jar

and a rush of air, and then followed the dull boom of an explosion.

Like an echo came the voice of Eradicate:

"Oh, Massa Tom, I'se blowed up! It done sploded right in mah face!"

CHAPTER VI

TOM IS WORRIED

Dropping what he had in his hands, Tom Swift raced back to the

laboratory where he had left Eradicate to mix the chemicals. Again the

despairing, frightened cry of the colored man rang out.

"I hope nothing serious has happened," was the thought that flashed

through Tom's mind. "But I'm afraid it has. I should have mixed those

new chemicals myself."

Koku, the giant, who was at work in another part of the shop yard,

heard Rad's cry and came running up. As there was always more or less

jealousy between Eradicate and Koku, the latter now thought he had a

chance to crow over his rival, not, of course, understanding what had

happened.

"Ho! Ho!" laughed Koku. "You much better hab me work, Master Tom. I no

make blunderstakes like dat black fellow! I never no make him!"

"I don't know whether Rad has made a mistake or not," murmured Tom.

"Come along, Koku, we may need your help. There has been an explosion."

"Yep, dat Rad he don't as know any more as to blow up de whole place!"

chuckled Koku.

He thought he would have a chance to make fun of Eradicate, but neither

he nor Tom realized how serious had been the happening. As the young

inventor reached the laboratory, which he had left but a few seconds

before, he saw the interior almost in ruins. All about were scattered

various pieces of apparatus, test tubes, alembics, retorts, flasks, and

an electric furnace.

But what gave Tom more concern than anything else was the sight of

Eradicate lying in the midst of broken glass on the floor. The colored

man was moaning and held his hands over his face, and the young

inventor could see that the hands, which had labored so hard and

faithfully in his service, were cut and bleeding.

"Rad! Rad! what has happened?" cried Tom quickly.

"It sploded! It done sploded right in mah face!" moaned Eradicate.

"I--I can't see no mo', Massa Tom! I can't see to help yo' nevah no

mo'!"

"Don't worry about that, Rad!" cried Tom, as cheerfully as possible

under the circumstances. "We'll soon have you fixed up! Come in here,

Koku, and help me carry Rad out!"

Though the fumes from the chemicals that had exploded were choking,

causing both Tom and Koku to gasp for breath, they never hesitated. In

they rushed and picked up the limp figure of the helpless colored man.

"Poor Rad!" murmured the giant Koku tenderly. "Him bad hurt! I carry

him, Master Tom! I take him bed, an' I go for doctor! I run like

painted pig!"

Probably Koku meant "greased pig," but Tom never thought of that. All

his concern was for his faithful Eradicate.

"Me carry him, Master Tom!" cried Koku, all the petty jealousy of his

rival passing away now. "Me take care ob Rad. Him no see, me see for

him. Anybody hurt Rad now, got to hurt Koku first!"

It was a fine and generous spirit that the giant was showing, though

Tom had no time to speculate on it just then.

"We must get him into the house, Koku," said the young inventor. "And

two of us can carry him better than one. After we get him to a bed you

can go for the doctor, though I fancy the telephone can run even

quicker than you can, Koku."

"Whatever Master Tom say," returned the giant humbly, as he looked with

pity at the suffering form of his rival--a rival no longer. It seemed

that Rad's working days were over.

Tenderly the aged colored man was laid on a lounge in the living room,

Mr. Swift and Mrs. Baggert hovering over him.

"Where are you worst hurt, Rad?" asked Tom, with a view to getting a

line on which physician would be the best one to summon.

"It's all in mah face, Massa Tom," moaned the colored man. "It's mah

eyes. Dat stuff done sploded right in 'em! I can't see--nevah no mo'!"

"Oh, I guess it isn't as bad as that," said Tom. But when he had a

glimpse of the seared and wounded face of his faithful servant he could

not repress a shudder.

A physician was summoned by telephone, and he arrived in his automobile

at the same time that Mr. Damon reached Tom's house.

"Bless my bottle of arnica, Tom!" exclaimed the eccentric man, with

sympathy in his voice. "What's this I hear? One of your men tells me

old Eradicate is killed!"

"Not as bad as that, yet," replied Tom, as he came out, leaving the

doctor to make his first examination. "It was an explosion of my new

aerial fire-fighting chemicals that I left Rad to mix for me. If

anything serious results to him from this I'll drop the whole business!

I'll never forgive myself!"

"It wasn't your fault, Tom. Perhaps he did something wrong," said Mr.

Damon.

"Yes, it was my fault. I should not have let him take the chance with a

mixture I had tried only a few times. But we'll hope for the best. How

is he, Doctor?" Tom asked a little later when the physician came out on

the porch.

"He's doing as well as can be expected for the present," was the

answer. "I have given him a quieting mixture. His worst injury seems to

be to his face. His hands are cut by broken glass, but the hurts are

only superficial. I think we shall have to get an eye specialist to

look at him in a day or two."

"You mean that he--that he may go blind?" gasped Tom.

"Well, we'll not decide right away," replied the doctor, as cheerfully

as he could. "I should rather have the opinion of an oculist before

making that statement. It may be only temporary."

"That's bad enough!" muttered Tom. "Poor old Rad!"

"Me take care ob him," put in Koku, who had been humbly standing around

waiting to hear the news. "Me never be mad at dat black man no more!

Him my best friend! I lub him like I did my brudder!"

"Thank you, Koku," said Tom, and his mind went back to the time when he

had escaped in his airship from the gigantic men, of whom Koku and his

brother were two specimens. The brother had gone with a circus, and

Koku, for several years, only saw him occasionally.

Everything possible was done for Eradicate, and the doctor said that it

would be several days, until after the burns from the exploding

chemicals had partly healed, before the eye-doctor could make an

examination.

"Then we can only wait and hope," said Tom.

"And hope for the best!" advised Mr. Damon.

"I'll try," promised Tom. He went back to the laboratory with his

eccentric friend and with Ned, who had come over as soon as he heard

the news. Not much of an examination could be made, as the place was in

such ruins. But it was surmised that in combining the two chemical

mixtures a new one had been created, or at least one that Tom had not

counted on. This had exploded, blowing Eradicate down, flaring a sheet

of flame up into his face, scattering broken glass about, and generally

creating havoc.

"I can't understand it," said Tom. "I was trying to make a fire

extinguishing liquid, and it turned out to be a fire creator. I don't

see what was wrong."

"One chemical might have been impure," suggested Ned.

"Yes," agreed Tom. "I'll check them over and try to find out where the

mistake happened."

"This place will have to be rebuilt," observed Ned. "It's in bad shape,

Tom."

"I don't mind that in the least, if Rad doesn't lose his eyesight," was

the answer of the young inventor, and his friends could see that he was

much worried, as well he might be.

In silence Tom Swift looked about the ruins of what had been a fine

chemical laboratory.

"It will take a month to get this back in shape," he said ruefully. "I

guess I shall have to postpone my experiments."

"Why not ask Mr. Baxter to help you?" suggested Ned.

"What can he do?" Tom wanted to know. "He hasn't any laboratory."

"He has a sort of one," Ned rejoined. "You know you told me to keep

track of him and give him any help I could."

"Yes," Tom nodded.

"Well, the other day he came to me and said he had a chance to set up a

small laboratory in a vacant shop near the river. He needed a little

capital and I lent it to him, as you told me to."

"Glad you did," returned Tom. "But do you suppose his plant is large

enough to enable me to work there until mine is in shape again?"

"It wouldn't do any harm to take a look," suggested Ned.

"I'll do it!" decided Tom, more hopefully than he had spoken since the

accident.

CHAPTER VII

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!"'

CHAPTER VIII

STRANGE TALK

There was a rapid and sudden drop. Mary, sitting beside Tom Swift in

the speedy aeroplane, watched with fascinated eyes as he quickly

juggled with levers and tried different valve wheels. The girl, through

her goggles, had a vision of a landscape shooting past with the speed

of light. She glimpsed a brook, and, almost instantly, they had skimmed

over it.

A jar, a nerve-racking tilt to one side, the creaking of wood and the

rattle of metal, a careening, and then the machine came to a stop, not

exactly on a level keel, but at least right side up, in the midst of a

wide field.

Tom shut off the gas, cut his spark, and, raising his goggles, looked

down at Mary at his side.

"Scared?" he asked, smiling.

"I was," she frankly admitted. "Is anything broken, Tom?"

"I hope not," answered the young inventor. "At least if it is, the

damage is on the under part. Nothing visible up here. But let me help

you out. Looks as if we'd have to run for it."

"Run?" repeated Mary, while proving that she did not exactly need help,

for she was getting out of her seat unaided. "Why? Is it going to catch

fire?"

"No. But it's going to rain soon--and hard, too, if I'm any judge," Tom

said. "I don't believe I'll take a chance trying to get the machine

going again. We'll make for that farmhouse and stay there until after

the storm. Looks as if we could get shelter there, and perhaps a bit to

eat. I'm beginning to feel hungry."

"It is going to rain!" decided Mary, as Tom helped her down over the

side of the fusilage. "It's good we are so near shelter."

Tom did not answer. He was making a hasty but accurate observation of

the state of his aeroplane. The landing wheels had stood the shock

well, and nothing appeared to be broken.

"We came down rather harder than I wanted to," remarked Tom, as he

crawled out after his inspection of the machine. "Though I've made

worse forced landings than that."

"What caused it?" asked Mary, glancing up at the clouds, which were

getting blacker and blacker, and from which, now and then, vivid

flashes of lightning came while low mutterings of thunder rolled nearer

and nearer. "Something seemed to be wrong with the carburetor," Tom

answered. "I won't try to monkey with it now. Let's hike for that

farmhouse. We'll be lucky if we don't get drenched. Are you sure you're

all right, Mary?"

"Certainly, Tom. I can stand a worse shaking up than that. And you

needn't think I can't run, either!"

She proved this by hastening along at Tom's side. And there was need of

haste, for soon after they left the stranded aeroplane the big drops

began to pelt down, and they reached the house just as the deluge came.

"I don't know this place, do you, Tom?" asked Mary, as they ran in

through a gateway in a fence that surrounded the property. A path

seemed to lead all around the old, rambling house, and there was a

porch with a side entrance door. This, being nearer, had been picked

out by the young inventor and his friend.

"No, I don't remember being here before," Tom answered. "But I've

passed the place often enough with Ned and Mr. Damon. I guess they

won't refuse to let us sit on the porch, and they may be induced to

give us a glass of milk and some sandwiches--that is, sell them to us."

He and Mary, a little breathless from their run, hastened up on the

porch, slightly wet from the sudden outburst of rain. As Tom knocked on

the door there came a clap of thunder, following a burst of lightning,

that caused Mary to put her hands over her ears.

"Guess they didn't hear that," observed Tom, as the echoes of the blast

died away. "I mean my knock. The thunder drowned it. I'll try again."

He took advantage of a lull in the thundering reverberations, and

tapped smartly. The door was almost at once opened by an aged woman,

who stared in some amazement at the young people. Then she said:

"Guests must go to the front door."

"Guests!" exclaimed Tom. "We aren't exactly guests. Of course we'd like

to be considered in that light. But we've had an accident--my aeroplane

stopped and we'd like to stay here out of the storm, and perhaps get

something to eat."

"That can be arranged--yes," said the old woman, who spoke with a

foreign accent. "But you must go to the front door. This is the

servant's entrance."

Mary was just thinking that they used considerable formality for casual

wayfarers, when the situation dawned on Tom Swift.

"Is this a restaurant--an inn?" he asked.

"Yes," answered the old woman. "It is Meadow Inn. Please go to the

front door."

"All right," Tom agreed good-naturedly. "I'm glad we struck the place,

anyhow."

The porch extended around three sides of the old, rambling house.

Proceeding along the sheltered piazza, Tom and Mary soon found

themselves at the front door. There the nature of the place was at once

made plain, for on a board was lettered the words "Meadow Inn."

"I see what has happened," Tom remarked, as he opened the old-fashioned

ground glass door and ushered Mary in. "Some one has taken the old

farmhouse and made it into a roadhouse--a wayside inn. I shouldn't

think such a place would pay out here; but I'm mighty glad we struck

it."

"Yes, indeed," agreed Mary.

The old farmhouse, one of the best of its day, had been transformed

into a roadhouse of the better class. On either side of the entrance

hall were dining rooms, in which were set small tables, spread with

snowy cloths.

"In here, sir, if you please," said a white-aproned waiter, gliding

forward to take Tom's leather coat and Mary's jacket of like material.

The waiter ushered them into a room, in which at first there seemed to

be no other diners. Then, from behind a screen which was pulled around

a table in one corner, came the murmur of voices and the clatter of

cutlery on china, which told of some one at a meal there.

"Somebody is fond of seclusion," thought Tom, as he and Mary took their

places. And as he glanced over the bill of fare his ears caught the

murmur of the voices of two men coming from behind the screen. One

voice was low and rumbling, the other high-pitched and querulous.

"Talking business, probably," mused Tom. "What do you feel like

eating?" he asked Mary.

"I wasn't very hungry until I came in," she answered, with a smile.

"But it is so cozy and quaint here, and so clean and neat, that it

really gives one an appetite. Isn't it a delightful place, Tom? Did you

know it was here?"

"It is very nice. And as this is the first I have been here for a long

while I didn't know, any more than you, that it had been made into a

roadhouse. But what shall I order for you?"

"I should think you would have had enough experience by this time,"

laughed Mary, for it was not the first occasion that she and Tom had

dined out.

Thereupon he gave her order and his own, too, and they were soon eating

heartily of food that was in keeping with the appearance of the place.

"I must bring Ned and Mr. Damon here," said Tom. "They'll appreciate

the quaintness of this inn," for many of the quaint appointments of the

old farmhouse had been retained, making it a charming resort for a meal.

"Mr. Damon will like it," said Mary. "Especially the big fireplace,"

and she pointed to one on which burned a blaze of hickory wood. "He'll

bless everything he sees."

"And cause the waiter to look at me as though I had brought in an

escaped inmate from some sanitarium," laughed Tom. "No use talking, Mr.

Damon is delightfully queer! Now what do you want for dessert?"

"Let me see the card," begged Mary. "I fancy some French pastry, if

they have it."

Tom gazed idly but approvingly about as she scanned the list. The

sound of the rumbling and the higher-pitched voices had gone on

throughout the entire meal, and now, as comparative silence filled the

room, the clatter of knives and forks having ceased, Tom heard more

clearly what was being said behind the screen.

"Well, I tell you what it is," said the man whom Tom mentally dubbed

Mr. High. "We got out of that blaze mighty luckily!"

"Yes," agreed he of the rumbly voice, whom Tom thought of as Mr. Low,

"it was a close shave. If it hadn't been for his chemicals, though,

there would have been a cleaner sweep."

"Indeed there would! I never knew that any of them could act as fire

extinguishers."

Tom seemed to stiffen at this, and his hearing became more acute.

"They aren't really fire extinguishers in the real sense of the word,"

went on the other man behind the screen. "It must have been some

accidental combination of them. But in spite of that we put it all over

Josephus Baxter in that fire!"

"What's this? What's this?" thought Tom, shooting a glance at Mary and

noting that apparently she had not heard what was said. "What strange

talk is this?"

CHAPTER IX

SUSPICIONS

"What's that?" exclaimed Mary Nestor, giving such a start as she sat

opposite Tom at the restaurant table that she dropped the bill of fare

she had been looking over.

A crash had resounded through the room, but it spoke well for the state

of Tom's nerves that he gave no indication that he had heard the noise.

It was caused by a waiter when he dropped a plate, which was smashed

into pieces on the floor. The noise was startling enough to excuse Mary

for jumping in her chair, and it seemed to put an end to the strange

talk of "Mr. High" and "Mr. Low" back of the screen, for after the

crash of china only indistinct murmurs came from there. But Tom Swift

did not cease to wonder at the import of the talk about chemicals,

fire, and the mention of the name of Josephus Baxter.

"I think I'll try some of those Murolloas, as they call them, Tom,"

announced Mary, having made her selection of the pastry. "And may I

have another cup of tea?"

"Two if you like," answered the young inventor. "They say tea is good

for the nerves, and you seem to need something, judging by the way you

jumped when that plate fell."

"Oh, Tom, that isn't fair! After the way we had to come down in your

'plane!" objected Mary.

"That's right!" he conceded. "I forgot about that. My fault, entirely!"

Mary smiled, and seemed to have regained her composure. Tom glanced at

her anxiously, not because of what he thought might be the state of her

nerves, but to see if she had sensed anything the two men behind the

screen had said. But the girl gave no indication that her mind had been

occupied with anything more than the selection of her dessert.

"I wonder who they are, and what they meant by that talk," mused Tom,

as the waiter served the Murolloas to him and Mary. "Poor Baxter! It

looks as if he might have more enemies than the fireworks men he

accuses of having taken his valuable formulae. I must see him soon, and

have a talk with him. Yes, I must make a special point to see Josephus

Baxter. But first I'd like to have a glimpse of these men."

Tom's wish in this respect was soon gratified, for before he and Mary

had finished their pastry and tea there was a scraping of chairs back

of the sheltering screen, and the two men, "Mr. Low" and "Mr. High,"

who had finished their meal, came forth.

Tom's judgment as to the statures of the men, based on the quality of

their voices, was not exactly borne out. For it was the big man who had

the high pitched, squeaky voice, and the little man who had the deep,

rumbling tones.

They passed out, without more than a glance at Tom and his companion,

but the young inventor peered at them sharply. As far as he could tell

he had seen neither of them before, though he had an idea of their

identity.

Tom took the chance to make certain this conjecture when Mary left her

seat, announcing that she was going to the ladies' parlor to arrange

her hair, which the run to escape from the rain had disarranged.

"Some storm," Tom observed to the waiter, who came up when the young

inventor indicated that he wanted his check.

"Yes, sir, it came suddenly. Hope you didn't have to change a tire in

it, sir."

"No, my machine isn't that kind," replied Tom, as he handed out a

generous tip. "If I need a new tire I generally need a whole new

outfit."

"Oh, then--" Obviously the man was puzzled.

"We came in an aeroplane," Tom explained. "But we had to make a forced

landing. Is there a garage near here? I may need some help getting

started."

"We accommodate a few cars in what was once the barn, and we have a

good mechanic, sir. If you'd like to see him--"

"I would," interrupted Tom. "Tell the young lady to wait here for me.

I'll see if I can get the Scud to work. If not, I'll have to telephone

to town for a taxi. Did those men who just left come in a car?" and he

nodded in the direction taken by the two who had dined behind the

screen.

"Yes, sir. And they had engine trouble, I believe. Our man fixed up

their machine."

"Then he's the chap I want to see," thought Tom. "I'll have a talk with

him." He reasoned that he could get more about the identity of the two

mysterious men from the mechanic than from the waiter. Nor was he wrong

in this surmise.

"Oh, them two fellers!" exclaimed the mechanician, after he had agreed

to go with Tom to where the airship Scud was stalled. "They come from

over Shopton way. They own a fireworks factory--or they did, before it

burned."

"Are they Field and Melling?" asked Tom, trying not to let any

excitement betray itself in his voice.

"That's the names they gave me," said the man. "Little man's Field. He

gave me his card. I'm going to get a job overhauling his car. There

isn't enough work here to keep a man busy, and I told 'em I could do a

little on the outside. This place just started, and not many folks know

about it yet."

"So I judge," Tom said. "Well, I'll be glad to have you give me a hand.

I fancy the carburetor is out of order."

And this, when the young inventor and the mechanician from Meadow Inn

reached the stranded Scud, was found to be the case. The storm had

passed, and Mary told Tom she would not mind waiting at the Inn until

he found whether or not he could get his air craft in working order.

"There you are! That's the trouble!" exclaimed the mechanician, as he

took something out of the carburetor. "A bit of rubber washer choked

the needle valve."

"Glad you found it," said Tom heartily. "Now I guess we can ride back."

While preparations were being made to test the Scud after the

carburetor had been reassembled, Tom's mind was busy with many

thoughts, and chief among them were suspicions concerning Field and

Melling.

"If their talk meant anything at all," reasoned the young inventor, "it

meant that there was some deal in which Josephus Baxter got the worst

of it. 'Putting it over on him in the fire,' could only mean that. Of

course it isn't any of my business, in a way, but I don't think it is

right to stand by and see a fellow inventor defrauded.

"Of course," mused Tom, while his helper put the finishing touches to

the carburetor, "it may have been a business deal in which one took as

many chances as the other. There are always two sides to every story.

Baxter says they took his formulae, but he may have taken something

from them to make it even. The only thing is that I'd trust Baxter

sooner than I would those two fellows, and he certainly had a narrow

squeak at the fire.

"But I have my own troubles, I guess, trying to perfect that

fire-fighting chemical, and I haven't much time to bother with Field

and Melling, unless they come my way."

"There, I reckon she'll work," said the mechanician, as he fastened the

last valve in the carburetor. "It was an easier job than I expected.

Wasn't as much trouble as I had over their car those two fellers you

were speaking of--Field and Melling. They're rich guys!"

"Yes?" replied Tom, questioningly.

"Sure! They've started a big dye company."

"A dye company?" repeated the young inventor, all his suspicions coming

back as he recalled that Baxter had said his formulae were more

valuable for dyes than for fireworks.

"Yes, they're trying to get the business that used to go to the Germans

before the war," went on the man.

"Yes, the Germans used to have a monopoly of the dye industry," said

Tom, hoping the man would talk on. He need not have worried. He was of

the talkative type.

"Well, if these fellers have their way they'll make a million in dyes,"

proceeded the mechanician, as he stepped down out of the airship.

"They've built a big plant, and they have offices in the Landmark

Building."

"Where's that?" asked Tom.

"Over in Newmarket," the man went on, naming the nearest large city to

Shopton. "The Landmark Building is a regular New York skyscraper.

Haven't you seen it?"

"No," Tom answered, "I haven't. Been too busy, I guess. So Field and

Melling have their offices there?"

"Yes, and a big plant on the outskirts for making dyes. They half

offered me a job at the factory, but I thought I'd try this out first;

I like it here."

"It is a nice place," agreed Tom. "Well, now let's see if she'll work,"

and he nodded at the Scud.

It needed but a short test to demonstrate this and soon Tom went back

to the Inn for Mary.

"Are you sure we shall not have to make another forced landing?" she

asked with a smile, a she took her place in the cockpit.

"You can't guarantee anything about an aeroplane," said Tom. "But

everything is in our favor, and if we do have to come down I have a

better landing field than this." He glanced over the meadow near the

wayside inn.

"I suppose I'll have to take a chance," said Mary.

However, neither of them need have worried, for the Scud tried,

evidently, to redeem herself, and flew back to Shopton without a hitch.

After making sure that his engine was running smoothly, Tom found his

mind more at ease, and again he caught himself casting about to find

some basis for his suspicious thoughts regarding the two men who had

talked behind the screen.

"What is their game?" Tom found himself asking himself over and over

again. "What did they 'put over' on poor Baxter?"

Tom had a chance to find out more about this, or at least start on the

trail sooner than he expected. For when he landed he saw Koku, the

giant, coming toward him with an appearance of excitement.

"Is Rad worse? Is there more trouble with his eyes?" asked the young

inventor.

"No, him not much too bad," answered Koku. "I keep him good as I can.

He sleep now, so I come out to swallow some fresh air. But man come to

see you--much mad man."

"Mad?" queried Tom.

"Well, what you say--angry," went on Koku. "Man what was in Roman

Skycracker blaze."

"Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter, who was in the fireworks blaze," translated

Tom. "Where is he, and what's the matter?"

CHAPTER X

ANOTHER ATTEMPT

Koku managed to make Tom understand that the dye inventor was in the

main office of the Swift plant talking to Tom's father. The young

inventor sent Mary home in his electric runabout in company with Ned

Newton, who, fortunately, happened along just then, and hurried to his

office.

"Oh, Tom, I'm glad you have arrived," said his father. "You remember

Mr. Baxter, of course."

"I should hope so," Tom answered, extending his hand. He noticed that

the man whom he had helped save from the fireworks blaze was under the

stress of some excitement.

"I hope he hasn't been getting on dad's nerves," thought Tom, as he

took a seat. The elder Mr. Swift had been quite ill, and it was thought

for a time that he would have to give up helping Tom. But there had

been a turn for the better, and the aged inventor had again taken his

place in the laboratory, though he was frail.

"What's the trouble now?" asked Tom. "At least I assume there has been

some trouble," he went on. "If I am wrong--"

"No, you are right, unfortunately," said Mr. Baxter gloomily. "The

trouble is that everything I do is a failure. Up to a little while ago

I thought I might succeed, in spite of Field and Melling's theft of the

formulae from me. I made a purple dye the other day, and tested it

today. It was a miserable failure, and it got on my nerves. I came to

see if you could help me."

"In what way?" asked Tom, wondering whether or not he had best tell Mr.

Baxter what he had overheard at the Inn.

"Well, I need better laboratory facilities," the man went on. "I know

you have been very kind to me, Mr. Swift, and it seems like an

imposition to ask for more. But I need a different lot of chemicals,

and they cost money. I also need some different apparatus. You have it

in your big laboratory. That wouldn't cost you anything. But of course

to go out and buy what I need--"

"Oh I guess we can stand that, can't we, Dad?" asked Tom, with a genial

smile. "You may have free access to our big laboratory, Mr. Baxter, and

I'll see that you get what chemicals you need."

"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed the inventor. "Now I believe I shall succeed

in spite of those rascals. Just think, Mr. Swift! They have started a

big new dye factory."

"So I have heard," replied Tom.

"And I'm almost sure they're using the secret formulae they stole from

me!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter. "But I'll get the best of them yet! I'll

invent a better dye than they ever can, even if they use the secrets

the old Frenchman gave me. All I need is a better place to work and all

the chemicals at my disposal."

"Then we'll try to help you," offered Tom.

"And if I can do anything let me know," put in Mr. Swift. "I shall be

glad to get in the harness again, Tom!" he added.

"Well, if you're so anxious to work, Dad, why not give me a hand with

my fire extinguisher chemical?" asked Tom. "I haven't been able to hit

on the solution, somehow or other."

"Perhaps I may be able to give you a hint or two after I get settled

down," suggested Mr. Baxter.

"I shall be glad of any assistance you can give," replied Tom Swift.

"And now I'm going to start right in. Dad, you can make the

arrangements for Mr. Baxter to use our big laboratory. And let him have

credit for any chemicals he needs. Have them put on my bill, for I am

buying a lot myself."

"I'll never forget this," said Mr. Baxter, and there were tears in his

eyes as he shook hands with Tom, who tried to make light of his

generous act.

Tom, after the wrecking of his laboratory, in which accident poor

Eradicate was injured, had built himself another--two others, in fact,

after having shared Mr. Baxter's temporary one for a time. Tom put up

the most completely equipped laboratory that could be devised, and he

also erected a smaller one for his own personal use, the main one being

at the disposal of his father and the various heads of the different

departments of the Shopton plant.

The little conference broke up, and Tom was on his way to his own

special private laboratory when there came the sound of some excitement

in the corridor outside and Mr. Damon burst in.

"Bless my accident policy, Tom! what's this I hear?" he asked, all in a

fluster.

"I'm sure I don't know," answered the young inventor, with a smile.

"What about?"

"About you and Mary Nestor being killed!" burst out Mr. Damon. "I

heard you fell in the aeroplane and were both dashed to pieces!"

"If you can believe the evidence of your own eyes, I'm far from being

in that state," laughed Tom. "And as for Mary, she just left here with

Ned Newton."

"Thank goodness!" sighed Mr. Damon, sinking into a chair. "Bless my

elevator! I rushed over as soon as I heard the news, and I was almost

afraid to come in. I'm so glad it didn't happen!"

"No gladder than I," said Tom. "We had to make a forced landing, that

was all," and he made as light of the incident as possible when he saw

the look of terror in his father's eyes.

"Some people in Waterford saw you going down," went on Mr. Damon, "and

they told me."

"It was a false alarm," replied Tom. "And now, Mr. Damon, if you want

to smell some perfumes come with me."

"Are you going into that line, Tom?" asked the eccentric man. "Bless

my handkerchief, my wife will be glad of that!"

"I mean I'm going to experiment some more with fire-extinguishing

chemicals," laughed the young inventor. "If you want to--"

"Bless my gas mask, I should say not!" cried Mr. Damon. "I don't see

how you stand those odors, Tom Swift."

"Guess I'm used to 'em," was the answer. And then, leaving his father

to entertain Mr. Damon and to make arrangements for Mr. Baxter's use of

the main laboratory, he betook himself to his own private quarters.

The next week or so was a busy time for Tom; so busy, in fact, that he

had little chance to see Mr. Baxter. All he knew was that the

unfortunate man was also laboring in his own line, and Tom wished him

success. He knew that if the man made any discoveries that would help

with the fire-extinguishing fluid he would report, as he had promised.

"Well, Tom, how goes it?" asked Ned one day when he came over to call

on his chum. "Are you ready to accept contracts for putting out

skyscraper blazes in all big cities?"

"Not yet," was the answer. "But I'm going to make another attempt, Ned."

"You mean another experiment?"

"Yes, I have evolved a new combination of chemicals, using something of

the carbonate idea as a basis. I found that I couldn't get away from

that, much as I wanted to. But my application is entirely new, at least

I hope it will prove so."

"When are you going to try it?" asked Ned.

"Right away. All I have to do is to put the chemicals in the metal

tank."

"Then I'd better get my leather suit on," remarked Ned, starting to

take off his street coat. Tom kept for his chum a full outfit of flying

garments, one suit being electrically heated.

"Oh, we aren't going up in any airship," Tom said.

"Why, I thought you were going to test your aerial fire fighting

dingus!" exclaimed Ned.

"So I am. But I want to stay on the ground and watch the effect on the

blaze as the tank bursts and scatters the chemical fluid."

"Then you want me, and perhaps Mr. Damon to take the stuff up in the

machine? Excuse me. I don't believe I care to run an airship myself."

"No," went on Tom, "there isn't any question of an airship this time.

No one is going up. Come on out into the yard and I'll show you."

Ned Newton followed his chum out into the big yard near one of the

shops. Erected in it, and evidently a new structure, was a large wooden

scaffold in square tower shape with a long overhanging arm and a

platform on the extremity. Beneath it was a pit dug in the earth, and

in this pit, which was directly under the outstanding arm of the tower,

was a pile of wood and shavings, oil-soaked.

"Oh, I see the game," remarked Ned. "You're going to drop the stuff

from this height instead of doing it from an airship."

"Yes," Tom answered. "There will be time enough to go on with the

airship end of it after I get the right combination of chemicals. And

by having a metal container with the stuff in dropped from this frame

work, I can station myself as near the burning pit as I can get and

watch what happens."

"It's a good idea," decided Ned. "I wonder you didn't try that before."

"Mr. Baxter suggested it," replied Tom. "That helpful idea more than

pays me for what I have done for him. So now, if you're ready, I'd like

to have you watch with me and make some notes, one of us on one side of

the pit, and one on the other. There are always two sides to a fire,

the leeward and the windward, and I want to see how my chemicals act in

both positions."

"I'm with you," said Ned. "Who's going to drop the stuff--Koku?"

"No, he is a bit too heavy for the framework, which I had put up in a

hurry. I'd have Rad do it, but he's out of the game."

"Poor old Rad!" murmured Ned. "Do you think he'll ever get better, Tom?"

"I don't know," sighed the young inventor. "All I can do is to hope. He

is very patient, and Koku is devoted to him. All their little

bickerings and squabbles seem to have been forgotten."

Tom called some of his workmen, some of them to start the blaze of

inflammable material in the pit, while one climbed up to the top of the

tower of scantlings and made his way out on the extended arm, where

there was a little platform for him to stand until it was time to drop

the chemicals.

"Light her up!" cried Tom Swift, and a match was thrown in among the

oiled wood. In an instant a fierce blaze shot up, as hot, in

proportion, as would come from any burning building.

For the second time Tom was about to make a test on a fairly large

scale of his experimental extinguisher mixture.

"All ready up there?" he called to his helper perched high in the air.

"All ready!" came back the answer above the roar and crackle of the

flames that made Tom and Ned step back.

Would success or failure attend the young inventor's project?

CHAPTER XI

THE BLAZING TREE

Tom Swift hesitated a moment before giving the final word that would

send the metal container of powerful chemicals down into the midst of

the crackling flames. He wanted to make sure, in his own mind, that he

had done everything possible to insure the success of his undertaking.

The young inventor never attempted the solution of any problem without

going into it with his whole energy. So he wanted this experiment to

succeed.

He quickly reviewed, mentally, the composition of the chemical

compound. He had made it as strong as possible, and he had spared no

pains to insure a hot fire, so that the test would not be too simple.

"What's the matter, Tom?" asked Ned, as his chum appeared to hesitate

about giving the word that would send the chemicals hurtling down into

the fire.

"Nothing. I was just making sure I hadn't forgotten anything," Tom

answered. "I guess I haven't."

He paused a moment, looked up at his assistant on the overhanging arm

of the tower, glanced down at the flames, now at their height, and then

suddenly cried:

"Let her go!"

"Right!" came back the man's voice, and then a dark object, like a

bomb, was seen descending from the skeleton framework above the flames.

There was a scattering of the fire in the pit as the extinguisher bomb

fell among the blazing embers. Then followed a slight explosion when

the bomb broke, as it was intended it should.

Tom and Ned leaned forward to peer through the pall of smoke which

swirled this way and that. Here was to come the real test of the

device. Would the fumes of the liberated chemicals choke the fire, or

would it burn on in spite of them? That was the question to be settled

for Tom Swift.

Almost immediately he had his answer. For after a fierce burst of the

tongues of fire following the fall of the bomb, there was a distinct

dying down of the conflagration in the pit. Great clouds of smoke

arose, but the fire was quenched in a great measure, and as the

fire-blanketing gas continued to be generated from the chemicals

liberated from the bomb, there was a further dying down of the

crackling fire.

"Tom, you've struck it!" yelled Ned in delight. "You have the right

combination this time!"

Tom did not answer. He leaned forward and looked eagerly down into the

pit. He was about to join with Ned in agreeing that he had, indeed,

solved the problem, when, to his surprise, the flames started up again.

"What's this?" asked the young financial manager. "Are you going to

have a second test, Tom?"

"Not that I know of," was the puzzled answer. "I don't exactly

understand this myself, Ned. By all calculations this fire ought to

have died a natural death, but now it is breaking out again. I think

what must have happened is that a quantity of the oil they poured on

collected in a pool and didn't get all the effects of the chemicals

from the bomb. Then the oil started to blaze."

"What can you do about it?" Ned wanted to know.

"Oh, I've got another bomb up there," and Tom pointed to his helper who

was still perched on the overhanging arm. "I was prepared for some such

emergency as this. Drop the other one!" Tom yelled, and again a dark

object fell, bursting in the pit and again liberating the gas that was

supposed to choke any fire.

The flames that had started up for the second time instantly died down,

and Ned, leaning over the edge of the pit, cried:

"Hurray, Tom! That does the business!" But the young inventor shook his

head. "I'm not quite satisfied," he remarked. "It didn't work quickly

enough. What I want is a chemical combination that will choke the fire

off first shot."

"Well, you pretty nearly have it," observed Ned.

"Yes. But 'good enough' isn't what I want," Tom said. "I've got to work

on that chemical compound again. I think I know where I can improve it."

"Well, if I were a fire, and I had this happen to me," remarked Ned,

laughing and pointing to the heap of blackened embers in the pit, "I

should feel very much discouraged."

"But not enough," declared Tom. "I want the fire to be out more quickly

than this one was. I think I can improve that chemical compound, and

I'm going to do it."

"All right! Come on down!" he called to his helper, who was still

perched on the overhanging arm. "We won't do any more today."

"What is your next move?" asked Ned, as Tom started for his small,

private laboratory.

"Oh, I'm going to fiddle around among those sweet-smelling chemicals,"

answered the young inventor.

"Bless my vest buttons! then I'm not coming in, exclaimed a voice which

could proceed from none other than Mr. Damon. And he it proved to be.

He had driven over from Waterford in his automobile and had arrived

just as the fire test was concluded.

"Oh, come on in!" called Tom. "You can visit with dad, and Eradicate

will be glad to see you."

"Poor Rad! How is he?" asked Mr. Damon, walking along with Tom and Ned.

"No change," was the sad answer of the young inventor, for he felt

responsible for the mishap to the colored man. "They can't operate on

his eyes yet."

"And when they do will he be able to see?" asked Mr. Damon.

"That is what we are all hoping," answered Tom with a sigh. "But do go

in to see him, Mr. Damon. It will cheer him up."

"I will," promised the eccentric man. "At any rate I'll not venture

near your perfume shop, Tom Swift!"

"And I don't see that I can be of any service," added Ned, "so I'm off

to my work."

"All right," assented Tom. "I've got several new schemes to try. Some

of them ought to work."

Tom Swift was very busy for the next few days--so busy, in fact, that

even Mary saw little of him. He was closeted with Mr. Baxter more than

once, and that individual seemed to lose some of his bitter feelings

over the loss of his formulae as he found he could be of service to the

young inventor. For he was of service in suggesting new ways of

combining fire-fighting chemicals, gained by his association with the

fireworks concern.

"And that's about all the benefit I derived from being with those

scoundrels, Field and Melling," said Mr. Baxter gloomily.

"You still think they took your dye formulae?" asked Tom.

"I'm positive of it, but I can't prove anything. They threatened to get

the best of me when I would not sell them, for a ridiculously low sum,

an interest in the secrets. And I believe they did get the best of me

during that fire."

"I believe the same!" exclaimed Tom.

"How is that? What do you know? Can you help me prove anything against

them?" eagerly asked the chemist.

"Well, I don't know," answered Tom slowly. "I'll tell you what I heard."

Thereupon he related the conversation he had overheard while with Mary

at the wayside inn. The eyes of Josephus Baxter gleamed as he listened

to this recital.

"So that was their game!" he cried, as he smote the table with his

fist, thereby nearly upsetting a test tube of acid, which Tom caught

just in time. "I knew something crooked was going on, and they thought

I'd be so badly overcome in the fire that I wouldn't know, or wouldn't

remember, what happened."

"What did happen?" asked Tom. "All I know is that you were overcome in

the laboratory room."

"It's too long a story to tell in detail now," said Mr. Baxter. "But

the main facts are that through misrepresentations I was induced to

associate myself with Field and Melling. They had a good factory for

the making of fireworks, and some of the chemicals used in that

industry also enter into the manufacture of the kind of dyes I have in

mind to make. So I associated myself with them, they agreeing to let me

use their laboratory.

"One night they came to see me as I was working there over my formulae.

They pretended to have discovered something in an expired patent that

nullified what I had. I did not believe this to be so, and I brought

out my formulae to compare with theirs--or what they said they had. The

next thing I remember was that the fire broke out and my formulae

disappeared. Then I was overcome, and I did not care what happened to

me, for, having lost the valuable dye formulae, I did not think life

worth living.

"Perhaps I was foolish," said Mr. Baxter, "but I had tried so many

things and failed, and I counted so much on these formulae that it

seemed as if the bottom dropped out of everything when I lost them."

"I know," said Tom sympathetically. "I've been in the same boat myself.

But are you sure they took the papers which meant so much to you?"

"I don't see who else could," answered the chemist. "The papers were in

a tin box on the table in the room where I was overcome by fire gases,

or where, perhaps, they drugged me. I am not clear on this point. And

afterward the tin box could not be found. There wasn't enough fire in

that room to have melted it."

"No," agreed Tom, "it was mostly smoke in there, and smoke won't melt

tin. Nor did I see any box on the table when we carried you out."

"Then the only other surmise is that Field and Melling got away with my

formulae during the excitement and when I was half unconscious," Went

on Mr. Baxter bitterly. "But you can see how foolish I would be to

accuse them in court. I haven't a bit of proof."

"Not much, for a fact," agreed Tom. "Well, with what I heard and what

you tell me, perhaps we can work up a case against them later. I'll go

over it with Ned. He has a better head for business than I."

"Yes, we inventors need some business brains; or at least the time to

give to business problems," agreed the chemist. "But enough of my

troubles. Let's get at this chemical compound of yours."

Tom and Mr. Baxter spent many days and nights perfecting the

fire-extinguisher chemical, and, after repeated tests, Tom felt that he

was nearer his goal.

One afternoon Ned called, and Tom invited him to go for a ride in a

small but speedy aeroplane.

"Anything special on?" asked the young manager.

"In a way, yes," Tom answered. "I'm having a firm in Newmarket make me

some different containers, and they have promised me samples today. I

thought I'd take a fly over and get them. I have the chemical compound

all but perfected now, and I want to give it another test."

"All right, I'm with you," assented Ned. "Newmarket," he added

musingly. "Isn't that where Field and Melling are now?"

"Yes. They have a factory on the outskirts of the place, and their

offices are in the Landmark Building. But we aren't going to see them,

though we may call on them later, when you have that case better worked

up." For Ned's services had been enlisted to aid Mr. Baxter.

"I shall need a little more time," remarked Ned. "But I think we can at

least bluff them into playing into our hands. I have a report to hear

from a private detective I have hired."

"I hope we can do something to aid Baxter," remarked Tom. "He has done

me good service in this chemical fire extinguisher matter."

A little later Tom and Ned were speeding through the air on their way

to Newmarket. The rapid flier was making good time at not a great

height when Ned, leaning forward, appeared to be gazing at something in

the near distance.

"What's the matter?" asked Tom, for he had his silencer on this craft

and it was possible for the occupants to converse. "Do you hear one of

the cylinders missing, Ned?"

"No. But what's that smoke down there?" and Ned pointed. "It looks like

a fire!"

"It is a fire!" exclaimed Tom, as he took an observation. "Not a big

one, but a fire, just the same. If only--"

He did not finish what he started to say, but changed the direction of

his air craft and headed directly toward a pall of smoke about a mile

away.

In a few seconds they were near enough to make out the character of the

blaze.

"Look, Tom!" cried Ned. "It's an immense tree on fire!"

"A tree!" exclaimed Tom, half incredulously, for he was leaning forward

to look at one of the aeroplane gages and did not have a clear view of

what Ned was looking at.

"Yes, as sure as Mr. Damon would bless something if he were here! It's

a tree on fire up near the top!"

"That's strange!" murmured Tom. "But it may give me just the chance

I've been looking for."

Ned wondered at this remark on the part of his chum as the airship drew

nearer the blazing monarch in the patch of woods over which they were

then hovering.

CHAPTER XII

TOM IS LONESOME

"This is certainly the strangest sight I ever saw," remarked Ned, as he

and his chum flew nearer and nearer to the smoking and blazing tree.

"Is the world turning upside down, Tom, when fires start in this

fashion?"

"I fancy it can easily be explained," answered the young inventor.

"We'll go into that later. Here, Ned, grab hold of that tin can on the

floor and take out the screw plug."

"What's the idea?"

"I want you to drop it as nearly as you can right into the midst of the

tree that's on fire."

"Oh, I get your drift! Well, you can count on me."

Ned picked up from the floor of their aeroplane a metal can similar to

those Tom used to hold oil or perhaps spare gasoline when he was

experimenting on airship speed. The opening was closed with a screw

plug, with wings to afford an easier grip. As Ned unscrewed this his

nostrils were greeted by an odor that made him gasp.

"Don't mind a little thing like that," cried Tom. "Drop it down, Ned!

Drop it down! We're going to be right over the tree in another second

or two!"

Ned leaned over the side of the craft and had a good view of the

strange sight. The tree that was on fire was a dead oak of great size,

dwarfing the other trees in the grove in which it stood. In common with

other oaks this one still retained many of its dried leaves, though it

was devoid, or almost devoid, of life. Ned noticed in the branches many

irregularly shaped objects, and it appeared to be these that were on

fire, blazing fiercely.

"It looks as though some one had tied bundles of sticks in the tree and

set them on fire," Ned thought as he poised the opened tin of the

evil-smelling compound on the edge of the aeroplane's cockpit.

"Let her go, Ned!" cried Tom. "You'll be too late in another second!"

Ned raised himself in his seat and threw, rather than let fall, the can

straight for the blazing tree. Like a bomb it shot toward earth, and

Ned and Tom, looking down, could see it strike a limb and break open,

the rupture of the can letting loose the liquid contained in it.

And then, before the eyes of Tom and Ned, the fire seemed to die out as

a picture melts away on a moving picture screen. The smoke rolled away

in a ball-like cloud, and the flames ceased to crackle and roar.

"Well, for the love of molasses! what happened, Tom?" cried Ned, as the

young inventor guided his craft about in a big circle to come back

again over the tree. He wanted to make sure that the fire was out.

It was!

"What sent that blaze to the happy hunting grounds?" asked Ned.

"My new aerial extinguisher," answered Tom, with justifiable pride in

his voice. "This fire happened in the nick of time for me, Ned. I had a

tin of my new combination in the car, not with any intention of using

it, though. I intended to pour it in the new containers I am having

made in Newmarket to see if it would corrode them, a thing I wish to

avoid.

"But when I saw that tree on fire I couldn't resist the temptation to

use my very latest combination of chemicals. It is so recent that I

haven't actually tried it on a blaze yet, though I had figured out in

theory that it ought to work. And it did, Ned! It worked!"

"Well, I should say so!" agreed his chum. "That blaze was doused for

fair. The test could not have been better. But what in the name of a

volunteer fire department set that tree to blazing, Tom?"

"I'll tell you in a moment. I want to make some notes before I forget.

That combination seems to be just of the right strength. It did the

trick. Here, take the wheel and hold her steady while I jot down some

memoranda before they get away from me."

Ned was capable of managing an airship, especially under Tom's watchful

eye, and as this craft was one with dual controls there was no

difficulty in shifting from one steersman to the other.

So while Ned guided, now and then gazing down at the tree from which

some smoke still arose, though the fire was all out, Tom made the

necessary scientific notes for future amplification.

"And now," observed Ned, as his chum resumed the wheel, "suppose you

enlighten me on how that tree came to be on fire--if you didn't set it

yourself."

"No, I didn't do that," Tom said, with a laugh. "And I only have a

theory as to the cause of the blaze. But suppose we go down and take a

look. There's a good field around this grove, and we can get a fine

take off. I'll have to go back to Shopton anyhow, to get some more of

the chemical."

So the aeroplane made a landing, and then the mystery was explained.

The dead oak, to which some of its last year's foliage still clung, was

the abiding place of thousands of crows that had built their nests in

it. There were hundreds of the big nests, made of dried sticks, mostly,

and these made an ideal fuel for the fire.

"But where are the crows, and what started the fire?" asked Ned.

"I fancy the birds flew away as soon as they saw their homes on fire,"

said Tom. "Or they may not have been at home. Flocks of crows often go

to some distant feeding ground for the day, returning at night. I fancy

that is what happened here.

"As for the cause of the blaze, I believe it was set by some

mischievous boys, who saw a good chance to have some fun without

thought of doing any real damage. For the dead tree was of no value,

and I imagine the farmers would be glad to see the flock of crows

dispersed. Some boys probably climbed up and set fire to one of the

nests, and then, when they saw the whole lot going, they became

frightened and ran away."

And Tom's theory was, eventually, proved to be true. Some

lads, wandering afield, had set fire to the crows' nests and then,

frightened as they saw a bigger blaze than they intended, ran away.

Tom and Ned did not remain to see what the returning crows might think

about the destruction of their homes, provided they saw fit to return,

but, starting the aeroplane, were again on their way.

Tom had lingered long enough to make sure that his latest combination

of chemicals had been just what was needed. He felt sure that by using

a larger quantity, no fire, however fierce, could continue to blaze.

"But I want to give it a good trial, Ned, as we did from the tower,"

said Tom. "Though I don't believe there'll be a fizzle this time."

It did not take long for Tom to secure another supply of the new

chemical. He then went with it to the firm in Newmarket that was making

his containers, or "bombs" as he called them.

On his return he consulted with Mr. Baxter as to the ingredients of the

fluid that had put out the blaze in the tree.

"I believe you have at last hit on the right combination," said the

chemist. "You are on the road to success, Tom. I wish I could say the

same of myself."

"Perhaps your formulae may come back to you as suddenly as they

disappeared, or as quickly as I discovered that I had the right thing

to put out the fire," said Tom hopefully.

Busy days followed for the young inventor. Now that he was convinced he

had at last evolved the right mixture of chemicals, he prepared to make

a test on a larger scale than merely a blazing tree.

"I'll try it with a fire in the pit," he said to his chum.

Preparations were made, and the day before Tom was to carry out his

plans he received a letter.

"What's the matter? Bad news?" asked Ned, as he saw his friend's face

change after reading the epistle.

"Nothing much. Only Mary is going away, and I had expected her to be at

the test," Tom answered.

"Going away?" echoed Ned. "For long?"

"Oh, no, only for a couple of weeks. She is going to visit an uncle and

aunt in Newmarket, or just outside of that city. Another uncle, Barton

Keith, has offices in the Landmark Building, I believe."

"Landmark Building," murmured Ned. "Isn't that where Field and Melling

hang out?"

"Yes. But don't mention Mary's uncle in connection with them," laughed

Tom. "He wouldn't like it."

"I should say not!"

Ned well remembered Mary's uncle, who had been associated with Tom in

recovering the treasure in the undersea search.

"Well, if she can't be here, she can't," said Tom, as philosophically

as possible. "I'd better run over and bid her goodbye."

This Tom did, though Ned noticed that his chum acted as though lonesome

on his return.

"But when he gets to work testing his new chemical he'll be all right,"

decided Ned.

CHAPTER XIII

A SUCCESSFUL TEST

"It took you long enough," Ned remarked as Tom entered the main office

of the plant, having been to see Mary off on her trip to Newmarket.

This was following his call of the night before to learn more

particulars of her unexpected visit.

"Yes, I didn't plan to be gone so long," apologized Tom. "But I thought

while I was there I might as well go all the way with her."

"And did you?"

"Yes. In the electric runabout. I wanted to come back and get the

airship, but she said she wanted to look nice when she met her

relatives, and as yet airship travel is a bit mussy. Though when I get

my cabined cruiser of the clouds I'll guarantee not to ruffle a curl of

the daintiest girl!"

"Getting poetical in your old age!" laughed Ned. "Well, here is that

statement you said you wanted me to get ready. Want to go over it now?"

"No, I guess not, as long as you know it's all right. I'm going to

start right in and get ready for a bang-up test."

"Of what--your new aerial fire fighting apparatus?"

"Yes. Mr. Baxter and I are going to make up a lot of the chemical

compound that--we discovered through using it on the blazing tree--will

best do the trick. Then I'm going to try it on a pit fire, and after

that on a big blaze with an airship."

"Let me know when you do," begged Ned. "I want to see you do it."

"I'll send you word," promised the young inventor.

Then he began several days and nights of hard work. And he was glad to

have the chance to occupy himself, for, though Tom professed not to be

much affected by the departure of Mary Nestor, he really was very

lonesome.

"How is her uncle, Barton Keith, by the way?" asked Ned, when he called

on his chum one day, to find him reading a letter which needed but half

an eye to tell was from Mary.

"About as usual," was the answer. "He sends word by Mary that he'll be

glad to see us any time we want to call. He has some nice offices in

the Landmark Building."

"Those papers proving his right to the oil land, which you recovered

from the sunken ship for him, must have made his fortune."

"Well, yes--that and other things," agreed Tom. "Say, we had some

exciting times on that undersea search, didn't we?"

"Did you call on Mr. Keith when you went to Newmarket with Mary?" Ned

wanted to know, for he and Tom had taken quite a liking to Miss

Nestor's uncle.

"No, I didn't get a chance. Besides, I wanted to keep away from the

Landmark Building."

"Why?"

"Oh, I might run into Field and Melling, and I don't want to see them

until I can accuse them, and prove it, of having taken Mr. Baxter's dye

formulae."

"Oh, yes, they're in the same building with Mr. Keith, aren't they? Why

do they call it the Landmark? Though I suppose the answer is obvious."

"Yes," assented Tom. "It's a big building--the tallest ever erected in

that city, and a fine structure. Though while they were about it I

don't see why they didn't make it fireproof."

"Didn't they?" asked Ned, in surprise. "Then the insurance rates must

be unusually high, for the companies are beginning to realize how fire

departments, even in big cities, are hampered in fighting blazes above

the tenth or twelfth stories."

"Yes, it was a mistake not to have the Landmark Building fireproof,"

admitted Tom. "And Mr. Keith says the owners are beginning to realize

that now. It is what is called the 'slow burning' construction."

"Insurance companies don't go much on that," declared Ned, who was in a

position to know. "Well, let us hope it never catches fire."

These were busy days for the young inventor. He laid aside all his

other activities in order to perfect the plans for manufacturing his

new chemical fire extinguisher on a large scale. For Tom realized that

while a small quantity of chemicals in a compound might act in a

certain way on one occasion, if the bulk should happen to be increased

the experimenter could not always count on invariably the same results.

There appeared to be at times a change engendered when a large quantity

of chemicals were mixed which was not manifest in a small and

experimental batch.

So Tom wanted to mix up a big tank of his new chemical compound and see

if it would work in large quantities as well as it did with the small

amount Ned had dropped on the blazing tree.

To this end Tom worked at night, as well as by day, and finally he

announced to Ned and Mr. Damon, who called one evening, that he

believed he had everything in readiness for an exhaustive test the next

day.

"There's the stuff!" exclaimed Tom, not a little proudly, as he waved

his hand toward an immense carboy in the main shop. "That's what I hope

will do the trick. Just take a--"

"Hold on! Stop! That's enough! Bless my hair brush!" cried Mr. Damon,

holding up a protesting hand. "If you take that cork out, Tom Swift,

you and I will cease to be friends!"

"I wasn't going to open it," laughed the young inventor. "It has a

worse odor and seems to choke you more in a big quantity than when

there's only a little. I was just going to shake the carboy to let you

realize how full it was."

"We'll take your word for it!" laughed Ned. "Now about your test. How

are you going to work it?"

"There are to be two tests," answered Tom. "The first, and the smaller,

will be in the pit, as before, only this time we shall have what, I

believe, will be the successful combination of chemicals to drop on it.

"The second test will be the main one. In that I plan to have an old

barn which I have bought set ablaze. Then Ned and I will sail over it

in the airship and drop chemicals on it. The barn will be filled with

empty boxes and barrels, to make as hot a fire as possible. You are

invited to accompany us, Mr. Damon."

"Will there be any smell?" asked the eccentric man, who seemed to have

a dislike for anything that was not as agreeable as perfume.

"No, the chemicals will be sealed in containers, which will be dropped

from my airship as bombs were dropped in the war," said Tom.

"On those conditions I'll go along," agreed Mr. Damon. "But bless my

wedding certificate, Tom! don't tell my wife. She thinks I'm crazy

enough now, associating with you and flying occasionally. If she

thought I would help you battle with flames from the air she'd likely

never speak to me again."

"I'll not tell," promised Tom, laughing.

Preparations for the test went on rapidly. In the morning a fire was to

be started in the same pit where the experiment had partly failed

before.

From the platform over the blazing hole some of the new combination of

chemicals was to be dropped. If it acted with success, as Tom believed

it would, he proposed to go on with the more important test in the

afternoon.

To this end he had purchased from a farmer the right to set on fire an

old ramshackle barn, standing in the midst of a field about three miles

outside of Shopton. The barn was on an untilled farm, the house having

been destroyed some years before, and it was not near any other

structures, so that, even in a high wind, no damage would result.

Tom had filled the barn with inflammable material, and was going to

spare no effort to have the test as exhaustive as possible.

The time came for the preliminary trial, and there were a few anxious

moments after the oil-soaked boards and boxes in the pit were set

ablaze.

"Let her go!" cried Tom to his man on the elevated platform, and down

fell the container of chemicals. It had no sooner struck and burst,

letting loose a mass of flame-choking vapor, than the fire died out.

"You've struck it, Tom! You've struck it!" cried Ned.

"It begins to look so," agreed the young inventor. "But I'll not call

myself out of the woods until this afternoon. Though we can consider it

a success so far."

Quite a throng was on hand when the old barn was set ablaze. Tom and

Ned and Mr. Damon were there with the airship which had been especially

fitted to carry the bombs filled with the extinguisher.

In order to insure a quick, hot blaze the barn was fired on all four

sides at once by Tom's men. When it was seen to be a veritable raging

furnace of fire, Tom and his two friends took their places in the

airship and rapidly mounted upward.

Necessarily they had to circle off away from the blaze to get to the

necessary height, but Tom soon brought the airship around again and

headed for the black pall of smoke which marked the place of the

blazing barn.

"We'll all three send down bombs at the same time," Tom told his

friends, as they darted forward. "When I give the word press the

levers, and the chemical containers will drop. Then we'll hope for the

best."

Higher mounted the flames, and more fiercely raged the fire. The heat

of it penetrated even aloft, where Tom and his friends were scudding

along in the airship.

"Now!" cried Tom, as his craft hovered for an instant in a favorable

position for dropping the bombs. The young inventor, Mr. Damon, and Ned

Newton pressed the levers. Looking over the sides of the craft, they

saw three dark objects dropping into the midst of the burning barn.

CHAPTER XIV

OUT OF THE CLOUDS

Almost as though some giant hand had dropped an immense cloak over the

fire in the barn, so did the blaze die down instantly after Tom Swift's

extinguishing liquid had been dropped into the seething caldron of

flame. For a moment there was even no smoke, but as the embers remained

hot and glowing for a time, though the flames themselves were quenched,

a rolling vapor cloud began to ascend shortly after the first cessation

of the fire. But this only lasted a little while.

"You've turned the trick, Tom!" cried Ned, leaning far over to look at

what was left of the barn and its contents.

"Bless my insurance policy, I should say so!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "It

was certainly neat work, Tom!"

"It does look as if I'd struck the right combination," admitted Tom,

and he felt justifiable pride in his achievement.

"Look so! Why, hang it all, man, it is so!" declared Ned. "That fire

went out as if sent for by a special delivery telegram to give a

hurry-up performance in another locality. Look, there's hardly any

smoke even!"

This was so, as the three occupants of the rapidly moving airship could

see when Tom circled back to pass again over the almost destroyed

structure. He had waited until it was almost consumed before dropping

his chemicals, as he wished to make the test hard and conclusive. Now

the fire was out except for a few small spots spouting up here and

there, away from the center of the blaze.

"Yes, I guess she doesn't need a second dose," observed Tom, when he

saw how effective had been his treatment of the fire. "I had an

additional batch of chemicals on hand, in case they were needed," he

added, and he tapped some unused bombs at his feet.

"I call this a pretty satisfactory test," declared Ned. "If you want to

form a stock company, Tom, and put your aerial fire-fighting apparatus

on the market, I'll guarantee to underwrite the securities."

"Hardly that yet," said Tom, with a laugh. "Now that I have my chemical

combination perfected, or practically so, I've got to rig up an airship

that will be especially adapted for fighting fires in sky-scrapers."

"What more do you want than this?" asked Ned, as his chum prepared to

descend in the speedy machine.

"I want a little better bomb-releasing device, for one thing. This

worked all right. But I want one that is more nearly automatic. Then I

am going to put on a searchlight, so I can see where I am heading at

night."

"Not your great big one!" cried Ned, recalling the immense electric

lantern that had so aided in capturing the Canadian smugglers.

"No. But one patterned after that." Tom answered.

"Bless my candlestick!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, "what do you want with a

searchlight at a fire, Tom? Isn't there light enough at a blaze,

anyhow?"

"No," answered the young inventor, as he made his usual skillful

landing. "You know all the big city fire departments have searchlights

now for night work and where there is thick smoke. It may be that some

day, in fighting a sky-scraper blaze from the clouds at night, I'll

have need of more illumination than comes from the flames themselves."

"Well, you ought to know. You've made a study of it," said Mr. Damon,

as he and Ned alighted with Tom, the latter receiving congratulations

from a number of his friends, including members of the Shopton fire

department who were present to witness the test.

"Mighty clever piece of work, Tom Swift!" declared a deputy chief. "Of

course we won't have much use for any such apparatus here in Shopton,

as we haven't any big buildings. But in New York, Chicago, Pittsburgh

and other cities--why, it will be just what they need, to my way of

thinking."

"And he needn't go so far from home," said Mr. Damon. "There is one

tall building over in Newmarket--the Landmark. I happen to own a little

stock in the corporation that put that up, along with other buildings,

and I'm going to have them adopt Tom Swift's aerial fire-fighting

apparatus."

"Thank you. But you don't need to go to that trouble," asserted Tom.

"My idea isn't to have every sky-scraper equipped with an airship

extinguisher."

"No? What then?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Well, I think there ought to be one, or perhaps two, in a big city

like New York," Tom answered. "Perhaps one outfit would be enough, for

it isn't likely that there would be two big fires in the tall building

section at the same time, and an airship could easily cover the

distance between two widely separated blazes. But if I can perfect

this machine so it will be available for fires out of the reach of

apparatus on the ground, I'll be satisfied."

"You'll do it, Tom, don't worry about that!" declared the deputy chief.

"I never saw a slicker piece of work than this!"

And that was the verdict of all who had witnessed the performance.

With the successful completion of this exacting test and the

knowledge that he had perfected the major part of his aerial

fire-extinguisher--the chemical combination--Tom Swift was now able to

devote his attention to the "frills" as Ned called them. That is, he

could work out a scheme for attaching a searchlight to his airship and

make better arrangements for a one-man control in releasing the

chemical containers into the heart of a big blaze.

Tom Swift owned several airships, and he finally selected one of not

too great size, but very powerful, that would hold three and, if

necessary, four persons. This was rebuilt to enable a considerable

quantity of the fire-extinguishing liquid to be stored in the under

part of the somewhat limited cockpit.

This much done, and while his men were making up a quantity of the

extinguisher, using the secret formula, and storing it in suitable

containers, Tom began attaching a searchlight to his "cloud

fire-engine," as Koku called it.

The giant was aching to be with Tom and help in the new work, but Koku

was faithful to the blinded Eradicate, and remained almost constantly

with the old colored man.

It was touching to see the two together, the giant trying, in his kind,

but imperfect way, to anticipate the wishes of the other, with whom he

had so often disputed and quarreled in days past. Now all that was

forgotten, and Koku gave up being with Tom to wait on Eradicate.

While the colored man was, in fact, unable to see, following the

accident when Tom was experimenting with the fire extinguisher, it was

hoped that sight might be restored to one eye after an operation. This

operation had to be postponed until the eyes and wounds in the face

were sufficiently healed.

Meanwhile Rad suffered as patiently as possible, and Koku shared his

loneliness in the sick room. Tom came to see Rad as often as he could,

and did everything possible to make his aged servant's lot happier. But

Rad wanted to be up and about, and it was pathetic to hear him ask

about the little tasks he had been wont to perform in the past.

Rad was delighted to hear of Tom's success with the new apparatus,

after having been told how quickly the barn fire was put out.

"Yo'--yo' jest wait twell I gits up, Massa Tom," said Rad. "Den Ah'll

help make all de contraptions on de airship."

"All right, Rad, there'll be plenty for you to do when the time comes,"

said the inventor. And he could not help a feeling of sadness as he

left the colored man's room.

"I wonder if he is doomed to be blind the rest of his life," thought

Tom. "I hope not, for if he does it will be my fault for letting him

try to mix those chemicals."

But, hoping for the best, Tom plunged into the work ahead of him. He

did not want to offer his aerial fire extinguisher to any large city

until he had perfected it, and he was now laboring to that end.

One day, in midsummer, after weary days of toil, Tom took Ned out for a

ride in the machine which had been fitted up to carry a large supply of

the chemical mixture, a small but powerful searchlight, and other new

"wrinkles" as Tom called them, not going into details.

"Any special object in view?" asked Ned, as Tom headed across country.

"Are you going to put out any more tree fires?"

"No, I haven't that in mind," was the answer. "Though of course if we

come across a blaze, except a brush fire, I may put it out. I have the

bombs here," and Tom indicated the releasing lever.

"What I want to try now is the stability of this with all I have on

board," he resumed. "If she is able to travel along, and behave as well

as she did before I made the changes, I'll know she is going to be all

right. I don't expect to put out any fires this trip."

In testing the ship of the air Tom sent her up to a good height,

heading out over the open country and toward a lake on the shores of

which were a number of summer resorts. It was now the middle of the

season, and many campers, cottagers and hotel folk were scattered about

the wooded shore of the pretty and attractive body of water.

Tom and Ned had a glimpse of the lake, dotted with many motor boats and

other craft, as the airship ascended until it was above the clouds.

Then, for a time, nothing could be seen by the occupants but masses of

feathery vapor.

"She's working all right," decided Tom, when he found that he could

perform his usual aerial feats with his craft, laden as she was with

apparatus, as well as he had been able to do before she was so

burdened. "Guess we might as well go down, Ned. There isn't much more

to do, as far as I can see."

Down out of the heights they swept at a rapid pace. A few moments later

they had burst through the film of clouds and once more the lake was

below them in clear view.

Suddenly Ned pointed to something on the water and cried:

"Look, Tom! Look! A motor boat in some kind of trouble! She's sinking!"

CHAPTER XV

COALS OF FIRE

Tom Swift saw the craft almost as soon as did his chum. It was rather a

large-sized motor boat, quite some distance out from shore, and there

was no other craft near it at this time. From the quick, first view Tom

and Ned had of it, they decided that a party of excursionists were on a

pleasure trip.

But that an accident had happened, and that trouble, if not, indeed,

danger, was imminent, was at once apparent to the young inventor and

the other occupant of the swiftly moving airship.

For as Tom shut off his motor, to volplane down, thus reducing all

noise on his craft, they could dimly hear the shouts and calls for

help, coming from the water craft below them.

"Help! Help!" came the impassioned appeals, floating up to Tom and Ned.

"We're coming!" Tom answered, though it is doubtful if his voice was

heard. Sound does not seem to carry downward as well as upward, and

though Tom's craft was making scarcely any noise, save that caused by

the rush of wind through the struts and wires, there was so much

confusion on the motor boat, to say nothing of the engine which was

going, that Tom's encouraging call must have been unheard.

"What are you going to do, Tom?" asked Ned, "You can't land on the

water!"

"I know it; worse luck! If I only had the hydroplane, now, we could

make a thrilling rescue--land right beside the other boat and take 'em

all off. But, as it is, I'll have to land as near as I can and then we

will look for a boat to go out to them in."

Ned saw, now, what Tom's object was. On one shore of the lake was a

large, level field, suitable for a landing place for the craft of the

air. At least it looked to be a suitable place, but Tom would be

obliged to take a chance on that. This field sloped down to the beach

of the lake, and as Ned and his chum came nearer to earth they could

see several boats on shore, though no persons were near them. Had there

been, probably they would have gone to the rescue.

Tom cast a rapid look across the sheet of water, to make sure his

services were really needed. The motor boat was lower in the lake now,

and was, undoubtedly, sinking. And no other craft was near enough to

render help. Though distant whistles, seeming to come from approaching

craft, told of help on the way.

"Hold fast, Ned!" cried Tom, as they neared the earth. "We may bump!"

But Tom Swift was too skillful a pilot to cause his craft to sustain

much of a crash. He made an almost perfect "three point landing," and

there would have been no unusual shaking, except for the fact that the

field was a bit bumpy, and the craft more heavily laden than usual.

"Good work, Tom!" cried Ned, as the Lucifer slackened her speed, the

young inventor having sent her around in a half circle so that she now

faced the lake. Then Tom and Ned climbed from the cockpit, throwing off

goggles and helmets as they ran to the shore where there were several

rowboats moored.

"And a little old-fashioned naphtha launch! By all that's lucky!" cried

Tom. "I didn't think they made these any more. If she only works now!"

There was a little dock at this point on the lake, and the boats

appeared to be held at it for hire. But no one was in charge, and Tom

and Ned made free with what they found. They considered they had this

right in the emergency.

The naphtha launch was chained and padlocked to the dock, but using an

oar Tom burst the chain.

"Get one of the rowboats and fasten it to the back of the launch!" Tom

directed Ned. "I don't believe this craft will hold them all," and he

nodded toward those aboard the sinking boat--for it was only too

plainly sinking now.

"All right!" voiced Ned. "I'm with you. Can you get that engine to

work?"

"She's humming now," announced Tom, as he turned on the naphtha, and

threw in a blazing match to ignite it, this act saving his hand.

Naphtha engines are a trifle treacherous.

A few moments later, though not as quickly as a gasoline craft could

have been gotten under way, Tom was steering the small launch out and

away from the dock, and toward the craft whence came the faint calls

for help. Behind them Tom and Ned towed a large rowboat.

Tom speeded the naphtha craft to its limit, and, fortunately for those

in danger, it was a fast boat. In less time than they had thought

possible, the young inventor and his chum were near the boat that was

now low in the water--so low, in fact, that her rail was all but awash.

"Oh, take us out! Save us!" screamed some of the girls.

"Take it easy now," advised Tom, approaching with care. "We've got room

for you all. Ned, get back in the rowboat and bring that alongside--on

the other side. We'll take you all in," he added.

"Girls first!" called Ned sternly, as he saw one young fellow about to

scramble into the naphtha boat.

"Sure, girls first!" agreed the skipper of the disabled craft. "Hit a

submerged log," he explained to Tom, as the work of rescue proceeded.

"Stove a hole in the bow, but we stuffed coats and things in, and made

it a slow leak. Kept the engine going as long as we could, but I

thought no one would ever come! Lucky you happened to see us from up

there!"

"Yes," assented Tom shortly. He and Ned were too busy to talk much, as

they were aiding in getting some hysterical girls and young women into

the two sound craft. And when the last of the picnic party had been

taken off, the boat with a hole in it gave a sudden lurch, there was a

gurgling, bubbling sound, and she sank quickly.

Tom and Ned had anticipated this, however, and had their craft well out

of the way of the suction.

"You'll all have to sit quiet," Tom warned his passengers as he took

Ned's boat, with her load, in tow. "I've got about all the law allows

me to carry," he added grimly.

"Oh, what ever would we have done without you?" half sobbed one girl.

"I guess you could have managed to swim ashore," Tom answered, not

wanting to make too much of his effort.

Then more rescue boats came up, but those in the naphtha craft, and

Ned's smaller one, refused to be transferred, and remained with our

friends until safely landed at the dock.

Receiving the half-hysterical thanks of the party, and leaving them to

explain matters to the owner of the borrowed boats, Ned and Tom went

back to the Lucifer, and were soon aloft again.

"Pretty slick act, Tom," remarked Ned.

"Oh, it's all in the day's work," was the answer. He had all but

perfected his big fire-extinguishing aeroplane, and was contemplating

means by which he could give a demonstration to the fire department of

some big city, when Mr. Baxter asked to see Tom one day. There was a

look on the face of the chemist that caused Tom to exclaim with a good

deal of concern:

"What's the matter?"

"Only the same old trouble," was the discouraged answer. "I can't get

on the track of my lost secret formulae. If I had Field and Melling

here now I--I'd--"

He did not finish his threat, but the look on his face was enough to

show his righteous anger.

"I wish we could do something to those fellows!" exclaimed Tom

energetically. "If we only had some direct evidence against them!"

"I've got evidence enough--in my own mind!" declared Mr. Baxter.

"Unfortunately that doesn't do in law," returned Tom. "But now that I

have this airship firefighter craft so nearly finished, I can devote

more time to your troubles, Mr. Baxter."

"Oh, I don't want you bothered over my troubles," said the chemist.

"You have enough of your own. But I'm at my wit's end what to do next."

"If it is money matters," began Tom.

"It's partly that, yes," said the other, in a low voice. "If I had

those dye formulae, I'd be a rich man."

"Well, let me help you temporarily," begged Tom. And the upshot of the

talk was that he engaged Mr. Baxter to do certain research work in the

Swift laboratories until such time as the chemist could perfect certain

other inventions on which he was working.

In return for his kindness to a fellow laborer, Tom received from Mr.

Baxter some valuable hints about fire-extinguishing chemicals, one

hint, alone, serving to bring about a curious situation.

It was several days after the accident to the motor boat from which the

young inventor and Ned Newton had rescued the party of pleasure seekers

that Tom was visited by Mr. Damon, who drove over in his car.

"Have you anything special to do, Tom?" asked the eccentric man. "If

you haven't I wish you'd take a ride with me. Not for mere pleasure!

Bless my excursion ticket, don't think that, Tom!" cried his friend

quickly.

"I know better than to ask you out for a pleasure jaunt. But I have

become interested in a certain candy-making machine that a man over in

Newmarket is anxious to sell me a share in, and I'd like to get your

opinion. Can you run over?"

"Yes," Tom answered. "As it happens I am going to Newmarket myself."

"Oh, I forgot about Mary Nestor being there!" laughed Mr. Damon. "Sly

dog, Tom! Sly dog!" and he nudged the youth in the ribs.

"It isn't altogether Mary. Though I am going to see her," Tom admitted.

"It has to do with a little apparatus I am getting up. I can capture

several birds in the same auto, so I'll go along."

This pleased Mr. Damon, and he and Tom were soon speeding over the

road. It was just outside Newmarket that they saw an automobile stalled

at the foot of a hill which they topped. It needed but a glance to show

that there was serious trouble. As Mr. Damon's car went down the slope

two men could be seen leaping from the other machine. And, as they did

so, flames burst out of the rear of the stalled machine.

"Fire! Fire!" cried Mr. Damon, rather needlessly it would seem, as any

one could see the blaze.

"Another chance!" exclaimed Tom, reaching down between his feet for a

wrapped object he had placed in Mr. Damon's car. "It's Field and

Melling!" he cried. "The two men who boasted of having put it over on

Mr. Baxter. Their car is blazing. Here's where I get a chance to heap

coals of fire on their heads!"

CHAPTER XVI

VIOLENT THREATS

Tom Swift's companion in the automobile was sufficiently acquainted

with this old expression to understand readily what it meant. And as he

directed his car as close as was safe to the blazing car, Mr. Damon

asked:

"Are you going to put out that fire for them, Tom?"

"I'm going to try," was the grim answer.

The young inventor was rapidly taking out of wrapping paper a metal

cylinder with a short nozzle on one end and a handle on the other. It

was, obviously, a hand fire extinguisher of a type familiar to all.

"Wait Tom, I'll slow up a little more," said Mr. Damon, as he applied

the brakes with more force. "Bless my court plaster! don't jump and

injure yourself."

But Tom Swift was sufficiently agile to leap from the automobile when

it was still making good speed. He did not want Mr. Damon to approach

too close to the burning car, for there might be an explosion. At the

same time, he rather discounted the risk to himself, for he ran right

in, while the two men, who had leaped from the blazing machine, hurried

to a safe distance.

Tom held in readiness a small hand extinguisher. It was one he had

constructed from an old one found in the shop, but it contained some of

his own chemicals, the original solution having been used at some time

or other. It was the intention of the young inventor to put on the

market a house-size extinguisher after he had disposed of his big

airship invention.

"Look out there! The gasoline tank may go up!" cried Field, the small

man with the big voice.

Tom did not answer, but ran in as close as was necessary and began to

play a small stream from his hand extinguisher on the blazing car. He

was thus able to direct the white, frothy chemical better than when he

had shot it from the airship, and in a few seconds only some wisps of

curling smoke remained to tell of the presence of the fire. The

automobile was badly charred, but the damage was not past redemption.

"Bless my check book! you did the trick, Tom," cried Mr. Damon, as he

alighted and came up to congratulate his companion.

"Yes. But this wasn't much," Tom said. "I didn't use half the charge.

Short circuit?" he asked Field and Melling who were now returning,

having seen that the danger was passed.

"I--I guess so," replied Melling, in his squeaky voice. "We--we are

much obliged to you."

"No thanks necessary," said Tom, a bit shortly, as he turned to go back

with Mr. Damon to their car. "It's what any one would do under like

circumstances."

"Only you did it very effectively," observed Field.

Tom was wondering if they knew who he was and of his association with

Josephus Baxter. He did not believe the men recognized him as the

person who had been at the Meadow Inn one day with Mary. They had

hardly glanced at him then, he thought.

"That's a mighty powerful extinguisher you have there, young man," said

Melling. "May I ask the make of it? We ought to carry one like it on

our car," he told his companion.

"It is the Swift Aerial Fire Extinguisher," said Tom gravely, with a

glance at Mr. Damon.

"The Swift--Tom Swift?" exclaimed Melling. "Do you mean--"

"I am Tom Swift," put in the young inventor quickly. "And this is one

of my inventions. I might add," he said slowly, looking first Melling

and then Field full in the face, "that I was aided in perfecting the

chemical extinguisher by Josephus Baxter."

The effect on the two men, whom Tom believed were scoundrels, was

marked.

"Baxter!" cried Field.

"Is he associated with you?" demanded Melling.

"Not officially," Tom answered, delighted at the chance to "rub it in,"

as he expressed it later. "I have been helping him, and he has been

helping me since he lost his dye formulae in--in your fire!"

"Does he say he lost them in the fire of our factory?" demanded Field

aggressively.

"He believes he did," asserted Tom. "I helped carry him out of the

laboratory of your place when he was almost dead from suffocation. He

remembers that he had the formulae then, but since has been unable to

find them."

"He'd better be careful how he accuses us!" blustered Field, in his big

voice.

"We could have the law on him for that!" squeaked the bigger Melling.

"He hasn't accused you," said Tom easily. "He only says the formulae

disappeared during the fire in your place, and he is just wondering,

that is all--just wondering!"

"Well, he--we, I--that is, we haven't anything from Baxter that we

didn't pay for," declared Field. "And if he goes about saying such

things he'd better be careful. I am going--"

But he suddenly became silent as his companion's elbow nudged him. And

then Melling took up the talk, saying:

"We're much obliged to you, Mr. Swift, for putting out the fire in our

car. But for you it would have been destroyed. And if you ever want to

sell the extinguisher process of yours, you'll find us in the market.

We are going into the dye business on a large scale, and we can always

use new chemical combinations."

"My extinguisher is not for sale," said Tom dryly. "Come on, Mr. Damon.

We can take you into town, I suppose," Tom went on, looking at his

eccentric friend for confirmation, and finding it in a nod. "But I

doubt if we could tow you, as we are in a hurry, and--"

"Oh, thank you, we'll look over our machine before we leave it," said

Melling. "It may be that we can get it to go."

Tom doubted this, after a look at the charred section, but he easily

understood the dislike of the men, upon whose heads he had heaped coals

of fire, to ride with him and Mr. Damon.

So Field and Melling were left standing in the road near their stranded

car, which, but for Tom Swift's prompt action, would have been only a

heap of ruins.

Tom first visited the man who had a candy machine, in which the owner

wanted to interest Mr. Damon. After seeing a demonstration and giving

his opinion, he attended to his own affairs, in which his hand

extinguisher played a part. Then he called on Mary Nestor at her

relative's home.

"Oh, but it's good to see you again, Tom!" cried Mary, after the first

greeting. "What have you been doing, and what's all that white stuff on

your coat?"

"Fire extinguisher chemical," Tom answered, and he related what had

happened.

"What's the matter with your aunt, Mary? She seems worried about

something," he said, after the aunt with whom Mary was staying had come

in, greeted Tom briefly, and gone out again.

"Oh, she and Uncle Jasper are worried over money matters, I believe,"

Mary said. "Uncle Jasper invested heavily in the Landmark Building

here, and now, I understand, it is discovered that it was put up in

violation of the building laws--something about not being fire-proof.

Uncle Jasper is likely to lose considerable money.

"It isn't that it will make him so very poor," Mary went on. "But

Uncle Barton Keith--you remember you went on the undersea search with

him--Uncle Barton warned Uncle Jasper not to go into the Landmark

Building scheme."

"And Uncle Jasper did, I take it," said Tom.

"Yes. And now he's sorry, for not only may he lose money, but Uncle

Barton will laugh at him, and Uncle Jasper hates that worse than losing

a lot. But tell me about yourself, Tom. What have you been doing? And

is Eradicate going to get better?"

"I hope so," Tom said. "As for me--"

But he was interrupted by loud voices in the hall. He recognized the

tones of Mary's Uncle Jasper saying:

"They're scoundrels, that's what they are! Just plain scoundrels! When

I accuse them of swindling me and others in that Landmark Building deal

they have the nerve to ask me to invest money in some secret dye

formulae they claim will revolutionize the industry! Bah! They're

scoundrels, that's what they are--Field and Melling are scoundrels, and

I'm going to have them arrested!"

CHAPTER XVII

A TOWN BLAZE

Mary's uncle, Jasper Blake, always an impetuous man, opened the door so

quickly that Tom, who was standing near it talking to Mary, barely had

time to move aside.

"Oh, Tom, excuse me! Didn't see you!" bruskly went on Mr. Blake. "But

this thing has gotten on my nerves and I guess I'm a bit wrought up.

"There isn't any guessing about it, Uncle Jasper," said Mary, with a

laugh and a look at Tom to warn him not to tell her relative that he

had just befriended Field and Melling. "For," as Mary said to Tom

later, "he would positively rave at you."

Tom was wise enough to realize this, and so, after some laughing

reference to the effect that he would have to wear protective armor if

he stood near doors when Mary's uncle opened them so suddenly, the

conversation became general.

"I hope you never get roped in as I have been," said Mr. Blake, as he

sat down. "Those scoundrels, Field and Melling, would rob a baby of his

first tooth if they had the chance!"

"No, I am not likely to have anything to do with them; though I have

met them," and Tom gave Mary a glance. "But did I hear you say they are

embarking on a dye enterprise?" he asked. "I couldn't help overhearing

what you said in the hall," he explained.

"That's the story they tell," said Uncle Jasper. "I was foolish enough

to invest in the Landmark Building, and now I'm likely to lose it all

in a lawsuit."

"I mentioned it," said Mary.

"And that isn't the worst," went on Mr. Blake. "But Barton--that's your

friend of the submarine--will give me the laugh, for he was asked to

invest in the same building, and didn't."

"Oh, maybe it will all turn out right," said Tom consolingly. "My

friend Mr. Damon has a little stock in the same structure."

"Nothing those two scoundrels have anything to do with will turn out

right," declared Mary's uncle. "And to think of their nerve when they

ask me to go in with them on a dye scheme!"

"That's what interests me," said Tom.

"Well, take my advice and don't become interested to the extent of

investing any money," warned Mr. Blake. "I'm not going to."

"I didn't mean that way," said Tom. "But I happen to be acquainted with

an expert dye maker who lost some secret formulae during a fire in

Field and Melling's factory."

"You don't say so!" cried Mr. Blake. "Tom Swift, there's something

wrong here! Let you and me talk this over. I begin to see how I may be

able to take a peep through the hole in the grindstone," a colloquial

expression which was as well understood by Tom as were some of Mr.

Damon's blessing remarks.

"If you're going to talk business I think I'll excuse myself," said

Mary.

"Don't go," urged Tom, but she said to him that she would see him

before he left, and then she went out, leaving her uncle and the young

inventor busily engaged in talking.

But though Mr. Blake had certain suspicions regarding Field and

Melling, and though Tom Swift, too, believed they had something to do

with the disappearance of Baxter's secret formulae, it was another

matter to prove anything.

Impetuous as he often was, Mr. Blake was for calling in the police at

once, and having the two men arrested. But Tom counseled delay.

"Wait until we get more evidence against them," he urged.

"But they may skip out!" objected Mary's uncle.

"They won't with that Landmark Building on their hands," said the young

inventor.

"Their hands! Huh! They'll take precious good care that the trouble and

responsibility of it are on other people's hands before they go,"

declared Mr. Blake. "However, I suppose you're right. Barton Keith sets

a deal by your opinion since that undersea search, and while I don't

always agree with him, I do in this case. Especially since he is likely

to have the laugh on me."

"Oh, I wouldn't count everything lost in that building deal," said Tom.

"A way may be found out of the trouble yet. But I must be getting back.

Dr. Henderson was to give a report today on the condition of

Eradicate's eyes, and I want to be there."

"Mary was saying something about your faithful old retainer being in

trouble," said Mr. Blake. "I'm sorry to hear about it."

"We are all sorry for poor Rad," replied Tom slowly. "I only hope he

gets his sight back. His last days will be very sad if he doesn't."

Tom found Mary waiting for him after he had left her uncle, and, after

a short talk with her, he made ready to ride back with Mr. Damon, who,

after having attended to several other matters, was now outside in his

car.

"When are you coming home, Mary?" Tom asked.

"In a week or two," she answered. "I'll send word when I'm ready and

you can come and get me."

"Delighted!" declared Tom. "Don't forget!" During the ride home the

young inventor was unusually silent, so much so that Mr. Damon finally

exclaimed:

"Bless my phonograph, Tom Swift! but what is the matter? Has Mary

broken the engagement?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," was the answer. "Only I'm wondering about

Eradicate, and--other matters."

Other matters had to do with what Mary's uncle had told Tom about the

interest manifested by Field and Melling in some dye industry.

Tom's forebodings regarding his colored helper were nearly borne out,

for Dr. Henderson gloomily shook his head when asked for the verdict.

"It's too early to say for a certainty," replied the medical man, "but

I am not as hopeful as I was, Tom, I'm sorry to say."

"I'm sorry to hear it," returned Tom. "Is there anything we can do--any

hospital to which we can send him for special treatment?"

"No, he is doing as well as he can be expected to right here. Besides,

he has his friends around him, and the companionship of that giant of

yours, absurd as it may seem, is really a tonic to Eradicate. I never

saw such devotion on the part of any one."

"Koku has certainly changed," said Tom. "He and Rad used always to be

quarreling. But I guess that is all over," and Tom sighed.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," declared the medical man. "I haven't given

up, though there are some symptoms I do not like. However, I am going

to wait a week and then make another test."

Tom knew that the week would be an anxious one for him, but, as it

developed, he had so much to do in the next few days that, for the time

being, he rather forgot about Eradicate.

Field and Melling, he heard incidentally, had their machine towed to a

garage for repairs, but beyond that no word came from the two men.

Josephus Baxter remained at work over his dye formulae in one of Tom's

laboratories, but the young inventor did not see much of the

discouraged old man.

Tom did not tell of the encounter with Field and Melling and of

extinguishing the fire in their car, for he knew it would only excite

Mr. Baxter, and do no good.

It was within a few days of the time when Tom was to call in a

committee of fire insurance experts to give them a demonstration of the

efficiency of his aerial fire-fighting machine. He was putting the

finishing touches to his craft and its extinguishing-dropping devices

when he received a call from Mr. Baxter.

"Well, how goes it?" asked Tom, trying to infuse some cheer into his

voice.

"Not very well," was the answer. "I've tried, in every way I know, to

get on the track of the missing methods perfected by that Frenchman,

but I can't. I'd be a millionaire now, if I had that dye information."

"Do you really think they have them--actually have the formulae?" asked

Tom.

"I certainly do. And the reason I believe so is that I was over at a

chemical supply factory the other day when an order came in for a

quantity of a very rare chemical."

"What has that to do with it?" asked Tom.

"This chemical is an ingredient called for by one of the dye formulae

that were stolen from me. I never heard of its being used for anything

else. I at once became suspicious. I learned that this chemical had

been ordered sent to Field and Melling in their new offices in the

Landmark Building."

"Maybe they intend to use it in making a new kind of fireworks,"

suggested Tom.

Mr. Baxter shook his head.

"That chemical never would work in a skyrocket or Roman candle," he

said. "I'm sure they're trying to cheat me out of my dye formulae. If I

could only prove it!"

"That's the trouble," agreed Tom. "But I'll give you all the help I

can. And, come to think of it, I believe you might interest Mr. Blake.

He has no love for Field and Melling, and he has several keen lawyers

on his staff. I believe it would be a good thing for you to talk to Mr.

Blake."

"Please give me a letter of introduction to him," begged Mr. Baxter.

"What I need is legal talent and capital to fight these scoundrels. Mr.

Blake may supply both."

"He may," agreed Tom. "I'll fix it so you can meet him. But what do you

think of this combination, Mr. Baxter? It is my very latest solution

for putting out fires. I'm loading an airship up with some of the bomb

containers now, and--"

Tom's further remarks were interrupted by the noise of shouting and

tumult in the street, and a moment later yells could be heard of:

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

"Another blaze!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter, raising the shades which had

been drawn, since night had fallen.

"And not far away," said Tom, as he caught the reflection of a red

gleam in the sky.

There was a ring at the front doorbell, and almost at once Ned Newton's

voice called:

"Tom! Tom Swift! There's quite a fire in town! Don't you want to try

your new apparatus on it?"

"The very chance!" exclaimed the young inventor. "Come on, Mr. Baxter.

There's room in the airship for you and Ned. I want you to see how my

chemical works!"

Without waiting for a reply from the chemist, Tom caught him by the

hand and led him toward the side door that gave egress to the yard

where one of the airships was housed. Tom caught sight of Ned, who was

hastening toward him.

"Big fire, Tom!" said the young manager again. "Fierce one!"

"I'm going to try to put it out!" Tom answered. "Want to come?"

"Sure thing!" answered Ned.

CHAPTER XVIII

FINISHING TOUCHES

Tom Swift and Ned Newton were so accustomed to acting quickly and in

emergencies that it did not take them long to run out the airship,

which Tom had in readiness, not especially for this emergency, but to

demonstrate his new apparatus to a committee of fire underwriters whom

he had invited to call in a few days.

"Take this, if you will, Mr. Baxter!" cried Tom, giving the chemist a

metal container. "It's a little different combination from the

extinguisher I already have in the machine. Maybe I'll get a chance to

try it."

"You're going to have all the chance you want, Tom, by the looks of

that blaze," commented Ned Newton.

"It does look like quite a fire," observed Tom, as he gazed up at the

sky, where the reflection was turning to a brighter red.

Outside in the streets near the Swift house and shops could be heard

the rattle of fire apparatus, the patter of running feet, and many

shouts from excited men and boys.

"Any idea what it is, Ned?" asked Tom, as he motioned to Mr. Baxter to

climb into the aircraft.

"Some one said it was the new Normal School. But that's farther to the

north," was Ned's answer. "By the way the blaze has increased since I

first saw it, I'd take it to be the lumberyard."

"That would make a monster blaze!" observed Tom. "I don't believe I'll

have chemicals enough for that," and he looked at the rather small

supply in his craft. "However, I haven't time to get any more. Besides,

they'll have the regular department on the job, and this isn't a

skyscraper, anyhow."

"No, we'll have to go to New York or Newmarket for one of those,"

observed Ned. "All ready, Tom?"

"All ready," said the young inventor, as Ned took his place beside Mr.

Baxter.

"What's the matter, Tom?" asked the voice of Mr. Swift, as he came out

into the yard, having been attracted by the flashing lights and the

noise of the aircraft motor, as Tom gave it a preliminary test.

"There's a fire in town," Tom answered. "I'm going to see if they need

my services."

"Guess there isn't any question about that," said his business manager.

Tom's father, who was suffering the infirmities of age, was in the

habit of retiring early, and he had dozed off in his chair directly

after supper, to be awakened by the shouting and confusion about the

place.

"Take care of yourself, my boy!" he advised, as there came a moment of

silence before the throttle of the aircraft was opened to send it on

its upward journey. "Don't take too many risks."

"I won't," Tom promised. "We'll be back soon."

Then came the roar of the motor as Tom cut out the muffler to gain

speed and, a moment later, he and his two friends were sailing aloft

with a load of fire-extinguishing chemicals.

Up and up rose the aircraft. It was not the first time Mr. Baxter had

enjoyed the sensation, but he was not enough of a veteran to be immune

to the thrills nor to be altogether void of fear. And it was his first

night trip. Still he gave few evidences of nervousness.

"These she is!" cried Ned, for when the exhaust from the motor was sent

through the new muffler Tom had attached it was possible to talk aboard

the Lucifer. The young manager pointed down toward the earth, over

which the craft was then skimming, though at no great height.

"It is the lumberyard!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter presently.

"It sure is," assented Tom. "I know I haven't enough stuff to cover as

big a blaze as that, but I'll do my best. Fortunately there is no wind

to speak of," he added, as he guided the craft in the direction of the

fire.

"What has that to do with it--I mean as far as the working of your

chemical extinguisher is concerned?" asked Mr. Baxter. "Can't you drop

the bomb containers accurately in a wind?"

"Well, the wind has to be allowed for in dropping anything from an

aeroplane," Tom answered. "And, naturally, it does spoil your aim to an

extent. But the reason I'm glad there is no wind to speak of is that

the chemical blanket I hope to spread over the fire won't be so quickly

blown away."

"Oh, I see," said Mr. Baxter. "Well, I'm glad that you will be able to

have a successful test of your invention."

"The regular land apparatus is on hand," observed Ned, for they were

now so near the fire that they could look down and, in the reflection

from the blaze, could see engines, hose-wagons and hook and ladder

trucks arriving and deploying to different places of advantage, from

which to fight the lumberyard fire that was now a roaring furnace of

flames.

"No skyscraper work needed here," observed Tom. "But it will give me a

chance to use the latest combination I worked out. I'll try that first.

Are you ready with it, Mr. Baxter?"

"Yes," was the answer.

The young inventor, not heeding the cries of wonder that arose from

below and paying no attention to the uplifted hands and arms pointing

to him, steered his craft to a corner of the yard where there was a

small isolated fire in a pile of boards. It was Tom's idea to try his

new chemical first on this spot to watch the effect. Then he would turn

loose all his other containers of the chemical mixture that had proved

so effective in other tests.

Attention of those who had gathered to look at the fire was about

evenly divided between the efforts of the regular department and the

pending action by Tom Swift. The latter was not long in turning loose

his latest sensation.

"Let it go!" he cried to Mr. Baxter, and down into the seething caldron

of flame dropped a thin sheet-iron container of powerful chemicals.

Leaning over the cockpit of the aircraft, the occupants watched the

effect. There was a slight explosion heard, even above the roar of the

flames, and the tongues of fire in the section where Tom's extinguisher

had fallen died down.

"Good work!" cried Ned.

"No!" answered Tom, shaking his head. "I was a little afraid of this.

Not enough carbon dioxide in this mixture. I'll stick to the one I

found most effective." For the flames, after momentarily dying down,

burst out again in the spot where he had dropped the bomb.

Tom wheeled the airship in a sharp, banking turn, and headed for the

heart of the fire in the lumberyard. It was clearly getting beyond the

control of the regular department.

"How about you, Ned?" called Tom, for he had given his chum charge of

dropping the regular bombs containing a large quantity of the

extinguisher Tom had practically adopted.

"All ready," was the answer.

"Let 'em go!" came the command, and down shot the dark, spherical

objects. They burst as they hit the ground or the piles of blazing

lumber, and at once the powerful gases generated by the mixture of

several different chemicals were released.

Again the three in the airship leaned eagerly over the side of the

cockpit to watch the effect. It was almost magical in its action.

The bombs had been dropped into the very fiercest heart of the fire,

and it was only an instant before their action was made manifest.

"This will do the trick!" cried Ned. "I'm certain it will."

"I didn't have much fear that it wouldn't," said Tom. "But I hoped the

other would be better, for it is a much cheaper mixture to make, and

that will count when you come to sell it to big cities."

"But the fire is certainly dying down," declared Mr. Baxter.

And this was true. As container after container of the bomb type fell

in different parts of the burning lumberyard, while Tom coursed above

it, the flames began to be smothered in various sections.

And from the watching crowds, as well as from the hard-working members

of the Shopton fire department, came cheers of delight and

encouragement as they saw the work of Tom Swift's aerial fire-fighting

machine.

For he had, most completely, subdued what threatened to be a great

fire, and when the last of his bombs had been dropped, so effective was

the blanket of fire-dampening gases spread around that the flames just

naturally expired, as it were.

As Tom had said, the absence of wind was in his favor, for the

generated gases remained just where they were wanted, directly over the

fire like an extinguishing blanket, and were not blown aside as would

otherwise have been the case.

And, by the peculiar manner in which his chemicals were mixed, Tom had

made them practically harmless for human beings to breathe. Though the

fire-killing gases were unpleasant, there was no danger to life in

them, and while several of the firemen made wry faces, and one or two

were slightly ill from being too close to the chemicals, no one was

seriously inconvenienced.

"Well, I guess that's all," said Tom, when the final bomb had been

dropped. "That was the last of them, wasn't it, Ned?"

"Yes, but you don't need any more. The fire's out--or what isn't can be

easily handled by the hose lines."

"Good!" cried Tom. "But, all the same, I wish I had been able to make

the first mixture work."

"Perhaps I can help you with that," suggested Mr. Baxter.

And the following day, after Tom had received the thanks of the town

officials and of the fire department for his work in subduing the

lumberyard blaze, the young inventor called Josephus Baxter in

consultation.

"I feel that I need your help," said the young inventor. "You have been

at this chemical study longer than I, and I am willing to pay you well

for your work. Of course I can't make up to you the loss of your dye

formulae. But while you are waiting for something to turn up in regard

to them, you may be glad to assist me."

"I will, and without pay," said the chemist.

But Tom would not hear of that, and together he and Mr. Baxter set

about putting the finishing touches to Tom's latest invention.

CHAPTER XIX

ON THE TRAIL

"There, Tom Swift, it ought to work now!"

Josephus Baxter held up a large laboratory test tube, in which seethed

and bubbled some strange mixture, turning from green to purple, then to

red, and next to a white, milky mixture.

"Do you think you've hit on the right combination?" asked the young

inventor, whose latest idea, the plan of fighting fires in skyscrapers

from an airship as a vantage point, was taking up all his spare moments.

"I'm positive of it," said Mr. Baxter. "I've dabbled in chemicals long

enough to be certain of this, even if I can't get on the track of the

missing dye formulae."

"That certainly is too bad," declared Tom. "I wish I could help you as

much as you have helped me."

"Oh, you have helped me a lot," said the chemist. "You have given me a

place to work, much better than the laboratory I had in the old

fireworks factory of Field and Melling. And you have paid me, more than

liberally, for what little I have done for you."

"You've done a lot for me," declared Tom. "If it had not been for your

help this chemical compound would not be nearly as satisfactory as it

is, nor as cheap to manufacture, which is a big item."

"Oh, you were on the right track," said Mr. Baxter. "You would have

stumbled on it yourself in a short time, I believe. But I will say, Tom

Swift, that, between us, we have made a compound that is absolutely

fatal to fires. Even a small quantity of it, dropped in the heart of a

large blaze, will stop combustion."

"And that's what I want," declared Tom. "I think I shall go ahead now,

and proceed with the manufacture of the stuff on a large scale."

"And what do you propose doing with it?" asked Mr. Baxter.

"I'm going to sell the patent and the idea that goes with it to as many

large cities as I can," Tom answered. "I'll even manufacture the

airships that are needed to carry the stuff over the tops of blazing

skyscrapers, dropping it down. I'll supply complete aerial

fire-fighting plants."

"And I think you'll do a good business," said the chemist.

It was the conclusion of the final tests of an improved chemical

mixture, and the reaction that had taken place in the test tube was the

end of the experiment. Success was now again on the side of Tom Swift.

But when that has been said there remains the fact that it was just the

other way with the unfortunate Mr. Baxter.

Try as he had, he could not succeed in getting the right chemical

combination to perfect the dye process imparted to him by his late

French friend. With the disappearance of the secret formulae went the

good luck of Josephus Baxter.

He had worked hard, taking advantage of Tom's generosity, to bring back

to his memory the proper manner of mixing certain ingredients, so that

permanent dyes of wondrous beauty in coloring would be evolved. But it

was all in vain.

"I know who have those formulae," declared the chemist again and again.

"It is those scoundrels, Field and Melling. And they are planning to

build up their own dye business with what is mine by right!"

And though Tom, also, believed this, there was no way of proving it.

As the young inventor had said, he was now ready to put his own latest

invention on the market. After many tests, aided in some by Mr. Baxter,

a form of liquid fire extinguisher had been made that was superior to

any known, and much cheaper to manufacture. Veteran members of fire

departments in and about Shopton told Tom so. All that remained was to

demonstrate that it would be as effective on a large scale as it was on

a small one, and big cities, it was agreed, must, of necessity, add it

to their equipment.

"Well, I think I'll give orders to start the works going," said Tom, at

the conclusion of the final test. "I have all the ingredients on hand

now, and all that remains is to combine them. My airship is all ready,

with the bomb-dropping device."

"And I wish you all sorts of luck," said Mr. Baxter. "Now I am going to

have another go at my troubles. I have just thought of a possible new

way of combining two of the chemicals I need to use. It may be I shall

have success."

"I hope so," murmured Tom. He was about to leave the room when Koku,

the giant, entered, with a letter in his hand. The big man showed some

signs of agitation, and Tom was at once apprehensive about Eradicate.

"Is Rad--has anything happened--shall I get the doctor?"

"Oh, Rad, him all right," answered Koku. "That is him not see yet, but

mebby soon. Only I have to chase boy, an' he make faces at me--boy

bring this," and the giant held out the envelope.

"Oh!" exclaimed Tom, and he understood now. Messenger boys frequently

came to Tom's house or to the shops, and they took delight in poking

fun at Koku on account of his size, which made him slow in getting

about. The boys delighted to have him chase them, and something like

this had evidently just taken place, accounting for Koku's agitation.

"This is for you, Mr. Baxter, not for me," said Tom, as he read the

name on the envelope.

"For me!" exclaimed the chemist. "Who could be writing to me? It's a

big firm of dye manufacturers," he went on, as he caught a glimpse of

the superscription in the upper left hand corner.

Quickly he read the contents of the epistle, and a moment later he gave

a joyful cry.

"I'm on the trail! On the trail of those scoundrels at last!" exclaimed

Josephus Baxter. "This gives me just the evidence I needed! Now I'll

have them where I want them!"

CHAPTER XX

A HEAVY LOAD

Josephus Baxter was so excited by the receipt of the letter which Koku

delivered to him that for some seconds Tom Swift could get nothing out

of him except the statement:

"I'm on their trail! Now I'm on their trail!"

"What do you mean?" Tom insisted. "Whose trail? What's it all about?"

"It's about Field and Melling! That's who it's about!" exclaimed Mr.

Baxter, with a smothered exclamation. "Look, Tom Swift, this letter is

addressed to me from one of the biggest dye firms in the world--a firm

that is always looking for something new!"

"But if you haven't anything new to give them, of what use is it?" Tom

asked, for he knew that the chemist had said his process, stolen, as he

claimed, by Field and Melling, was his only new project.

"But I will have something new when I get those secret formulae away

from those scoundrels!" declared Mr. Baxter.

"Yes, but how are you going to do it, when you can't even prove that

they have them?" asked Tom.

"Ah, that's the point! Now I think I can prove it," declared Mr.

Baxter. "Look, Tom Swift! This letter is addressed to me in care of

Field and Melling at the office I used to have in their fireworks

factory."

"The office from which you were rescued nearly dead," Tom added.

"Exactly. The place where you saved me from a terrible death. Well, if

you will notice, this letter was written only two days ago. And it is

the first mail I have received as having been forwarded from that

address since the fire. I know other mail must have come for me,

though."

"What became of it?" asked Tom.

"Those scoundrels confiscated it!" declared the chemist. "But, in some

manner, perhaps through the error of a new clerk, this letter was

remailed to me here, and now I have it. It is of the utmost importance!"

"In what way?" asked Tom.

"Why, it is directed to me, outside and in, and it makes an inquiry

about the very dyes of the lost secret formulae, one dye in particular."

"I don't quite understand yet," said Tom.

"Well, it's this way," went on Mr. Baxter. "I had, in the office of

Field and Melling, all the papers telling exactly how to make the dyes.

After the fire, in which I was rendered unconscious, those papers

disappeared.

"The only way in which any one could make the dyes in question was by

following the formulae given in those papers. And now here is a letter,

addressed to me from a big firm, asking my prices on a certain dye,

which can only be made by the process bequeathed to me by the

Frenchman."

"Which means what?" asked Tom.

"It means that Field and Melling must have been writing to this firm on

their own hook, offering to sell them some of this dye. But, in some

way, my name must have appeared on the letter or papers sent on by the

scoundrels, and this big firm replies to me direct, instead of to Field

and Melling! Even then I would not have benefited if they had

confiscated this letter as I am sure, they have done in the case of

others. But, by some slip, I get this.

"And it proves, Tom Swift, that Field and Melling are in possession of

my dye formulae, and that they have tried to dispose of some of the dye

to this firm. Not knowing anything of this, the firm replies to me. So

now I have direct evidence--just what I wanted--and I can get on the

trail of the scoundrels who have cheated me of my rights."

Tom looked at the letter which, it appeared, had been left with Koku by

a special delivery boy from the post office. It was an inquiry about

certain dyes, and was addressed to Mr. Baxter in care of Field and

Melling, the former fireworks firm, which now had started a big dye

plant, with offices in the Landmark Building in Newmarket.

"It does look as though you might get at them through this," Tom said,

as he handed back the letter. "But I'm afraid you'll have to get

further evidence before you could convict them in a court of

law--you'll have to show that they actually have possession of your

formulae."

"That's what I wish I could do," said the chemist, somewhat wistfully.

His first enthusiasm had been lessened.

"I'll help you all I can," offered Tom. And events were soon to

transpire by which the young inventor was to render help to the chemist

in a most sensational manner.

"Just now," Tom went on, "I must arrange about getting a large supply

of these chemicals made, and then plan for a test in some big city."

"Yes, you have done enough for me," said Mr. Baxter. "But I think now,

with this letter as evidence, we'll be able to make a start."

"I agree with you," Tom said. "Why don't you go over to see Mr. Damon?

He's a good business man, and perhaps he can advise you. You might

also call on that lawyer who does work for Mr. Keith and Mr. Blake. And

that reminds me I must call Mary Nestor up and find out when she is

coming home. I promised to fetch her in one of the airships."

"I will go and see Mr. Damon," decided Mr. Baxter. "He always gives

good advice."

"Even if he does bless everything he sees!" laughed Tom. "But if you're

going to see him I'll run you over. I'm going to Waterfield."

"Thanks, I'll be glad to go with you," said the chemist.

Mr. Damon was glad to see his friends, and, when he had listened to the

latest developments, he exclaimed with unusual emphasis:

"Bless my law books, Mr. Baxter! but I do believe you're on the right

trail at last. Come in, and we'll talk this over."

So Tom left them, traveling on to a distant city where he arranged for

a large supply of the chemicals he would need in his extinguisher.

For several days Tom was so busy that he had little time to devote to

Mr. Baxter, or even to see him. He learned, however, that the chemist

and Mr. Damon were in frequent consultation, and the young inventor

hoped something would come of it.

Tom's own plans were going well. He had let several large cities know

that he had something new in the way of a fire-fighting machine, and he

received several offers to demonstrate it.

He closed with one of these, some distance off, and agreed to fly over

in his aircraft and extinguish a fire which was to be started in an old

building which had been condemned, and was to be destroyed. This was in

a city some four hundred miles away and when Ned Newton called on him

one afternoon he found Tom busily engaged in loading his sky-craft with

a heavy cargo of the newest liquid extinguisher.

"You aren't taking any chances, are you, Tom?" asked Ned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you seem to have enough of the liquid 'fire-discourager' to

douse any blaze that was ever started."

"No use sending a boy on a man's errand," said Tom. "I'm counting on

you to go with me, Ned--you and Mr. Baxter. We leave this afternoon for

Denton."

"I'll be with you. Couldn't pass up a chance like that. But here comes

Koku, and it looks as if he had something on his mind."

The giant did, indeed, seem to be laboring under the stress of some

emotion.

"Oh, Master Tom!" the big man exclaimed when he had got the attention

of the young inventor. "Rad--he--he--"

"Has anything happened?" asked Tom, quickly. "No, not yet. But dat pill

man--he say by tomorrow he know if Rad ever will see sunshine more!"

"Oh, the doctor says he'll be able to decide about Rad's eyesight

tomorrow, does he?"

"Yes. What so pill man say," repeated Koku.

"Um," mused Tom, "I wish I were going to be here, but I don't see how I

can. I must give this test." But it was with a sinking heart as he

thought of poor Eradicate that the young inventor proceeded to pile

into his airship the largest and heaviest load of chemicals it had ever

carried.

CHAPTER XXI

THE LIGHT IN THE SKY

"Well, what do you say, Tom?" asked Ned, in a low voice.

"She's all right as far as I can see, though she may stagger a bit at

the take off."

"It's a pretty heavy load," agreed the young manager, as he and Tom

Swift walked about the big fire-fighting airship Lucifer, which had

been rolled outside the hangar. "But still I think she'll take it,

especially since you've tuned up the motor so it's at least twenty per

cent. more powerful than it was."

"Perhaps you'd better leave me out," suggested Mr. Baxter, who had been

helping the boys. "I'm not a feather weight, you know."

"I need you with us," said Tom. "I want your expert opinion on the

effect the new chemicals have on the flames."

"Well, I'd like to come," admitted the chemist, "for it will be a

valuable experience for me. But I don't want an accident up in the air."

"Trust Tom Swift for that!" cried Ned. "If he says his aircraft will do

the trick, it positively will."

"How about leaving me out?" asked Mr. Damon. "I'm not an expert in

anything, as far as I know."

"You are in keeping us cheerful. And we may need you to bless things if

there's a slip-up anywhere," laughed Tom, for Mr. Damon had been

invited to be one of the party.

"I don't so much mind a slip-up," said Mr. Damon, "as I do a slip down.

That's where it hurts! However, I'll take a chance with you, Tom Swift.

It won't be the first one--and I guess it won't be the last."

The work of getting the big airship ready for what was to be a

conclusive test of her fire-fighting abilities from the clouds

proceeded rapidly. As has been related, Tom had perfected, with the

help of Mr. Baxter, a combination of chemicals which was effective in

putting out a fire when dropped into the blaze from above. Quantities

of this combination had been stored in metal containers which Tom had

at first styled "bombs," but which he now called "aerial grenades."

The manner of dropping the grenades was, on the whole, similar to the

manner in which bombs were dropped from airships during the Great War,

but Tom had made several improvements in this plan.

These improvements had to do with the releasing of the bombs, or, in

this case, grenades. It is not easy to drop or throw something from a

swiftly moving airship so that it will hit an object on the ground.

During the war aviators had to train for some time before becoming even

approximately accurate.

Tom Swift decided that to leave this matter to chance or to the eye of

the occupant of an airship was too indefinite. Accordingly he invented

a machine, something like a range-finder for big guns. With this it was

a comparatively easy matter to drop a grenade at almost any designated

place.

To accomplish this it was necessary to take into consideration the

speed of the airship, its height above the ground, the velocity of the

wind, the weight of the grenades, and other things of this sort. But by

an intricate mathematical process Tom solved the problem, so that it

was only necessary to set certain pointers and levers along a slide

rule in the cockpit of the craft. Then when the releasing catch was

pressed, the grenades would drop down just about where they were most

needed.

"I think everything is ready," said Tom, when he had taken a last look

over his craft, making sure that all the chemical grenades were in

place. "If you will be ready, gentlemen, we will take our places and

start in about half an hour," he added. "I want to say goodbye to my

father, and cheer up Rad--if I can."

"The doctor will know tomorrow, will he?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Yes. And I'm sorry I will not be here to listen to the report," said

Tom. "Though I am almost afraid to receive it," he added in a low

voice. "I shall blame myself if Rad is to go through the remainder of

his life blind."

"It couldn't be helped," said Ned. "We'll hope for the best."

"Yes," agreed Tom, "that's all we can do--hope for the best. By the

way," he went on, turning to Mr. Baxter, "are you any nearer fastening

the guilt on those two rascals, Field and Melling?"

"Bless my prosecuting attorney, no!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Those are

the slickest scoundrels I ever tackled! They're like a flea. Once you

think you have them where you want them, and they're on the other side

of the table, skipping around."

"I've about given up," said Mr. Baxter, in discouraged tones. "I guess

my dye formulae are gone forever."

"Don't say that!" exclaimed Tom. "Once I get this fire matter off my

hands, I'm going to tackle the problem myself. We'll either make those

fellows sorry they ever meddled in this matter, or we'll get up a new

combination of dyes that will put them out of business!"

"Bless my Easter eggs, I'm glad to hear you talk that way!" cried Mr.

Damon.

"Well, Rad, I'll expect to see you up and around when I get back," said

Tom to his old servant, as he stepped into the sick room to say goodbye.

"Oh, is yo' goin', Massa Tom?" asked the colored man, turning his

bandaged head in the direction of the beloved voice.

"Yes. I'm going to try out a new scheme of mine--the fire extinguisher,

you know."

"De same one whut fizzed up, an'--an' busted me in de eyes, Massa Tom?"

"Yes, Rad, I'm sorry to say, it's the same one."

"Oh, shucks now, Massa Tom! whut's use worryin'?" laughed Rad. "I suah

will be all right when yo' gits back. De doctor man--de 'pill man' dat

giant calls him--says I'll suah be better."

"Of course you will," declared Tom, but his heart sank when he saw Mrs.

Baggert remove the bandages and he caught sight of Rad's burned face

and the eyes that had to be kept closed if ever they were again to look

on the sunshine and flowers. "And when I come back, Rad, I'll stage a

little fire for your benefit, and show you how quickly I can put it

out."

"Ha! dat's whut I wants to see, Massa Tom, I suah does like to see

fires!" chuckled Eradicate. "Mah ole mule, Boomerang--does yo' 'member

him, Massa Tom?"

"Of course, Rad!"

"Well, Boomerang he liked fires, too. Liked 'em so much I jest couldn't

git him past 'em lots ob times I But run 'long, Massa Tom. Yo' ain't

got no time to waste on an ole culled man whut's seen his best days.

Yas-sir, I reckon I'se seen mah best days," and the smile died from the

honest, black face.

"Oh, don't talk like that!" cried Tom, as cheerfully as he could.

"You've got a lot of work in you yet, Rad. Hasn't he, Koku?" and the

young inventor appealed to the giant, who seldom left the side of his

former enemy.

"Rad good man--him an' me do lots work--next week mebby," said Koku,

smiling very broadly.

"That's the way to talk!" exclaimed Tom, and he laughed a little though

his heart was far from light.

And then, having seen to the final details, he took his place in the

big airship with Ned, Mr. Damon and Josephus Baxter. The craft carried

the largest possible load of fire extinguishing chemicals.

As Tom had feared, the Lucifer staggered a bit in "taking off" late

that afternoon when the start was made for the distant city of Denton,

where the first real test was to be made under the supervision and

criticism of the fire department. But once the craft was aloft she rode

on a level keel.

"I guess we're all right," Tom said. But to make certain he circled

several times over his own landing field, that a good place to come

down might be assured if something unforeseen developed.

However, all went well, and then the course was straightened for the

distant city.

"We'll go right over Newmarket, sha'n't we, Tom?" asked Ned, as the

speed of the Lucifer increased.

"Yes. And I wish I had time to stop and see Mary, but I haven't. It's

getting dark fast, and we ought to arrive at our destination early in

the morning. The test has been set by the committee for ten o'clock."

They settled themselves comfortably in the big craft for a long night

trip, and Mr. Damon was just going to bless something or other when he

pointed off into the distance.

"Look, Tom!" cried the eccentric man. "See that light in the sky!"

"Seems to be a fire," observed Ned.

"It is a fire!" shouted Mr. Baxter. "And it's in Newmarket, if I'm any

judge."

Tom Swift did not answer, but he shoved forward the gasolene lever of

his controls, and the Lucifer shot ahead through the air while the red,

angry glow deepened in the evening sky.

CHAPTER XXII

TRAPPED

While Tom Swift was loading the Lucifer for her trip and the fire

extinguishing test to occur the next morning, quite a different scene

was taking place in the home of Jasper Blake, the uncle of Mary Nestor,

where she had gone to spend a few weeks.

"Well, are you all ready, Mary?" asked her aunt, and it was about the

same time that Ned Newton asked that same question of Tom Swift. Only

Tom was in Shopton, and Mary was in Newmarket, and Tom was setting off

on an air voyage, while Mary was only preparing to take a car downtown

to do some shopping.

"Yes, Aunt, I'm all ready," Mary answered. "But I may be a bit late

getting home."

"Why?" asked Mrs. Blake.

"I promised Uncle Barton I'd stop and call on him at his office," Mary

replied. "He has something he wants me to take home to mother when I go

tomorrow."

"I shall be sorry to see you go back," said Mrs. Blake. "But I imagine

there will be those in Shopton who will be glad to see you return,

Mary."

"Yes, mother wrote that she and dad were getting a bit lonesome," the

girl casually replied, as she adjusted her veil.

"Yes, and some one else. Ah, Mary, you are a very lucky girl!" laughed

her aunt, while Mary turned aside so she would not see her own blushes

in the mirror.

"I thought Tom was going to call and take you home in his airship,

Mary," went on her relative.

"So he is, I believe, on his way back from a city where he is going to

be tomorrow making a big fire test. I am to wait for him until tomorrow

afternoon. But now I really must go shopping, or all the bargains will

be taken. Is there any word you want to send to Uncle Barton?"

"No," answered Mrs. Blake. "Though you might tell him to stop poking

fun at your Uncle Jasper for having invested money in the Landmark

Building. It's getting on your Uncle Jasper's nerves," she added.

"Uncle Barton never can give up a joke, once he thinks he has one,"

said Mary. "But I'll tell him to stop pestering Uncle Jasper."

"Please do," urged Mary's aunt, and then the girl left.

Mary's uncle, Barton Keith, with whom Tom Swift had been associated

during the undersea search, had offices in the Landmark Building, but

his home was in an adjoining suburb.

The girl was pleased with the results of her shopping, and at the close

of the afternoon she stopped at the Landmark Building and was soon

being shot up in the elevator to the floor where Barton Keith had his

offices.

Though Mr. Keith had refrained from investing in the Landmark Building

and though he laughed at Mary's Uncle Jasper for having done so, this

did not prevent him from having a suite of offices in the big structure

which, as we already know, was owned in large part by Field and Melling.

"Ah, Mary! Come in!" exclaimed Mr. Keith, welcoming Tom Swift's

sweetheart. "It is so late I was afraid you weren't coming, and I was

about to close the office and go home."

"You must blame the bargain sales for my delay," laughed Mary. "I hope

I haven't kept you waiting."

"No, I still had a few things to do. One was to write a letter to your

Uncle Jasper, telling him I had heard of another fire trap that was

open to investors."

"Oh, and that reminds me I must tell you not to push Uncle Jasper too

far!" warned Mary.

"Ha! Ha!" laughed Uncle Barton. "He made fun of me for going on the

undersea search with Tom Swift. But I made good on that, and that's

more than he can say about his Landmark Building deal!"

"But don't exasperate him too much!" begged Mary. "By the way, what are

they doing to this building? I see the stairways and some of the

elevator shafts all littered with building material."

"They are trying to make it fireproof," answered her uncle. "It's

rather late to try that now, but they've got either to do it or stand a

big increase in insurance rates. I'm glad I'm out of it. But now, Mary,

take an easy chair until I finish some work, and then I'll walk out

with you."

Mary took a seat near one of the front windows, whence she could look

down into the now fast-darkening streets. She could see the supper

crowds hurrying home, and out in the corridor of the big skyscraper

could be heard the banging of elevator doors as the office tenants, one

after another, left for the day.

Suddenly there was more commotion than usual, followed by the sound of

broken glass. Then came a cry of:

"Fire! Fire!"

Mary sprang to her feet with a gasp of alarm, and her uncle rushed past

her to the door leading into the hall outside his offices. As he opened

the door a cloud of smoke rushed toward him and Mary, causing them to

choke and gasp.

Mr. Keith closed the door a moment, and when he opened it again the

smoke in the hall seemed less dense.

"It probably is only a slight blaze among some of the material the

workmen are using," he said. "Come, Mary, we'll get out."

Pausing only to swing shut the door of his heavy safe and to stuff some

valuable papers into his pocket, Mr. Keith advanced and, taking Mary by

the arm, led her into the hall. The smoke was increasing again, and

distant shouts and cries could be heard, mingled with the breaking of

glass.

Mr. Keith rang the elevator buzzer several times, but when no car came

up the shaft in response to his summons he turned to his niece and said:

"We'll try the stairs. It's only ten stories down, and going down isn't

anything like coming up."

"Oh, indeed I can walk!" said Mary. "Let's hurry out!"

They turned toward the stairway, which wound around the elevator

shafts, but such a cloud of hot, stifling smoke rolled up that it sent

them back, choking and gasping for breath.

And then, as they stood there, up the elevator shafts, which were

veritable chimneys, came more hot smoke, mingled with sparks of fire.

"Trapped!" gasped Mr. Keith, and he pulled Mary back toward his offices

to get away from the choking, stifling smoke. "We're trapped!"

CHAPTER XXIII

TO THE RESCUE

"Uncle! Uncle Barton!" faltered Mary, as she clung to Mr. Keith. "Can't

we get down the stairs?"

"I'm afraid not, Mary," he answered, and he closed the door of his

office to keep out the smoke that was ever increasing.

"And won't the elevators come for us?"

"They don't seem able to get up," was his reply. "Probably the fire

started in the bottom of the shafts, and they act just like flues,

drawing up the flames and smoke."

"Then we must try the fire escapes!" exclaimed Mary, and she started

toward the front window, pulling her uncle across the room after her.

"Mary, there aren't--aren't any fire escapes!" he said hoarsely.

"No fire escapes!" The girl turned paler than before.

"No, not an escape as far as I know. You see, this was thought to be a

fireproof building at first and small attention was given to escapes.

Then the law stepped in and the owners were ordered to put up regular

escapes. They have started the work, but just now the old escapes have

been torn down and the new ones are not yet in place."

"Oh, but Uncle Barton! can't we do something?" cried Mary. "There must

be some way out! Let's try the elevators again, or the stairs!"

Before Mr. Keith could stop her Mary had opened the door into the hall.

To the agreeable surprise of her uncle there seemed to be less smoke

now.

"We may have a chance!" he cried, and he rushed out. "Hurry!"

Frantically he pushed the button that summoned the elevators. Down

below, in the elevator shafts, could be heard the roar and crackle of

flames.

"Let's try the stairs!" suggested Mary. "They seem to be free now."

She started down the staircase which went in square turns about the

battery of elevators, and her uncle followed. But they had not more

than reached the first landing when a roll of black, choking smoke,

mingled with sparks of fire, surged into their faces.

"Back, Mary! Back!" cried Mr. Keith, and he dragged the impetuous girl

with him to their own corridor, and back into his offices which, for

the time being, were comparatively free from the choking vapor.

"We must try the windows, Uncle Barton! We must!" cried Mary. "Surely

there is some way down--maybe by dropping from ledge to ledge!"

Her uncle shook his head. Then he opened the window and looked out. As

he did so there arose from the streets below the cries of many voices,

mingled with the various sounds of fire apparatus--the whistles of

engines, the clang of gongs, and the puffing of steamers.

"The firemen are here! They'll save us!" cried Mary, as she heard the

noises in the street below. "We can leap into the life nets."

"There isn't a life net made, nor men who could retain it, to hold up a

person jumping from the tenth story," said her uncle. "Our only chance

is to wait for them to subdue the fire."

"Isn't there a back way down, Uncle Barton?" "No, Mary!" He closed the

window for, open as it was, the draft created served to suck smoke into

the office, and Mary was coughing.

Uncle and niece faced each other. Trapped indeed they were, unless the

fire, which was now raging all through the building, with the stairs

and elevator shafts as a center, could be subdued. That the city fire

department was doing its best was not to be doubted.

"We can only wait--and hope," said Mr. Keith solemnly.

Mary gave a gasp. Her uncle thought she was going to burst into tears,

but she bravely conquered herself and faced him with what was meant to

be a smile. But it is difficult to smile with quivering lips, and Mary

soon gave up the attempt.

Mr. Keith went over to the water cooler--one of those inverted large

glass bottles--and looked to see how much water it contained.

"It's nearly full," he said.

"What good will it do?" asked Mary. "This fire is beyond a little water

like that."

"Yes, but it will serve to keep our handkerchiefs wet so we can breathe

through them if the smoke gets too thick," was his reply.

"It begins to look as if we'd need to try that soon," said Mary, and

she pointed to thick smoke curling in under the door.

"Yes," agreed her uncle. "It's getting worse." Hardly had he spoken

when there came a rush of feet in the corridor outside his office door.

Then a voice exclaimed:

"We're trapped! We can't get down either the stairs or the elevators!"

"It can't be possible!" said another voice. "Something must be done!

Help! Help! Take us out of here!"

"Foolish cowards!" murmured Mr. Keith, and then the door of his office

was violently opened and two men rushed in. They were strangers to Mary

and her uncle.

"Isn't there any way out of this fire trap?" cried one of the men. "Are

there any fire escapes at your windows?"

"None," said Mr. Keith.

"This is all your fault, Melling!" cried the smaller of the two men,

whose voice, in loudness and depth of pitch, was out of all proportion

to his size. "All your fault! I told you we should have those new fire

escapes!"

"And you were the one, Field, who objected to the cost of fire escapes

when you found what the charge would be," retorted the other. "You said

we didn't need to waste that money, if the building was fire-proof."

"But it isn't, Melling! It isn't!" yelled the other.

"We're finding that out too late!" came the retort. "But I'm not going

to die here like a rat in a trap!" And he raised the window and leaned

out and yelled, "Help! Help! Help!"

"Don't do that," said Mr. Keith, coming over to close the casement.

"They can't hear you down below, and opening the window will only fill

this place with smoke. Are you Field and Melling?"

"Yes, of the Consolidated Dye Company," was the answer from the big

man. "We are also part owners of this building, but I wish we weren't."

"It is a pretty poor specimen of a modern building," said Mr. Keith.

"You have offices here, haven't you?" he went on. "I remember to have

seen your names on the directory."

"We're on the floor above," was the answer from Field. "We were in a

rear room, going over some accounts, and we didn't know anything was

wrong until we smelled smoke. We tried to get down, and managed to

come, by way of the stairs, as far as this floor," he explained quickly.

"You can't go any farther," said Mr. Keith. "All there is to do is to

wait for the firemen."

"Suppose they never come?" whined Melling. "Oh, they'll come!" asserted

Mary's uncle, but he spoke more to quiet her alarm than because he

really believed it, for the Landmark Building was a seething furnace of

flame centering in and about the elevator shafts and stairs.

Meanwhile Tom and his companions in the airship had seen the red glow

in the evening sky, and in another minute the young inventor had turned

his craft more directly toward it.

"It surely is in Newmarket," said Mr. Damon. "Right in the center of

the city, too. There's one big building there--the Landmark."

"Looks as if that was afire," said Ned quickly. "Hasn't some relative

of Mary's an office there, Tom?"

"Yes. Mr. Keith. And her other uncle, Jasper Blake, is also interested

in the building. It's the Landmark all right!" cried Tom, as his craft

rose higher and advanced nearer the blaze.

"What are you going to do?" yelled Mr. Damon, as he saw the young

inventor head directly toward a spouting mushroom of flame, which

showed that the fire had broken through the roof. "What are you going

to do?"

"Go to the rescue!" answered Tom Swift. "I couldn't ask a better

opportunity to try my new extinguisher! Sit tight, every one!"

CHAPTER XXIV

A STRANGE DISCOVERY

Once it became evident to the occupants of the airship what Tom Swift's

plans were, they all prepared to help him. Previous to the trip certain

duties had been assigned to each one, duties which were to be exercised

when Tom gave the exhibition of his new aerial fire-fighting apparatus

at the set fire before the fire department of Denton.

This preparation now stood the young inventor in good stead, for there

was no confusion aboard the Lucifer when she winged her way toward the

burning Landmark Building, where the flames were continually spouting

higher and higher as they rushed through the roof, directly above the

stairway well and elevator shafts.

So far the flames had confined themselves to this central part of the

big structure, but it was only a question of time when they would

spread out on all sides, licking up the remainder of the pile. And, for

the most part, the firemen on the ground were at a great disadvantage.

They had run in lines as near as they could get to the center of the

blaze, and had also attached hose to the standpipes inside the

building. But this last effort was wasted, as developed later, for

there was no one in the building to direct the nozzle ends of the hose

attached to the standpipes on the different floors. Also the fierce

heat fairly melted the pipes themselves in the vicinity of the elevator

shafts, and there was no automatic sprinkling system in the building.

This was the situation, then, when Tom in his airship loaded with

fire-extinguishing chemicals headed for the blaze. And this, also, was

the desperate situation that confronted Mary Nestor and her uncle,

Barton Keith, as well as Amos Field and Jason Melling. Those

unscrupulous and cowardly men were in a veritable panic of fear, which

contrasted strangely with the calm, resigned attitude of Mary and her

uncle.

"We must get out! Some one must save us!" yelled Field.

"Jump from the window!" cried Melling.

"No, I can't permit that!" declared Mr. Keith, standing in their path.

"It would be sure death! As it is, there may be a chance."

"A chance? How?" asked Field. "Listen to that!"

Through the closed door of Mr. Keith's office could be heard the roar

and crackle of flames, while the very air was now stifling and hot,

filled with acrid smoke.

"We can only wait," said Mr. Keith, and he wet Mary's handkerchief in

the water and handed it to her to bind over her face.

"Is everything all right, Ned?" called Tom, as he turned on a little

more power, so that the Lucifer lunged ahead toward the great pillar of

fire that now reddened the sky for miles around.

"All ready," was the answer. "You only have to give the word when you

want us to let go."

"Let go!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my umbrella, Tom! We don't have to

jump out, do we?"

"He means to let go the extinguisher grenades," said Mr. Baxter. "Shall

we let them all go at once, Tom?" asked the chemist.

"No, drop half when I shoot over the first time. We'll see what effect

they have, and then come back with the rest."

"That's the idea!" cried Ned. "Well, give us the word when you're

ready, Tom."

"I will," was the answer of the young inventor, and with keen eyes he

began to set the automatic gages so those in charge of the grenades

would be able to drop them most effectively.

The flames were mounting higher and higher above the ill-fated Landmark

Building. It was a "land-mark" now, for miles around--a fearsome mark,

indeed.

"I hope every one is out of the place," said Ned, as the airship

approached nearer and the fierceness of the fire was more manifest.

"Bless my thermometer, you're right!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "I don't see

how any one could live in that furnace."

Seen from above it appeared that the fire was engulfing the whole

building, while, as a matter of fact, only the central portion was yet

blazing. But it was only a question of time when the remainder would

ignite.

And it was to this fact--that the fire was rushing up the stairway and

elevator shafts as up a chimney--that Mary and her uncle, as well as

Field and Melling, owed their temporary safety.

Had Tom known that the girl he loved was in such direful danger, it is

doubtful if his hand would have been as steady as it was on throttle

and steering wheel. But not a muscle or nerve quivered. To Tom it was

but carrying out a prearranged task. He was going to extinguish a great

blaze, or attempt to do so, by means of his aerial fire-fighting

apparatus. And his previous tests had given him confidence in his

device. His one regret was that the fire department of the city that

was contemplating the purchase of certain rights in his invention could

not witness what he was about to do.

"But they'll hear of it," declared Ned, when Tom voiced this idea to

his chum.

Nearer and nearer to the up-spouting column of flames the airship

winged her way. Tense and alert, Tom sat at the wheel guiding his craft

with her load of fire-defying chemicals. Behind him were Ned, Mr. Damon

and Mr. Baxter, ready to drop the grenades at the word.

"Getting close, Tom!" called Ned, as they could all feel the heat of

the conflagration in the Landmark Building, which now seemed doomed.

"You'll not dare cross it too low down, will you?"

"No, I'll have to keep pretty well up," was the answer. "There's a

current of air over that fire which might turn us turtle."

Heat creates a draft, sucking in colder air from below, and making an

upward-rushing column which, in the case of a big blaze, is very

powerful. Tom knew he had to avoid this.

It was now almost time to act. In another few seconds they would be

sailing directly into the path of the up-spouting flames. Realizing

that to do this at too low an elevation would result in disaster, Tom

sent his craft upward at a sharp angle. Then he turned to call to his

companions.

"Be ready when I give the word!"

"All set and ready!" answered Ned, and the others signified their

attention to the command that soon was to be given.

Having attained what he considered a sufficient elevation, Tom headed

the Lucifer straight toward the up-spouting column of fire and smoke.

If ever his craft of the air was to justify her name it was now!

Straight and true as an arrow she headed for the fiery pillar! Hotter

and hotter grew the air! The darkness of the night was lighted by the

awful fire, which rendered objects in the street clear and distinct.

But Tom and his friends had little time for such observation.

"Get ready!" cried the young inventor, as he felt a rush of heat across

his face, partly protected, as it was, by great goggles.

"All ready!" shouted Ned.

"Let go!" cried Tom, and with a click of springs the fire extinguishers

dropped from the bottom of the Lucifer into the very heart of the

flames in the Landmark Building.

There was a blast as from a furnace seventy times heated, a choking and

gasping for breath on the part of the occupants of the airship, a

shriveling, as it seemed, of the naked flesh, and then, when it

appeared that all of them must be engulfed in the great heat, the

airship passed out of the zone of fire.

A rush of cool air followed, reviving them all, and then, when out of

the swirls of smoke, Ned, looking back, cried:

"Good work, Tom! Good work!"

"Did we hit it?" cried the young inventor. "She's half gone!" declared

Mr. Baxter. "Can you give her the rest of the load?"

"I'm going to try!" declared Tom.

"Bless my bank balance!" shouted Mr. Damon, "are we going through that

awful furnace again?"

"It will not be so bad this time," observed Ned. "The fire is half out

now. Tom's stuff did the trick!"

Indeed it was evident, as Tom sent the Lucifer around in a sharp turn,

that the fire had been largely smothered by the gas that now lay over

it like a wet blanket. But there was still some fire spouting up.

"Give her all we have!" yelled Tom, as, once more, he prepared to cross

the zone of fire.

"Right," sang out Ned.

Once more the Lucifer swept over the burning building. Down shot the

remaining grenades, falling into the mass of flames and bursting,

though the reports could not be heard because of the tumult in the

streets below. For the firemen and spectators had seen the sudden dying

down of the fire, they had caught sight of a shadowy shape in the

night, hovering over the blazing building, and they wondered what it

all meant.

"How is it?" asked Tom, as he guided the craft back to get a view of

his work.

"That settles it!" answered Ned. "There isn't fire enough now to broil

a beefsteak!"

This was not exactly true, for the blaze was not entirely subdued. But

the flames had all been killed off in the higher parts of the Landmark

Building, and what remained could easily be dealt with by the firemen

on the ground. They proceeded to make short work of the remainder of

the conflagration, the while wondering who had so effectively aided

them from the clouds.

"Well," observed Tom, as he saw how effectively he had smothered the

great fire, "it's of no use to go on now. I haven't an ounce of

chemical left on board. I can't give the demonstration that I planned

for tomorrow."

"You've given a better demonstration here than you ever could have in

the other city," declared Mr. Baxter. "I fancy this will be all the

test needed, Tom Swift!"

"Perhaps. I hope so. But we may as well land and see from the ground

the effect of our work. I'd also like to inquire if any one was hurt.

Let's go down."

It was rather ticklish work, making a landing in the midst of a

populous city, and at night. But as it happened, there had been a

number of buildings razed in the vicinity of the Landmark structure,

and there was a large, vacant level space. Also several of the city's

fire department searchlights were focused around the burning structure,

and when it became evident that an airship was going to land--though as

yet none guessed whose it was--the searchlights were turned on the

vacant spot and Tom was able to make a good landing, his own powerful

searchlight giving effective aid.

"What did you do that put out the fire?" demanded the chief of the

Newmarket department, as he rushed up with a crowd of others when Tom

and his friends alighted.

"I dropped a few grenades down that chimney," modestly answered the

young inventor.

"A few grenades! Say, you must have turned a whole river of them

loose!" cried the delighted chief. "It doused the fire quicker than I

ever saw one put out in all my life!"

"I'm glad I was successful," said Tom. "But was any one in the

building?"

"Yes, a few," answered a policeman, who was trying to keep the crowd

back from the airship. "They're bringing them out now."

"Killed?" gasped Tom.

"No. But some of them are badly hurt," the officer answered. "There

was one young lady and a man named Barton Keith--"

"Barton Keith!" shouted Tom, springing forward. "Was he--Who was the

young lady? I--I--"

But at that moment there was a stir in the crowd about the building, in

which only a little fire flow remained, and through the throng came a

disheveled and smoke-blackened young lady and a man whose clothing was

also greatly disarrayed.

"Mary!" cried the young inventor.

"Tom!" gasped Mary Nestor. "How did you get here?"

"I came to put out the fire," was the answer, and Tom cooled down now

that he saw Mary was unharmed. "How did you happen to be in the

building?"

"I was in Uncle Barton's office when the fire broke out," answered

Mary, "and we were trapped. We had to stay there, with two men from the

floor above."

"Yes, and if they had stayed with us they wouldn't have been hurt,"

said Mr. Keith. "But, as it was, they rushed out and tried to get down

the stairs. They were caught in the draft and badly burned, I believe.

They are bringing them out now."

Two stretchers, on which lay inert forms, were borne through the now

silent crowd by firemen and police officers, and taken to waiting

ambulances.

"That's Field and Melling," said Mr. Keith to Tom. "They had offices

just above me, and they were trapped, as were Mary and I. They acted

like big cowards, too, though I hope they're not badly hurt. We stayed

inside my office, and we were just giving up the hope of rescue when

the fire seemed suddenly to die down."

"I should say it was sudden!" cried the enthusiastic local chief. "It

was the chemicals from this young man's airship that did the trick!"

"Oh, Tom, was it your new machine?" asked Mary.

"Yes," was the answer. "I was on my way to give a test tomorrow in

Denton when I saw this fire. I didn't know you were in it, though,

Mary."

"Oh, but I'm glad you came," she said. "It was just--awful!" and she

clung to Tom's arm, trembling.

When Field and Melling, whose rash conduct had caused them to be

severely but not fatally burned, had been taken to a hospital and the

fire was declared to be practically out, Tom made arrangements to leave

his airship in the city field all night.

"And you and your friends can come to Uncle Jasper's house," said Mary.

"Of course!" said Uncle Jasper himself, who had arrived on the scene,

attracted to the fire by the news that his niece and Mr. Keith were in

danger. "Lots of room! Come along! We'll celebrate your rescue."

So the crew of the fire-fighting Lucifer went with Mary, while the

firemen, after again thanking Tom most enthusiastically, kept on

playing, as a precaution, their streams of water on the still hot

building.

Only the central portion of the structure, the stairs and elevator

shafts, were burned away. The strong upward draft had kept the fire

from spreading much to either side.

"It certainly was a fierce blaze, and I'm glad my chemicals took such

prompt effect," said Tom. "I shall not fear any test after this."

It was the day following the night of excitement, and Tom and his

friends, at the invitation of the fire department of Newmarket, were

inspecting what was left of the Landmark Building--and there was

considerable left--though access to the upper floors was to be had only

by ladders, down which Mary and her uncle, Barton Keith, had been

carried.

"Here are my offices," said Mr. Keith, who accompanied Tom, Ned, Mr.

Damon and Mr. Baxter, as he ushered them into his suite of rooms.

"Bless my fountain pen! nothing is burned here," cried the eccentric

man.

"No, the flames just shot upward," explained the fire chief, who was

leading the party. "But I think those chemicals of yours would have

been just as effective, Mr. Swift, if the fire had mushroomed out more."

"It was hot enough as it was," answered Tom, with a grim laugh.

"Bless my thermometer, too hot--too hot by far!" exclaimed Tom Swift's

eccentric friend, and to this Ned nodded an amused agreement.

An exclamation from Mr. Baxter attracted the attention of all in Mr.

Keith's office. The chemist picked up from the floor a bundle of papers.

"Here is a bundle of documents that some one has dropped, Mr. Keith,"

he said. "I guess you forgot to put it in your safe. Why--why--no--they

aren't yours! They're mine. Here are my missing dye formulae! The secret

papers I've been searching for so long! The ones I thought Field and

Melling had!" cried Mr. Baxter. "How--how did they get here?" and,

wonderingly, he looked at the bundle of papers he had discovered in such

a strange manner.

CHAPTER XXV

THE LIGHT OF DAY

"What's that? Your dye formulae here in my office?" cried Mr. Keith,

for he had heard something of the chemist's loss, though he did not

directly associate Field and Melling with it.

"That's what this is! The very papers, containing all the rare secrets,

for which I have been so at a loss!" cried the delighted old man. "Now

I can give to the world the dyes for which it has long been waiting!

Oh, Tom Swift, you did more than you knew when you put out this fire!"

and he hugged the bundle of smoke-smelling papers to his breast.

"But how did they get here?" asked the young inventor. "I know that

Field and Melling had offices in this building. They were starting a

new dye concern, and, though Mr. Baxter and I suspected them of having

stolen his secret, we couldn't prove it."

"But we can now!" cried Mr. Baxter. "Though I don't know that I'll

bother even to accuse them, as long as I have back my previous papers.

I see how it happened. They had the formulae in their office. They

rushed out with the documents, and, when they found they couldn't get

past this floor, they went into Mr. Keith's office. There, in their

excitement, they dropped the papers, and you put the fire out just in

time, Tom, or they'd have been burned beyond hope of saving. You have

given me back something almost as valuable as life, Tom Swift!"

"I'm glad I could render you that service," said the young inventor.

"And I had no idea, when I dropped the chemicals, that I was saving

someone even more valuable than your secret formulae," and they all

knew he referred to Mary Nestor.

An examination of the papers found on Mr. Keith's office floor showed

that not one of the dye secrets was missing. Thus Mr. Baxter came into

possession of his own again, and when Field and Melling were

sufficiently recovered they were charged with the theft of the papers.

The charge was proved, and, in addition, other accusations were brought

against them which insured their remainder in jail for a considerable

period.

As Mr. Baxter had suspected, Field and Melling had, indeed, robbed him

of his dye formulae papers. They learned that he possessed them, and

they invited him to a night conference with the purpose of robbing him.

The fire in their factory was an accident, of which they took advantage

to make it appear that the chemist lost his papers in the blaze. But

they had taken them, and though they did not mean to leave poor Baxter

to his fate, that would have been the result of their selfish action

had not Tom and Ned come to the rescue. And it was of this "putting

over" that Field and Melling had boasted, the time Tom overheard their

talk at Meadow Inn.

As Mr. Baxter guessed, the letter delivered to him at Tom's place was

one that the two scoundrels would have retained, as they had others

like it, if they had seen it. But a new clerk forwarded it, and the

evidence it contained helped to convict Field and Melling.

As for the Landmark Building, while badly damaged, it would have been

worse burned but for Tom's prompt action. And though he was more than

glad that he had been on hand, he rather regretted that he could not

give the test for which he had set out.

Eventually the building was made more nearly fire-proof and the

fire-escapes were rebuilt, and Mr. Blake did not lose his money, as he

had feared, though Barton Keith said it was more owing to Tom Swift's

good luck than to Mr. Blake's management.

But, as it developed, nothing could have been more opportune than Tom's

action, for word of his quenching a bigger blaze than he would have had

to encounter in the official test reached the Denton fire department.

As a result there was a conference, and, after only a nominal showing

of his apparatus, it was adopted by a unanimous vote.

But this occurred some time afterward, for, following his rescue of

Mary Nestor and her uncle and the saving of the lives of Field and

Melling, as well as others in the building, by his prompt smothering of

the fire, Tom returned to Shopton.

He and his companions went in the Lucifer, minus, now, the big load of

chemicals, and on landing near the hangar Tom was surprised to see Koku

the giant running toward him. The big man showed every symptom of great

excitement as he cried:

"Oh, Master Tom! He see the light ob day! he see the light ob day now!

Oh, so glad! So glad!"

"Who sees the light of day?" asked the young inventor.

"Black Rad! Eradicate! Him eyes all better now! Pill man take off

cloth. Rad--he see light ob day!"

"Oh, I'm so glad! So thankful!" cried Tom. "How I've wished for this!

Is it really true, Koku?"

"Sure true! Pill man say Rad see K O now." The giant, doubtless, meant

"O K," but Tom understood. And it was true, as he learned more directly

a little later.

When Tom entered the room where Rad had been kept in the dark ever

since the explosion, the colored man looked at his master with seeing

eyes, though the apartment was still but dimly lighted.

"I's all right ag'in now, Massa Tom!" cried Rad. "See fine! I's all

ready to make more smellin' stuff to put out fires!"

"You won't have to, Rad!" cried Tom joyfully. "My chemical extinguisher

is completed, and you did your share in making it a success. But I

never would have felt like claiming credit for it if you had been--had

been left in the dark."

"No mo' dark, Massa Tom!" said Eradicate. "I kin see now as good as

eber, an' yo'-all won't hab to 'pend on dat lazy good-fo'-nuffin

cocoanut!" and he chuckled as he looked at the giant.

"Huh! Lazy!" retorted the big man. "I show you--black coon!"

"By golly!" laughed Rad. "Him an' me good friends now, Massa Tom. Neber

I fuss wif Koku any mo'! He suah was good to me when I had to stay in

de dark!"

Of course it would be too much to hope that Koku and Eradicate never

again quarreled, but for a long time their warm friendship was a thing

at which to marvel, considering the past.

"Well, I guess this settles it," said Tom to Ned one day, after going

over the day's mail.

"Settles what, Tom?"

"My aerial fire-fighting apparatus. Here's word from the National Fire

Underwriters Association that they have adopted it, and there will be a

big reduction of rates in all cities where it is a part of the fire

department equipment. It's been as great a success as Mr. Baxter's new

dye."

"Yes, and he has had wonderful success with that. But what are you

going to do now, Tom? What new line of endeavor are you going to aim

at?"

Tom arose and reached for his hat.

"I am now going," he said, with a grin, "to see somebody on private

business."

"You are going to see Mary Nestor!" broke out Ned.

"I am," said Tom.

And he did.

THE TOM SWIFT SERIES

By VICTOR APPLETON

Uniform Style of Binding. Individual Colored Wrappers. Every Volume

Complete in Itself.

Every boy possesses some form of inventive genius. Tom Swift is a

bright, ingenious boy and his inventions and adventures make the most

interesting kind of reading.

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS

TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE

TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER

TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON

TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AERIAL WARSHIP

TOM SWIFT AND HIS BIG TUNNEL

TOM SWIFT IN THE LAND OF WONDERS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WAR TANK

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS UNDERSEA SEARCH

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC LOCOMOTIVE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT OIL GUSHER

TOM SWIFT AND HIS CHEST OF SECRETS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRLINE EXPRESS

THE DON STURDY SERIES

By VICTOR APPLETON

Individual Colored Wrappers and Text Illustrations by WALTER S. ROGERS

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

In company with his uncles, one a mighty hunter and the other a noted

scientist, Don Sturdy travels far and wide, gaining much useful

knowledge and meeting many thrilling adventures.

DON STURDY ON THE DESERT OF MYSTERY;

An engrossing tale of the Sahara Desert, of encounters with wild

animals and crafty Arabs.

DON STURDY WITH THE BIG SNAKE HUNTERS;

Don's uncle, the hunter, took an order for some of the biggest snakes

to be found in South America--to be delivered alive!

DON STURDY IN THE TOMBS OF GOLD;

A fascinating tale of exploration and adventure in the Valley of Kings

in Egypt.

DON STURDY ACROSS THE NORTH POLE;

A great polar blizzard nearly wrecks the airship of the explorers.

DON STURDY IN THE LAND OF VOLCANOES;

An absorbing tale of adventures among the volcanoes of Alaska.

DON STURDY IN THE PORT OF LOST SHIPS;

This story is just full of exciting and fearful experiences on the sea.

DON STURDY AMONG THE GORILLAS;

A thrilling story of adventure in darkest Africa. Don is carried over a

mighty waterfall into the heart of gorilla land.

THE RADIO BOYS SERIES (Trademark Registered)

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Author of the "Railroad Series," Etc.

Individual Colored Wrappers. Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in

itself.

A new series for boys giving full details of radio work, both in

sending and receiving--telling how small and large amateur sets can be

made and operated, and how some boys got a lot of fun and adventure out

of what they did. Each volume from first to last is so thoroughly

fascinating, so strictly up-to-date and accurate, we feel sure all lads

will peruse them with great delight.

Each volume has a Foreword by Jack Binns, the well-known radio expert.

THE RADIO BOYS' FIRST WIRELESS

THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT

THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION

THE RADIO BOYS AT MOUNTAIN PASS

THE RADIO BOYS TRAILING A VOICE

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE FOREST RANGERS

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE ICEBERG PATROL

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE FLOOD FIGHTERS

THE RADIO BOYS ON SIGNAL ISLAND

THE RADIO BOYS IN GOLD VALLEY

THE RAILROAD SERIES

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Author of the "Radio Boys," Etc.

Uniform Style of Binding, illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself.

In this line of books there is revealed the whole workings of a great

American railroad system. There are adventures in abundance--railroad

wrecks, dashes through forest fires, the pursuit of a "wildcat"

locomotive, the disappearance of a pay car with a large sum of money on

board--but there is much more than this--the intense rivalry among

railroads and railroad men, the working out of running schedules, the

getting through "on time" in spite of all obstacles, and the manipulation

of railroad securities by evil men who wish to rule or ruin.

RALPH OF THE ROUND HOUSE;

Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man.

RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER;

Or, Clearing the Track.

RALPH ON THE ENGINE;

Or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail.

RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS;

Or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer.

RALPH, THE TRAIN DISPATCHER;

Or, the Mystery of the Pay Car.

RALPH ON THE ARMY TRAIN;

Or, The Young Railroader's Most Daring Exploit.

RALPH ON THE MIDNIGHT FLYER;

Or, The Wreck at Shadow Valley.

RALPH AND THE MISSING MAIL POUCH;

Or, The Stolen Government Bonds.

THE RIDDLE CLUB BOOKS

By ALICE DALE HARDY

Individual Colored Wrappers. Attractively Illustrated. Every Volume

Complete in Itself.

Here is as ingenious a series of books for little folks as has ever

appeared since "Alice in Wonderland." The idea of the Riddle books is a

little group of children--three girls and three boys decide to form a

riddle club. Each book is full of the adventures and doings of these

six youngsters, but as an added attraction each book is filled with a

lot of the best riddles you ever heard.

THE RIDDLE CLUB AT HOME

An absorbing tale that all boys and girls will enjoy reading. How the

members of the club fixed up a clubroom in the Larue barn, and how

they, later on, helped solve a most mysterious happening, and how one

of the members won a valuable prize, is told in a manner to please

every young reader.

THE RIDDLE CLUB IN CAMP

The club members went into camp on the edge of a beautiful lake. Here

they had rousing good times swimming, boating and around the campfire.

They fell in with a mysterious old man known as The Hermit of Triangle

Island. Nobody knew his real name or where he came from until the

propounding of a riddle solved these perplexing questions.

THE RIDDLE CLUB THROUGH THE HOLIDAYS

This volume takes in a great number of winter sports, including skating

and sledding and the building of a huge snowman. It also gives the

particulars of how the club treasurer lost the dues entrusted to his

care and what the melting of the great snowman revealed.

THE RIDDLE CLUB AT SUNRISE BEACH

This volume tells how the club journeyed to the seashore and how they

not only kept up their riddles but likewise had good times on the sand

and on the water. Once they got lost in a fog and are marooned on an

island. Here they made a discovery that greatly pleased the folks at

home.