 Chapter 1 of Tom Swift and His Aerial Warship. This is a LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Tom Swift and His Aerial Warship by Victor Appleton. Chapter 1. Tom is Puzzled. What's the matter, Tom? You look rather blue. Blue, say, neg. I'd turn red, green, yellow, or any other color of the rainbow if I thought it would help matters any. Phew. Ned Newton, the chum and companion of Tom Swift, gave vent to a whistle of surprise as he gazed at the young fellow sitting opposite him in a bench covered with strange-looking tools and machinery, while blueprints and drawings were scattered about. Ranged on the sides of the room were models of many queer craft, most of them flying machines of one sort or another, while through the open door that led into a large shed could be seen the outlines of a speedy model plane. As bad as that, at Tom went on Ned, I thought something was up when I first came in, but, if you'll excuse the second mention of the color scheme, I should say it was blue. Decidedly blue. You look as though you had lost your last friend, and I want to assure you that if you do feel that way, it's dead wrong. There's myself from one, and I'm sure Mr. Damon. Bless my gasoline tank, exclaimed Tom, with a laugh in imitation of the gentleman Ned Newton had mentioned. I know that. I'm not worrying over the loss of any friends. And there I eradicate, and cuckoo the giant just to mention a couple of others went on Ned with a smile. That's enough, exclaimed Tom. Doesn't that, I tell you? Well, what is it then? Here I go and get a half-holiday off from the bank, and just at the busiest time, too. To come and see you, and I find you in a brown study, looking as blue as Indigo, and maybe you're all yellow inside from a bilious attack, for all I know. Quite a combination of colors, admitted Tom, but isn't what you think, it's just that I'm puzzled, Ned. Puzzled? And Ned raised his eyebrows to indicate how surprised he was that anything should puzzle his friend. Yes, genuinely puzzled. Has anything gone wrong? And that asked, no one is trying to take any of your pen inventions away from you, is there? No, not exactly that, though it is about one of my inventions that I'm puzzled. I guess I haven't shown you my very latest, have I, Ned? Well, I don't know, Tom. Time was when I could keep track of you and your inventions, but that was in your early days, when you started with a motorcycle and were glad enough to have a motorboat. But, since you've taken to aerial navigation and some marine work, not to mention one or two other lines of activity, I give up. I don't know where to look next, Tom, for something new. Well, this isn't so very new, went on the young inventor. For Tom Swift had designed and patented many new machines of the air, earth, and water. I'm just trying to work out some new problems in aerial navigation, Ned, he went on. I thought there weren't any more spoke, Ned, soberly enough. Come down, none of that exclaimed Tom with a laugh, while the surface of aerial navigation has only been scratched. The science is far from being understood, or even made safe, not to say perfected, as water and land travel have been. There's lots of chance yet. And you're working on something new, asked Ned, as he looked around the shop where he and Tom were sitting. As the young bank employee had said, he had come away from the institution that afternoon to have a little holiday with his jump. But Tom, seated in the midst of his inventions, seemed little inclined to jollity. Through the open windows came the home of distant machinery. For Tom Swift and his father were the heads of a company founded to manufacture and market their many inventions. And about their home were grouped several buildings. From a small plant, the business had grown to be a great tree, under the direction of Tom and his father. Yes, I'm working on something new, it admitted Tom after a moment of silence. And to Ned, he went on, there's no reason why you shouldn't see it, I've been keeping it a bit secret until I had it a little further advanced. But I've got to a point now where I'm stuck, and perhaps it will do me good to talk to someone about it. Not to talk to me, though, I'm afraid, but I don't know about machinery, Tom, would fill a great many books. I don't see how I can help you. And Ned laughed. Well, perhaps you can, just the same, though you may not know a lot of technical things about machines. It sometimes helped me just to tell my troubles to a disinterested person, and hear him ask questions. I've got dad half distracted trying to solve the problem, so I've had to let up on him for a while. Come and see what you make of it. Sure, Tom, anything to oblige, if you want me to sit in front of your photo telephone and have my picture taken, I'm agreeable, even if you shoot off a flashlight at my ear. Or, if you want me to see how long it can stay under water without breathing, I'll try that, too. Provided you don't leave me under too long. Lead the way. I'm agreeable as far as I'm able, old man. Oh, it isn't anything like that, Tom answered with a laugh. I might as well give you a few hints so you'll know what I'm driving at, and then I'll take you out and show it to you. What is it? Air, earth, or water? Asked Ned Newton, before he knew his chums' activities let along all three lines. This happens to be air. A new balloon? Something like that. I call it my aerial worship, though. Aerial worship, Tom? That sounds rather dangerous. It will be dangerous, too, if I can get it to work. That's what it's intended for. But a worship of the aircraft, Ned? You can't mean it. A worship carries guns, mortars, bombs, and... Yes, I know, Interrupted Tom, and I appreciate all that when I called my new aircraft an aerial worship. But, Objective Ned, an aircraft that will carry big guns will be so large that... Oh, mine is large enough, Tom broke in. Then it's finished, crime Ned, eagerly, for he was much interested in his chums' inventions. Well, not exactly, Tom said, but what I was going to tell you was that all guns are not necessarily large. You can get big results with small guns and projectiles now, where high-powered explosives come in small packages. So it isn't all to get rid of a question of carrying a certain amount of weight. Of course, an aerial worship will have to be big, for it will have to carry extra machinery to give it extra speed, and it will have to carry a certain armament, and a large crew will be needed. So, as I said, it will need to be large. But that problem isn't worrying me. Well, what isn't, then, asked Ned? It's the recoil, said Tom, with a gesture of despair. The recoil? Questioned Ned, wonderingly. Yes, from the guns, you know, I haven't been able to overcome that, and until I do, I'm afraid my latest invention will be a failure. Ned shook his head. I'm afraid I can't help you any, he said. The only thing I know about recoils is connected with an old shotgun my father used to own. I took that once, when he didn't know it, and Ned proceeded. It was pretty heavily loaded, for the crows had been having fun in our cornfield, and Dad had been shooting at them. This time, I thought I'd take a chance. Well, I fired at the gun, but it must have had a double charge in it and been rested at that. All I know is that after I pulled the trigger, I thought the end of the world had come. I heard a clap of thunder, and then I went flying over backward into a blackberry patch. That was the recoil, said Tom. The what? Asked Ned. The recoil? The recoil of the gun knocked you over. Oh, yes, observed Ned, rubbing his shoulder in a reflective sort of way. I always thought it was something like that, but at the time, I put it down to an explosion and let it go at that. No, it wasn't an explosion, properly speaking, said Tom. You see, when powder explodes, in a gun, or otherwise, this force is exerted in all directions, up, down, and every way. This went mostly backward, in my direction, said Ned, ruefully. You only thought so, returned Tom. Most of the power went out in front to force out the shot. Part of it, of course, was exerted on the barrel of the gun. That was sideways, but the strength of the steel held it in, and part of the force went backward against your shoulder. That part was the recoil, and it is the recoil of the guns I figure on putting aboard my aerial warship that is giving me such trouble. Is that what makes you look so blue, asked Ned? That's it. I can't seem to find a way by which to take up the recoil, and the force of it, from all the guns I want to carry, will just about tear my ship to pieces, I figure. Then you haven't actually tried it out yet, asked Ned? Not the guns, no, I have the warship of the air nearly done, but I've worked out on paper the problem of the guns far enough so that I know I'm up against it. It can't be done, and an aerial warship without guns wouldn't be worth much, I'm afraid. I suppose not, I agree, Ned, and it is only the recoil that is bothering you? Mostly, but come, take a look at my latest pet. And Tom arose to lead the way to a number shed, a large one in the distance, toward which he waved his hand to indicate to his chum that there was housed the wonderful invention. The two chums crossed the yard, vetting their way through the various buildings until they stood in front of the structure to which Tom had called attention. It's in here, he said, I don't mind admitting that I'm quite proud of it, Ned. That is, proud as far as I've gone. But the gun business sure has me worried, I'm going to talk it off on you. Hello, cried Tom suddenly as he put a key in the complicated lock on the door. Someone's been in here, I wonder who it is. Ned was a little startled at the look on Tom's face, and the sound of alarm in his chum's voice. And of Chapter 1. Chapter 2 of Tom Swift and his aerial warship by Victor Appleton. This is a LibriVax recording. All LibriVax recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVax.org. Chapter 2. A Fire Alarm. Tom Swift quickly opened the door of the big shed. It was built to house a dirigible balloon, or airship of some sort. Ned could easily tell that from his knowledge of Tom's previous inventions. Something along, asked the young bank clerk. I don't know what returned Tom. And then, as he looked inside the place, he breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, it's you. Is it a cuckoo? he asked. As the veritable giants of a man came forward. A semester, it is only cuckoo and your father spoke the big chap with a rather strange accent. Oh, is my father here? asked Tom. I was wondering who had opened the door of this shed. Yes, Tom responded the elder Swift coming up to them. I had a new idea in regard to some of those side guy wires, and I wanted to try it out. I brought cuckoo with me to use the strength on them. That's alright, dad. Ned and I came out to wrestle with that recoil problem again. I want to try some guns on the craft soon, but... You'd better not, Tom, or his father. It will never work, I tell you. You can't expect to take up quick firing guns and bombs in an airship to have them work properly. Better give it up. I never will. I'll make it work, dad. I don't believe you will, Tom. This time you've bitten off more than you can chew to use a homely but expressive statement. Well, then, we'll see. We gain Tom easily. There she is, Ned. He went on. Now, if you'll come around here. But Tom never finished that sentence. For at that moment, there came running into the airship shed, an elderly short stout fussy gentleman, followed by an aged colored man. Both of them seemed very much excited. Bless my socks, Tom, cried the short stout man. There sure is trouble. I should say so am I, Tom, added the colored man. I done did prognosticate that someday the combustible material of which that shed and composed would conflagrate. What's the matter, interrupted Tom jumping forward? Dedicate? Mr. Naiman? What is it? The red shed, cried the short little man. The red shed, Tom? It's on fire, yelled the colored man. Great thunder claps, cried Tom. Come on, everybody on the job, yelled. Coco, pull the alarm. If that red shed goes, instantly the place was in confusion. Tom and Ned, looking from a window of the hangar, saw a billow of black smoke roll across the yard. But already the private firebell was clanging out his warning. And while the work of fighting the flames is underway, I will halt the progress of the story long enough to give my new readers a little idea of who Tom Swift is so they may read this book more intelligently. Those of you who have pursued the previous volumes may skip this part. Tom Swift, the rubber-young in years, was an inventor of note. His taste and talents were developed along the line of machinery and locomotion, motorcycles, automobiles, motorboats, submarine craft, most of all, craft of the air, had occupied the attention of Tom Swift and his father for some years. Mr. Swift was a widower, and lived with Tom, his only son, in the village of Shopton, New York, State. Mrs. Baggart kept house for them, and an aged colored man, eradicate Samson with his mule boomerang, did odd jobs about the Shopton home and factories. Among Tom's friends was Mr. Wakefield Damon from a nearby village. Mr. Damon was always blessing something from his head to his shoes, a harmless sort of habit that seemed to afford him much comfort. Then there was Ned Newton, a boyhood chum of Tom's who worked in the Shopton bank. I will just mention Mary Nester, a young lady I've shopped in, in whom Tom was more than ordinarily interested. I have spoken of Koku, the giant. He really was a giant of a man, of enormous strength, and was one of two whom Tom had brought with him from a strange land where Tom was held captive for a time. You may read about it in a book devoted to those adventurers. Tom took Koku into his service, somewhat to the dismay of eradicate, who was desperately jealous. But poor eradicate was getting old, and could not do as much as he thought he could. So, in great measure, Koku replaced him, and Tom found much use for the giant's strength. Tom had begun his inventive work when, some years before the story opens, he had bargained for Mr. Damon's motorcycle, after that machine had shot its owner into a tree. Mr. Damon was, naturally, perhaps, much disgusted, and sold the affair cheap. Tom repaired it, made some improvements, and in the first following of this series entitled Time Swift and His Motorcycles, you may read of his rather thrilling adventures on his speedy roadsteed. From then on, Tom had passed a busy life, making many machines and having some thrilling times with them. Just previous to the opening of the story, Damon made a peculiar instrument, described in the volume entitled, Tom Swift and His Photo Telephone. With that, a person talking could not only see the features of the person with whom he was conversing, but, by means of a selenium plate and a sort of camera, a permanent picture could be taken of the person at either end of the wire. By means of his invention, Tom had been able to make a picture that had saved a fortune, but Tom did not stop there. With him to invent was as natural and necessary as breathing, he simply could not stop it, and so we find him now about to show to his chum, Ned Newton, his latest patents, an aerial warship, which, however, was not the success Tom had hoped for. But just at present, ever matters than the warship were in Tom's mind. The red shed was on fire. That mere statement might not mean anything special to the ordinary person, but to Tom, his father, and those who knew about his shops, it meant much. The red shed, Tom cried, we mustn't let that get the best of us, everybody at work. Father, not you though, you mustn't excite yourself. Even in the midst of the alarm, Tom thought of his father, for the aged man had a weak heart, and had, on one occasion, nearly expired, being saved just in time by the arrival of a doctor, whom Tom had brought to the scene after a wonderful race through the air. But Tom, I can help, objected the aged inventor. Now you'll just take care of yourself, Father, Tom cried. There are enough of us to look after this fire, I think. But Tom, it's the red shed, gasp, Mr. Swift. I realize that, Dad, but it can't have much of a start yet. Is the alarm ringing, Koku? Yes, Master, replied the giant incorrect, but still did English. I have set the indicator to signal the alarm in every shop on the premises. That's right, Tom sprang toward the door. Eroticate, he called. Yes, ah, he is, answered the color man. I'll go get my mule boomerang right away, and he... Don't you bring boomerang on the scene, Tom yelled. When I want that shed kicked apart, I can do it better than by using a mule's heels. And you know you can't do a thing with boomerang when he sees fire. Not that so, Master Tom, but I could put blankets on him, and... No, you let boomerang stay where he is. Come on, Ned, we'll see what we can do. Mr. Damon. Yes, Tom, I'm right here, answered the peculiar remain, for he had come over from his home in Waterford to pay a visit to his friends. Tom and Mr. Swift. I'll do anything I can to help you, Tom, plus my necktie, you want on. Only say the word. We've got to get some of this stuff out of the place, Tom cried. We may be able to save it, but I can't take a chance on putting out the fire and letting some of the things in there go up in smoke. Come on. Those in the shed where it was housed, what Tom hoped would prove to be a successful aerial warship, rushed to the open. From the upper shops and buildings nearby were pouring men and boys for the Swift plant employed a number of hands now. Above the shouts and yellows, above the crackle of flames, could be heard the clanging of the alarm bell, set ringing by Koku, who had pulled a signal in the airship shed. From there it had gone to every building in the plant, being relayed by the telephone operator, whose duty it was to look after that. My, you've got a big enough firefighting force, Tom, crying that in his chums ear. Yes, I guess we can master it if it hasn't gotten the best of us. Say, it's going some, though. Tom pointed to where a shed, painted red, a sign of danger, could be seen partly enveloped in smoke, amid the black clouds of which shot out red tongues of flame. What have you got it painted red for, net-esked panthingly as they ran on? Because, Tom began, but the rest of the sentence was lost in a yell. Tom had caught sight of her etiquette and the giant Koku, unrelent from a central stand-up pipe, a long line of hose. Don't take that, Tom cried. Don't use that hose, drop it. What's the matter? Is it rotting, Ned wanted to know? No, but if they pull it out, the water will be turned on automatically. Well, isn't that what you want at a fire? Water, Ned demanded. Not at this fire, was Tom's answer. There's a lot of calcium carbide in that red shed. That's why it's red, to warn the men of danger. You know what happens when water gets on carbide? There's an explosion, and there's enough carbide in that shed to send the whole work sky high. Drop that hose, yelled Tom in louder tones. Drop that red Koku. Do you want to kill us all? End of chapter 2. Swift and His Aerial Warship by Victor Appleton Chapter 3 A Desperate Battle Tom's tones and voice were so insistent that the giant and the coloured man had no choice but to obey. They dropped the hose, which, half-unrealed, lay like some twisted snake in the grass. Had it been pulled out all the way, the water would have spurted from the nozzle, for it was of the automatic variety with which Tom had equipped all his plant. But what are you going to do, Tom, if you don't use water? Ask Ned, wonderingly. I don't know yet, but I know water is the worst thing you can put on carbide. Return Tom. All he spoke slowly, his brain was working fast. Already, even now, he was planning how best to give battle to the flames. It needed but an instant thought on the part of Ned to make him understand that Tom was right. It would be well nigh fatal to use water on carbide. Those of you who had bicycle lanterns, in which that not very pleasant smelling chemical is used, know that if a few drops of water are allowed to drip slowly on the grey crystals as settling gas is generated, which makes a brilliant light. But if the water drips too fast, the gas is generated too quickly and an explosion results. In lamps, of course, and in lighting plants, where carbide is used, there are automatic arrangements to prevent the water flowing too freely to the chemical. But Tom knew if the hose were turned on, the fire in the red shed, a great explosion would result. For some of the tins of carbide would be melted by the heat. Yet the fire needed to be coped with. Already the flames were coming through the roof and the windows and door were spouting red fire and volumes of smoke. Several other employees of Tom's plant had made ready to unreal more hose. But the warning of the young inventor shouted to eradicate and cuckoo had its effect. Every man dropped the line he had begun to unreal. Ha, most of Tom so dropped the hose, but how do you good to squirt water on fire without a hose? Answer me, Dad, and eradicate looked at cuckoo. Me, no now, was the slow answer. I guess cuckoo go pull shed down and stamp out fire. Ha, maybe you could do that in cannibal land. Where you all come from, spoke eradicate. But you can't do that, ha? Sides to red shed will blow up soon. There's suffering else in dear except carbide and that's when to go up soon. Dads are, maybe you get your strength. Man mule, boomerang, suggest a cuckoo. Nothing ever hurt him, explosion or nothing. He can kick shed all to pieces and put out fire. That's what I want to do, but must the Tom say I can't? Explained the coloured man. Golly, look at that fire. Indeed the blaze was now assuming alarming proportions. The red shed, which was not a small structure, was blazing on all sides. About it stood the men from the various shops. Tom, you must do something, said Mr. Swift. If the flames once reach that helminite. I know, father, but that explosive is in double vacuum containers and it will be safe for some time yet. Besides, it's in the cellar. It's the carbide I'm most worried about. We don't use water. But something will have to be done. Explain, Mr. Daimon. Bless my redneck tie. If we don't, better get back away, suggested Tom. Something may go off. His words of warning had their effect and the whole circle moved back several paces. Is there anything of value in the shed? Ask Ned. I should say there was, Tom answered. I hope we could get some of them out, but we can't now until the fire dies down a bit at any rate. Look, Tom. The pattern shop roof is catching, shouted Mr. Swift, pointing to where a little spurt of flame showed on the roof of a distant building. It's from Sparks, Tom said. Any danger of using water there, Ned wanted to know. No, use all you like. That's the only thing to do. Come on, you with the hose, Tom yelled. Save the other buildings. But are you going to let the red shed burn? Ask Mr. Swift. You know what it means, Tom. Yes, Father, I know. And I'm going to fight that fire in a new way. But we must save the other buildings, too. Play water on all other sheds and structures. Order the young inventor. I'll tackle this one myself. Oh, Ned, he called. Yes, answered his chum. What is it? You take charge of protecting the place where the new aerial warship is stored. Will you? I can't afford to lose that. I'll look after it, Tom. No harm in using water there, though is there. Not if you don't use too much. Some of the woodwork isn't varnished yet, and I wouldn't want it to be wet. But do the best you can. Take cuckoo and erudite cake with you. They can't do any good here. Do you mean to say you're going to give up and let this burn? Not a bit of it, Ned, but I have another plan I want to try. Lively now, the wind's changing, and it's blowing over toward my aerial warship shed. If that catches, Tom shook his head protestingly, and Ned set off on the run, calling to the coloured man and the giant to get out another line of hose. I wonder what Tom is going to do, news Ned, as he neared the big shed he and the others had left on the alarm of fire. Tom himself seemed in no doubt as to his procedure, with one look at the blazing red shed as if to form an opinion as to how much longer it could burn without getting entirely beyond control. Tom set off on a run toward another large structure. Ned, glancing toward his chum, observed, the dirigival shed. I wonder what his game is. Surely that can't be in danger, it's too far off. Ned was right, as to the last statement. The shed, where was housed a great dirigibble balloon Tom had made, that which he seldom used of late, was sufficiently removed from the zone of fire to be out of danger. Meanwhile, several members of the firefighting force that had been summoned from the various shops by the alarm had made an effort to save from the red shed some of the more valuable of the contents. There were some machines in there as well as explosives and chemicals, in addition to the store of carbide. But the fire was now too hot to enable much to be done in the way of salvage. One or two small things were carried out from a little addition to the main structure and then the rescuers were driven back by the heat of the flames as well as by the rolling clouds of black smoke. Keep away, warn Mr Swift, it will explode soon. Keep back. That's right, added Mr Domen. Bless my powder horn. We may all be going sky high soon and without aid from any of Tom Swift's aeroplanes either. Worn by the aged inventor, the throng of men began slowly moving away from the immediate neighbourhood of the blazing shed. Though it may seem to the reader that some time has elapsed since the first sounding of the alarm, all that I have set down took place in a very short period. Hardly three minutes elapsing since Tom and the others came rushing out of the aerial warship building. Suddenly a cry arose from the crowd of men near the red shed, Ned, who stood ready with several lines of hose in charge of cuckoo, eradicate and others to turn them on the airship shed in case of need, looked in the direction of the excited throng. The young bank clerk saw a strange sight from the top of the dirigible balloon shed along black cigar-shaped body arose, floating gradually upward. The very roof of the shed slid back out of the way as Tom pressed the operating lever and the dirigible was free to rise as free as though it had been in an open field. He's going up, cried Ned, in surprise, making an ascent at a time like this when he ought to stay here to fight the fire. What's gotten into Tom? I'd like to know. I wonder if he can be? Ned did not finish his half-form sentence. A dreadful thought came into his mind. What if the southern fire and the threatened danger as well as the prospective loss that confronted Tom had affected his mind? It certainly looks so, mused Ned, as he saw the big balloon float free from the shed. There was no doubt that Tom was in it. He could be seen standing within the pilot house operating the various wheels and levers that controlled the ship of the air. What can he be up to, Marble Tom? Is he going to run away from the fire? Cuckoo, eradicate and several others were attracted by the sight of the great dirigible, now a considerable distance up in the air. Certainly it looked as though Tom swift were running away, yet Ned knew his chum better than that. Then as they watched, Ned and the others saw the direction of the balloon change. She turned around in response to the influence of the rudders and propellers and was headed straight for the blazing shed, but some distance above it. What can he be planning, wondered Ned. He did not have long to wait to find out. An instant later, Tom's plan was made clear to his chum. He saw Tom circling over the burning red shed and then the bank clerk saw what looked like fine rain dropping from the lower part of the balloon straight into the flames. He can't be dousing water on from up above there. Reason, Ned. Pouring water on carbide from a height is just as bad as spurting it on from a hose, though perhaps not so dangerous to the persons doing it. But it can't be. By Joe, suddenly exclaimed Ned, as he had a better view of what was going on. It's sand, that's what it is. Tom is giving battle to the flames with sand from the ball-ass bags of the dirigible. Hooray, that's the ticket. Sand, the only thing saved to use in case of an explosive chemical fire. Fine for you, Tom Swift, fine. End of Chapter 3. Chapter 4 of Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship by Victor Appleton Chapter 4. Suspicions High up aloft over the blazing red shed with its dangerous contents that any moment might explode, Tom Swift continued to hold his big dirigible balloon as near the flames as possible. And as he stood outside on the small deck in front of the pilot house, where were located the various controls, the inventor pulled the levers that emptied bag after bag of pine sand on the spouting flames that already were beginning to die down as a result of this effectual quenching. Tom's done the trick, yelled Ned, paying little attention now to the big airship shed since he saw that the danger was about over. That's what he sure have done, agreed eradicate. My old mule boomerang couldn't have done any better. Ha! Your mule afraid of fire," remarked Coco. What's that? My mule afraid of fire, cried the colored man. Look here, you great big overgrown specimen of equilateral quadruped. I'll have you all understand when you all speak that way about a friend of mine that you— That'll do, Rad, broken Ned with a laugh. He knew that when Tom's helper grew excited on the subject of his mule there was no stopping him, and boomerang was a point on which eradicate and Coco were always arguing. The fire is under control now. Yes, it seems to have gone visiting, observed Coco. Visiting, queried Ned, in some surprise, yes, that is, it is going out, went on Coco. Oh, I understand, laughed Ned. Yes, and I hope it doesn't pay us another visit soon. Oh, look at Tom, would you? He cried, for the young aviator had swung his ship about over the flames to bring another row of sandbags directly above a place where the fire was hottest. Down showered more sand from the bags which Tom opened. No fire could long continue to blaze under that treatment. The supply of air was cut off, and without that no fire can exist. Water would have been worse than useless because of the carbide, but the sand covered it up so that it was made perfectly harmless. Moving slowly, the airship hovered over every part of the now slowly expiring flames, the burned opening in the roof of the shed making it possible for the sand to reach the spots where it was most needed. The flames died out in section after section until no more could be seen, only clouds of black smoke. How is it now, came Tom's voice as he spoke from the deck of the balloon through a megaphone? Almost out, answered Mr. Damon, a little more sand, Tom. The eccentric man had caught up a piece of paper and, rolling it into a cone, made an improvised megaphone of that. Haven't much more sand left, was Tom's comment, as he sent down a last shower. That will have to do, hustle that carbide and other explosive stuff out of there now while you have a chance. That's it! cried Ned, who caught his chums meaning. Come on, Coco, there's work for you. Me like work! answered the giant, stretching out his great arms. The last of the sand had completely smothered the fire, and Tom, observing from aloft that his work was well done, moved away in the dirigible, sending it to a landing-space some little distance away from the shed once it had arisen. It was impossible to drop it back again through the roof of the hangar, as the balloon was of such bulk that even a little breeze would deflect it so that it could not be accurately anchored. But Tom had it under very good control, and soon it was being held down on the ground by some of his helpers. As all the sand ballast had been allowed to run out, Tom was obliged to open the gas valves and let some of the lifting vapor escape, or he could not have descended. Come on now, cried the inventor, as he leaped from the deck of his sky-craft. Let's clean out the red shed. That fire is only smothered, and there may be sparks smoldering under that sand which will burst into flame if we're not careful. Let's get the explosives out of the way. Bless my insurance policy, yes! exclaimed Mr. Damon. That was a fine move of yours. It was the only way I could think of to put out the fire, Tom replied. I knew water was out of the question, and sand was the next thing. But I didn't know where to get any until I happened to think of the ballast bags of my dirigible. Then I knew, if I could get above the fire, I could do the trick. I had to fly pretty high, though, as the fire was hot, and I was afraid it might explode the gas bag and wreck me. You were taking a chance, remarked Ned. Oh, well, you have to take chances in this business, observed Tom with a smile. Now then, let's finish this work. The sand, falling from the ballast bags of the dirigible, had so effectually quenched the fire that it was soon cool enough to permit close approach. Cocu, Tom, and some of the men who best knew how to handle the explosives, were soon engaged in the work of salvage. I wish I could help you, Tom, said his aged father. I don't seem able to do anything but stand here and look on. And he gazed about him rather sadly. Never you mind, Dad, Tom exclaimed, we'll get along all right now. You'd better go up to the house. Mr. Damon will go with you. Yes, of course, exclaimed the old man, catching a wink from Tom, who wanted his father not to get too excited on account of his weak heart. Come along, Professor Swift, the danger is all over. All right, asserted the aged inventor with a look at the still-smoking shed. And, Dad, when you haven't anything else to do, went on Tom, rather whimsically. You might be thinking up some plan to take up the recoil of those guns on my aerial warship. I confess I am clean stumped on that point. Your aerial warship will never be a success, declared Mr. Swift. You might as well give that up, Tom. Don't you believe it, Dad? cried Tom, with more of a jolly air of one chum toward another than as though the talk was between father and son. You solve the recoil problem for me, and I'll take care of the rest and make the air warship sail. But we've got something else to do just now, lively boys. While Mr. Swift, taking Mr. Damon's arm, walked toward the house, Tom, Ned, Koku, and some of the workmen began carrying out the explosives which had so narrowly escaped the fire. With long hooks the men pulled the shed apart, where the side walls had partly been burned through. Tom maintained an efficient firefighting force at his works, and the men had the proper tools with which to work. Soon large openings were made on three sides of the red shed, or rather what was left of it, and through these the dangerous chemicals and carbide, in sheet-iron cans, were carried out to a place of safety. In a little while nothing remained but a heap of hot sand, some charred embers, and certain material that had been burned. Much lost, Tom? asked Ned as they surveyed the ruins. They were both black and grimy, tired and dirty, but there was a great sense of satisfaction. Well, yes, there's more lost than I like to think of," answered Tom slowly, but it would have been a heap site worse if the stuff had gone up. Still, I can replace what I've lost, except a few models I kept in this place. I really oughtn't to have stored them here, since I've been working on my new aerial warship I have sort of let other matters slide. I intended to make the red shed nothing but a storehouse for explosive chemicals, but I still had some of my plans and models in it when it caught. Only for the sand the whole place might have gone," said Ned in a low voice. Yes, it's lucky I had plenty of ballast aboard the dirigible. You see, I've been running it alone lately, and I had to take on plenty of sand to make up for the weight of the several passengers I usually carry, so I had plenty of stuff to shower down on the fire. I wonder how it started anyhow. I must investigate this." Mr. Damon and Eradicate seemed to have seen it first," remarked Ned. Yes, at least they gave the alarm. Guess I'll ask Eradicate how he happened to notice. Oh, I say, rad!" Tom called to the colored man. Yes, sir, Massa Tom, eyes are coming." The darky cried as he finished piling up at a safe distance from the fire a number of cans of carbide. How'd you happen to see the red-shadow blaze, Tom asked? Why, it was just dish-y away, Massa Tom, began the colored man. I'd just been feeding my mule boomerang. He were powerful hungry boomerang were, and when I gave him some oats with a carrot sliced up in him, no, hold on, did I give him a carrot today or was it yesterday? I done forgot. If it was yesterday, I'd done give him carrot. I remember now, because— Oh, never mind the carrot, or boomerang either, rad! broken, Tom. I'm asking you about the fire. And I was telling you, Massa Tom," declared Eradicate, with a rather reproachful look at his master. But I wanted to do it right and proper. I was coming from boomerang stable, and I see southern reds bounding up at one corner of the red shed. I knowed it were fire right away, and I yelled. Yes, I heard you yell, Tom said, but what I wanted to know is, did you see anyone near the red shed at the time? No, Massa Tom, I done didn't. I wonder if Mr. Damon did. I must ask him, went on the young inventor. Come on, Ned, we'll go up to the house. Everything is all right here, I think. Whew! But that was some excitement. And I didn't show you my aerial warship after all, nor have you settled that recoil problem for me. I'm enough, I guess," responded Ned. You sure did have a lucky escape, Tom. That's right. Well, Koku, what is it? For the giant had approached holding out something in his hand. Koku found this in red shed, went on the giant, holding out a round blackened object. Maybe him powder go bang bang. Oh! You think it's something explosive, eh? asked Tom as he took the object from the giant. Koku no think much was the answer. Him look funny. Tom did not speak for a moment. Then he cried, Look funny! I should say it did. See here, Ned, if this isn't suspicious, I'll eat my hat. And Tom beckoned excitedly to his chum, who had walked on a little in advance. End of Chapter 4 Recorded by Rachel Ellen. July 2007 Chapter 5 of Tom Swift and His Aerial Warship This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Tom Swift and His Aerial Warship by Victor Appleton Chapter 5 A Queer Stranger What Tom Swift held in his hand looked like a small cannon-ball, but it could not have been solid or the young aviator would not so easily have held it out at arm's length for his friend Ned Newton to look at. This puts a different face on it, Ned. Tom went on as he turned the object over. Is that likely to go off? The bank clerk asked as he came to a halt a little distance from his friend. Go off? No, it's done all the damage it could, I guess. Damage? It looks to me as though it had suffered the most damage itself. What is it, one of your models? Looks like a bomb to me. And that's what it is, Ned. Not one of those you're going to use on your aerial warship, is it, Tom? Not exactly. I never saw this before, but it's what started the fire in the red shed, all right. I'm sure of that. Do you really mean it? cried Ned. I sure do. Well, if that's the case, I wouldn't leave such dangerous things around where there are explosives, Tom. I didn't, Ned. I wouldn't have had this within a hundred miles of my shed if I could have had my way. It's a fire-bomb, and was set to go off at a certain time. Only I think something went wrong, and the bomb started a fire ahead of time. If it had worked at night, when we were all asleep, we might not have put the fire out so easily. This sure is suspicious. I'm glad you found this, Coco. Tom was carefully examining the bomb, as Ned had correctly named it. The bank clerk, now that he was assured by his chum that the object had done all the harm it could, approached closer. What he saw was merely a hollow shell of iron, with a small opening in it, as though intended for a place through which to put a charge of explosives and a fuse. But there was no explosion, Tom, explained Ned. I know it, said Tom quietly. It wasn't an explosive bomb. Smell that? He held the object under Ned's nose so suddenly that the young bank clerk jumped back. Oh, don't get nervous! Laughed Tom, it can't hurt you now, but what does that smell like? Ned sniffed. Sniffed again, thought for a moment, and then sniffed a third time. Why, he said slowly, I don't know just the name of it, but it's that funny stuff you mix up sometimes to put in the oxygen tanks when we go up in the rarefied atmosphere in the balloon or airship. Manganese and Potash, spoke Tom, that and two or three other things that form a chemical combination which goes off by itself of spontaneous combustion after a certain time. Only the person who put this bomb together didn't get the chemical mixture just right, and it went off ahead of time, for which we have to be duly thankful. Do you really think that, Tom? cried Ned. I'm positive of it, was the quiet answer. Why, why, that would mean someone tried to set fire to the red shed, Tom? They not only tried it, but did it, responded Tom, more coolly than seemed natural under the circumstances, only for the fact that the mixture went off before it was intended to and found us all alert and ready. Well, I don't like to think what might have happened. And Tom cast a look about at his group of buildings with their valuable contents. You mean someone purposely put that bomb in the red shed, Tom? That's exactly what I mean. Some enemy, who wanted to do me an injury, planned this thing deliberately. He filled this steel shell with chemicals which, of themselves, after a certain time, would send out a hot tongue of flame through this hole, and Tom pointed to the opening in the round steel shell. He knew the fire would be practically unquenchable by ordinary means, and he counted on it soon eating its way into the carbide and other explosives, only it didn't. Why, Tom, cried Ned, it was just like one of those alarm clock dynamite bombs set to go off at a certain time. Exactly, Tom said, only this was more delicate, and, if it had worked properly, there wouldn't have been a vestige left to give us a clue. But the fire, thanks to the ballast sand and the dirigible, was put out in time. The fuse burned itself out, but I can tell by the smell that chemicals were in it. That's all, Coco, he went on to the giant who had stood waiting, not understanding all the talk between Tom and Ned. I'll take care of this now. Bad man put it there, asked the giant, who at least comprehended that something was wrong. Well, yes, I guess you could say it was a bad man, replied Tom. Ah, if Coco finds Bad Man, bad for that man, muttered the giant, as he clasped his two enormous hands together as though they were already on the fellow who had tried to do Tom Swift such an injury. I wouldn't like to be that man if Coco catches him, observed Ned, have you any idea who it could be, Tom? Not the least. Of course I know I have enemies, Ned. Every successful inventor has persons who imagine he has stolen their ideas, whether he has ever seen them or not. It may have been one of those persons, or some half-mad crank who was jealous. It would be impossible to say, Ned. It wouldn't be Andy Foger, would it? No, I don't believe Andy has been in this neighbourhood for some time. The last lesson we gave him sickened him, I guess. How about those diamond-makers whose secret you discovered they wouldn't be trying to get back at you, would they? Well, it's possible, Ned, but I don't imagine so. They seem to have been pretty well broken up. No, I don't believe it was the diamond-makers who put this bomb in the red shed. Their line of activities didn't include this branch. It takes a chemist to know just how to blend the things contained in the bomb, and even a good chemist is likely to fail, as this one did, as far as time went. What are you going to do about it? Ned asked. I don't know. And Tom spoke slowly. I hoped I was done with all that sort of thing he went on, fighting enemies whom I have never knowingly injured, but it seems they are still after me. Well, Ned, this gives us something to do at all events. You mean trying to find out who these fellows are? Yes, that is, if you are willing to help. Well, I guess I am, cried the bank clerk with sparkling eyes. I wouldn't ask anything better. We've been in things like this before, Tom, and we'll go in again and win. I'll help you all I can. Now, let's see if we can pick up any other clues. Like old times, and Ned laughed, for he, like Tom, enjoyed a good fight, and one in which the odds were against them. We sure will have our hands full, declared the young inventor, trying to solve the problem of carrying guns on an aerial worship and finding out who set this fire. Then you're not going to give up your aerial worship idea? No indeed, Tom cried. What made you think that? Well, the way your father spoke. Oh, dear old dad, exclaimed Tom affectionately, I don't want to argue with him, but he's dead wrong. Then you are going to make a go of it? I sure am, Ned, all I have to solve is the recoil proposition, and as soon as we get straightened out from this fire we'll tackle that problem again, you and I, but I sure would like to know who put this in my red shed, and Tom looked in a puzzled manner at the empty fire-bomb he still held. Tom paused on his way to the house to put the bomb in one of his offices. No use letting dad know about this, he went on, it would only be something else for him to worry about. That's right, agreed Ned. By this time nearly all evidences of the fire, except for the blackened ruins of the shed, had been cleared away. High in the air hung a cloud of black smoke, caused by some chemicals that had burned harmlessly safe for that pall. Tom Swift had indeed had a lucky escape. The young inventor, finding his father quieted down and conversing easily with Mr. Damon, who was blessing everything he could think of, motioned to Ned to follow him out of the house again. We'll leave dad here, said Tom, and do a little investigating on our own account. We'll look for clues while they're fresh. But it must be confessed after Tom and Ned had spent the rest of that day in and about the burned shed, they were little wiser than when they started. They found the place where the fire-bomb had evidently been placed right inside the main entrance to the shed. Tom knew it had been there because there were peculiar marks on the charred wood and a certain queer smell of chemicals that confirmed his belief. They put the bomb there to prevent anyone going in at the first alarm and saving anything, Tom said. They didn't count on the roof burning through first, giving me a chance to use the sand. I made the roof of the red shed flimsy just on that account so the force of the explosion if one ever came would be mostly upward. You know that expanding gases caused by an explosion or by rapid combustion always do just as electricity does, seek the shortest and easiest route. In this case I made the roof the easiest route. A lucky provision observed Ned. That night Tom had to confess himself beaten as far as finding clues was concerned. The empty fire-bomb was the only one, and that seemed valueless. Close questioning of the workmen failed to disclose anything. Tom was particularly anxious to discover if any mysterious strangers had been seen about the works. There was a strict rule about admitting them to the plant, however, and it could not be learned that this had been violated. Well, we'll just have to lay that aside for a while. Tom said the next day when Ned again came to pay a visit. Now, what do you say to tackling with me that recoil problem on the aerial warship? I'm ready if you are," Ned agreed, though I know about as much of those things as a snake does about dancing, but I'm game. The two friends walked out toward the shed where Tom's new craft was housed, as yet Ned had not seen it, on the way they saw a radicade walking along, talking to himself, as he often did. I wonder what he has on his mind, remarked Ned musingly. Something does seem to be worrying him, agreed Tom. As they neared the colored man, they could hear him saying, He sure did have nerve, that's what he did. The idea of asking me all them questions and didn't want to know if I'd sell him. What's that, a radicade? asked Tom. Oh, it's a man I met when I was coming back from the ash dump, the radicade explained. One of the colored man's duties was to cart ashes away from Tom's various shops, and dump them in a certain swampy lot. With an old ramshackle cart and his mule lumarang, the radicade did this task to perfection. A man? What sort of a man? asked Tom, always ready to be suspicious of anything unusual. He were a queer man, went on the aged colored helper. First he stopped me and asked of me for a ride. He was dressed up a gentleman too, and I was sure surprised at him wanting to set my old ash cart, said a radicade, but I'd done was polite to him, and fixed a blanket so as he wouldn't get too dirty. Then he asked me if I didn't work for you, Master Tom, and of course I says it's how I did. Then he asked me about the fire, and how much damage it done, and how he put it out, and he end up by saying he'd talked about my mule lumarang, and he wants to come here this hour and noon and talk to me about it. He nods, eh? cried Tom. What sort of a man was he, rad? Well, a gentleman sort of man, Master Tom, stranger to me, I never seen him a foe. He sure was monstrous polite to old black radicade, and he'd give me a half-dollar too, just for a little ride. But I ain't going to sell boomerang, no indeedy I ain't." And a radicade shook his grey kinky head, decidedly. Ned, there may be something in this, said Tom, in an excited whisper to his chum. I don't like the idea of a mysterious stranger questioning a radicade. End of chapter 5 Chapter 6 Of Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship by Victor Appleton Chapter 6 The Aerial Worship Ned Newton looked at Tom questioningly. Then he glanced at the unsuspicious colored man, who was industriously polishing the half-dollar the mysterious stranger had given him. Rad, just exactly what sort of a man was this one you speak of, asked Tom. Why, he were a genman. Yes, I know that much. You've said it before. But was he an Englishman, an American, or...? Tom paused and waited for an answer. I think he were a Frenchman, spoke eradicate. I done didn't see him eat no frogs' legs, but he smoked a cigarette that had a funny smell, and he sure was monstrous polite. He sure was a Frenchman, I think. Tom and Ned laughed at eradicate's description of the man, but Tom's face was soon grave again. Tell us more about him, Rad, he suggested. Did he seem especially interested in the fire? No saw, Massa Tom. He seemed like he was more special-interested in m'muil boomerang. He done asked how long I had him, and how much I wanted for him, and how old he was. But every once in a while he put in some question about the fire, or about the shops. Didn't he, Rad? Tom wanted to know. The colored man scratched his kinky head and glanced with a queer look at Tom. How you all done guessed that, he asked. Answered my question, insisted Tom. Yes, saw. He done did ask about you and the wooks, every now and then, Rad confessed. But how you all knowed that, Massa Tom? When I were a-telling you all about him asked him from m'muil, done gets me, that's what it's Sue does. Never mind, Rad. He asked questions about the plant. That's all I wanted to know. But you didn't tell him much, did you? Eradicate looked reproachfully at his master. You all done knows me better than that, Massa Tom, the old colored man said. You all know you done give orders for nobody to talk about your projections. Yes, I know I gave those orders, Tom said, with a smile, but I wanted to make sure that they had been followed. Well, I done followed him, Massa Tom. Then you didn't tell this queer stranger, Frenchman, or whatever he is, much about my place? I didn't tell him nothing, saw. I done froed dust in his eyes. Ned uttered an exclamation of surprise. Eradicate is speaking figuratively, Tom said, with a laugh. That's what I means, the colored man went on. I done fooled him. When he asked me about the fire, I said it didn't do no damage at all. In fact, that we rather have the fire than not have it, because it doesn't give us a chance to practice our hose-drill. That's good, laugh, Tom. What else? Well, he done sort of hinted to me if we all knowed how the fire done start. I says is how we did, that we done started ourselves for practice, and that we done expected it all along, and were ready for it. Of course, I know that we're a sort of fairy story, Massa Tom, but then that cigarette-smoking Frenchman didn't have no right to ask him so many questions, did he? No indeed, Rad, and I'm glad you didn't give him straight answers. So he's coming here later on, is he? To see if I was once to sell my mule-bummering, yes, saw. I sort of thought maybe you'd want to have a look at the man, so I told him to come on. Of course, I don't want to sell-bummering, but if he were to offer me a big glob of money for him, I'd take it. Of course, Tom answered, very well, Rad, you may go on now, and don't say anything to anyone about what you've told me. I won't, Massa Tom, promised the colored man, as he went off muttering to himself. Well, what do you make of it, Tom? Asked Ned of his chum, as they walked on toward the shed of the new big aerial worship. I don't know just what to think, Ned. Of course, things like this have happened before, persons trying to worm secrets out of eradicate, or some of the other men. They never succeeded in getting much, I'm glad to say, but it always keeps me worried for fear something will happen, Tom concluded. What about this Frenchman? Well, he must be a new one, and now I come to think of it, I did hear some of the men speaking about a foreigner, a stranger, being around town last week. It was just a casual reference, and I paid little attention to it. Oh, there might be something in it. Do you think he'll come to bargain with eradicate about the mule, Ned asked? Hardly. That was only talk to make eradicate unsuspicious. The stranger, whoever he was, sized Rad up partly right. I surmised when Rad said he asked a lot of questions about the mule. That was only to divert suspicion, and that he'd come back to the subject of the fire every chance he got. And you were right. Yes, so it seems, but I don't believe the fellow will come around here. It would be too risky. All the same, we'll be prepared for him. I'll just rig up one of my photo-telephone machines so that, if he does come to have a talk with Rad, we can both see and hear him. That's great, Tom! But do you think this fellow had anything to do with the fire? I don't know. He knew about it, of course. This isn't the first fire we've had in the works, and, though we always fight them ourselves, still news of it will leak out to the town, so he could easily have known about it. And he might be in with those who said it, for I firmly believe the fire was set by someone who has an object in injuring me. That's too bad, declared Ned. It seems as though they might let you alone if they haven't gumption enough to vent things for themselves. Well, don't worry. Maybe it'll come out all right to return to Tom. Now, let's go and have a look at my aerial warship. I haven't shown it to you yet. Then we'll get ready for that mysterious Frenchman if he comes. But I don't believe he will. The young inventor unlocked the door of the shed where he kept his latest, Pat, and at the sight which met his eyes, Ned Newton uttered an exclamation of surprise. Tom, what is it? He cried in an odd voice. My aerial warship was the quiet answer. Ned Newton gave vent to a long whistle, and then began a detailed examination of the wonderful craft he saw before him. That is, he made as detailed an examination as was possible under the circumstances, for it was a long time before the young bank clerk fully appreciated all Tom Swift had accomplished in building the Mars, which was the warlike name painted in red letters on the big gas container that tugged and swayed overhead. Tom, however, did you do it gasp, Ned, at length? By hard work was the modest reply. I'd been at this for a longer time than you'd suppose, working on it at odd moments. I had a lot of help, too, or I never could have done it. And now it is nearly all finished, as far as the ship itself is concerned. The only thing that bothers me is to provide for the recoil of the guns I want to carry. Maybe you can help me with that. Come on now, I'll explain how the affair works and what I hope to accomplish with it. In brief, Tom's aerial warship was a sort of German Zeppelin type of dirigible balloon, rising in the air by means of a gas container, or rather several of them, for the section for holding the lifting gas element was divided by bulkheads. The chief difference between dirigible balloons and ordinary airplanes, as you all know, is that the former are lifted from the earth by a gas, such as hydrogen, which is lighter than air, while the airplane lifts itself by getting into motion when broad, flat planes, or surfaces hold it up, just as a flat stone is held up when you sail it through the air. The moment the stone or airplane loses its forward motion, it begins to fall. This is not so with a dirigible balloon. It is held in the air by means of the lifting gas, and once so in the air can be sent in any direction by means of propellers and rudders. Tom's aerial warship contained many new features, while it was as large as some of the war-type Zeppelins if differed from them materially. But the details would be of more interest to a scientific builder of such things than to the ordinary reader, so I will not weary you with them. Sufficient to say that Tom's craft consisted first of a great semi-rigid bag, or envelope, made of specially prepared oiled silk and aluminum to hold the gas, which was manufactured on board. There were a number of gas-type compartments so that if one, or even if a number of them burst or were shot by an enemy, the craft would still remain afloat. Below the big gas bag was the ship proper, a light but strong and rigid framework about which were built enclosed cabins. These cabins or compartments housed the driving machinery, the gas-generating plant, living, sleeping, and dining quarters, and the pilot house whence the ship could be controlled. But this was not all. Ned, making a tour of the Mars as she swayed gently in the big shed, saw where several aluminum pedestals were mounted, four and aft, and an either beam of the ship. They looked just like places where you intend to mount guns, said Ned to Tom. And that's exactly what they are, the young inventor replied. I have the guns nearly ready for mounting, the recoil, and if I don't take care of that, I'm likely to find my ship coming apart under me after we bombard the enemy with a broadside or two. Then you intend to fight with the ship, asked Ned? Well, no, not exactly personally. I was thinking of offering it to the United States government. Foreign nations are getting ready large fleets of aerial warships, so why shouldn't we? Matters in Europe are mighty uncertain. There may be a great war there in which aerial craft will play a big part. I am conceited enough to think I can build one that will measure up to the foreign ones, and I'll soon be in a position to know. What do you mean? I mean I have already communicated with our government experts, and they are soon to come and inspect this craft. I have sent them word that it is about finished. There is only the matter of the guns, and some of the ordnance officers may be able to help me out with a suggestion, for I admit I am stuck, exclaimed Tom. Then you're going to do the same with this aerial warship as you did when you entered and that immense gun you perfected, asked Ned. That's right, confirmed Tom. My former readers will know to what Ned Newton referred, and those of you who do not may learn the details of how Tom helped Uncle Sam by reading the previous volumes Tom Swift in his great searchlight and Tom Swift in his giant cannon. When do you expect the government experts, Ned asked? Within a few days now, but I'll have to hustle to get ready for them to be back. There are quite a number of details I need to change. Well, now, let me explain about that gun recoil business. Maybe you can help me. Fire away, laugh, Ned. I'll do the best I can. Tom led the way from the main shed, where the aerial warship was housed, to a small private office. As Ned entered, the door, pulled by a strong spring, swung after him. He held back his hand to prevent it from slamming, and the door closed gently. Ned looked around. Not much surprised, for the same sort of door-check was in use at his bank. But a sudden idea came to him. There you are, Tom, he cried. Why not take up the recoil of the guns on your aerial warship by some such device as that? And Ned pointed to the door-check. End of chapter 6 Chapter 7 Of Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship by Victor Appleton Chapter 7 Warnings For a moment or two, Tom Swift did not seem to comprehend what Ned had said. He remained staring, first at his chum, who stood pointing, to the door. It may have been, and probably was, that Tom was thinking of other matters at that instant. But Ned said again, Wouldn't that do Tom? Check the recoil of the gun with whatever stuff is in that arrangement? A sudden change came over Tom's face. It was lighted up with a gleam of understanding. By Jove Ned, old man, he cried, I believe you struck it. And to think that has been under my nose, or rather over my head, all this while, and I never thought of it. Hooray! That will solve the problem! Do you think it will, asked Ned? Glad that he contributed to something, if only an idea to Tom's Aerial Worship. I'm almost sure it will. I'll give it a trial right away. What's in that door-check? Ned asked. I never stopped before to think what useful things they are, though at the bank, with the big heavy doors, they are mighty useful. They are a combination of springs and hydrostatic valves, began Tom. Good night, laughed Ned. Excuse the slang, Tom, but what in the world is a hydrostatic valve? A valve through which liquids pass. In this door-check there may be a mixture of water, alcohol, and glycerin, the alcohol to prevent freezing in cold weather, and the glycerin to give body to the mixture, so it will not flow through the valves too freely. And do you think you can put something like that on your guns, so the recoil will be taken up? Ned wanted to know. I think so, spoke Tom. I'll check on it right away, and we'll soon see how it'll turn out. It's mighty lucky you thought of that, for I sure was up against it, as the boys say. It just seemed to come to me, spoke Ned, seeing how easily the door closed. If the thing works, I'll give you due credit for it, promised Tom. Now, I've got to figure out how much force a modified hydrostatic valve-check like that will take up, and how much recoil my biggest gun will have. Then you're going to put several guns on the Mars? Asked Ned. Quick firers, at least. Two on each side, and heavier guns at the bow and stern, to throw explosive shells in a horizontal or upward direction. For a downward direction we won't need any guns. We can simply drop the bombs or shells from a release clutch. Drop them on other aircraft? Ned wanted to know. Well, if it's necessary, yes. Though I guess there won't be much chance of doing that to a rival airplane or dirigible. But in flying over cities or forts, they can be dropped very nicely. For use in attacking other aircraft I'm going to depend on my lateral fire from the guns mounted on either beam and in the bow and stern. You speak as though you yourself were going into a battle of the air, said Ned. No, I don't believe I'll go that far, Tom replied. Though if the government wants my craft I may have to go aloft and fire shots at targets for them to show them how things work. Please don't think that I am in favour of that, honestly. I hate it, and I wish the time would come when all nations would disarm. But if the other countries are laying themselves out to have aerial battleships it is time the United States did also. We must not be left behind, especially in view of what is taking place in Europe. I suppose that's right, agreed Ned. Have you any of your guns ready? Yes, all but the mounting of them on the supports aboard the Mars. I haven't dared do that yet with the recoil. Now I'm going to get right to work on that problem. There was considerable detailed figuring and computation work ahead of Tom Swift. I will not weary you by going into the details of higher mathematics. Even Ned lost interest after the start of the problem, though he was interested when Tom took down the door check and began measuring the amount of force it would take up, computing it on scales and spring balances. Once this had been done and Tom had figured just how much force could be taken up by a larger check with stronger hydrostatic valves, the young inventor exclaimed, and now to see how much recoil forces my guns develop. Are you really going to fire the guns, asked Ned? Surely answered Tom. That's the only way to get at real results. I'll have the guns taken out and mounted in a big field, then we'll fire them and measure the recoil. Well, that may be some fun, spoke Ned with a grin. More fun than all these figures, and he looked at the details on Tom's desk. This was the second or third day after the fire in the red shed, and in the interim Tom had been busy making computations. These were about finished. Meanwhile further investigation had been made of the clues leading to the origin of the blaze in the shed, but nothing had been learned. A photo telephone had been installed near Radikate's quarters in the hope that the mysterious stranger might keep his promise and come to see about the mule. In that case he had learned about him, but as Tom feared the man did not appear. Ned was much interested in the guns, and a little later he helped Tom and Koku mount them in a vacant lot. The giant strength came in handy in handling the big parts. Mr. Swift strolled past as the guns were being mounted for the preliminary test, and inquired what his son was doing. It will never work, Tom, never declared the aged inventor when informed. You can't take up those guns in your aircraft and fire them with any degree of safety. You wait, Dad, laugh, Tom, you haven't seen how the Newton hydrostatic recoil operates. Ned smiled with pleasure at this. It took nearly a week to get all the guns mounted, for some of them required considerable work, and it was also necessary to attach gauges to them to register the recoil and pressure. In the meanwhile Tom had been in further communication with government experts who were soon to call on him to inspect the aerial worship with a view to purchase. When are they coming, asked Ned, as he and Tom went out one morning to make the first test of the guns. They'll be here any day now. They didn't set any definite date. I suppose they want to take us unawares to see that I don't frame up any game on them. Well, I'll be ready any time they come. Now Koku, bring along those shells and don't drop any of them for that new powder is freakish stuff. Me no drop any, master, spoke the giant, and loaded the boxes of explosives in his strong arms. The largest gun was loaded and aimed at a distant hill, for Tom knew that if the recoil apparatus would take care of the excess force of his largest gun, the problem of the smaller ones would be easy to solve. Here, Rad, where are you going? Tom asked, as he noticed the colored man walking away after having completed a task assigned to Tim. To feed my mule, boomerang, said the colored man slowly, it's his eating time just now, Massa Tom. Nonsense, it isn't anywhere near noon yet. Yes, sab, Massa Tom, I know that, said Eradicate, as he carefully edged away from the big gun. But I has done changed eating hours of that mule. He had a little touch of indigestion to other day, and I is feeding him different now. So I guess is how you'd have to excuse me now, Massa Tom. Oh well, trot along, laugh the young inventor. We won't need you. Is everything all right there, Coco? All right, Master. Now, Ned, if you'll stand here, went on Tom, and note the extreme point to which the hand on the pressure gauge goes, I'll be obliged to you. Just jot it down on this pad. Here comes someone, remarked the bank clerk, as he saw that his pencil was sharpened. He pointed to the field, back of them. It's Mr. Damon, observed Tom. We'll wait until he arrives. He'll be interested in this. Tom, what's going on? Asked the eccentric man, as he came up. Has war been declared? Just practicing, replied the young inventor. Getting ready to put the armament on my aerial warship. Well, as long as I'm behind the guns, I'm all right, I suppose. Perfectly, Tom replied. Now then, Ned, I think we'll fire. There was a moment of inspection to see that nothing had been forgotten, and then the big gun was discharged. There was a loud report, not as heavy though as Ned had expected, off of smoke, for Tom was using smokeless powder. Only little flash of flame was observed. Catch the figure, Ned, Tom cried. I have it was the answer. Eighty thousand. Good, and I can build a recoil check that will take up one hundred and twenty thousand pounds pressure. That ought to be margin of safety enough. Now we'll try another shot. The echoes of the first had hardly died away before the second gun was ready for the test. That too was satisfactory, and then the smaller ones were operated. These were not quite so satisfactory as the recoil develop was larger in proportion to their size than Tom had figured. But I can easily put a larger hydrostatic check on them, he said. Now we'll fire by batteries and see what the total is. Then began a perfect bombardment of the distant hillside, service charges being used, and explosive shells sent out so that dirt, stones, and gravel flew in all directions. Danger signs and flags had been posted, in the hill, so no one would be in the danger zone. The young inventor was busy making some calculations after the last of the firing had been completed. Coco was packing up the unfired shells, and Mr. Damon was blessing his eardrums, and the pieces of cotton he had stuffed in to protect them, when a tall, erect man was observed strolling over the fields in the direction of the guns. Somebody's coming, Tom, warned Ned. Yes, and a stranger too, observed Tom. I wonder if that can be eradicates Frenchmen. But a look at the stranger's face disproved that surmise. He had a frank and pleasant countenance, obviously American. I beg your pardon, he began, addressing everyone in general, but I'm looking for Tom Swift. I was told he was here. I am Tom Swift," replied our hero. Ah, well, I am Lieutenant Marbury, with whom you've had some correspondence recently about. Oh, yes, Lieutenant Marbury, of the United States Navy, interrupted Tom. He went on, holding out his hand. We are just completing some tests with the guns. You called, I presume, in reference to my aerial worship? That is it, yes. Have you it ready for a trial flight? Well, almost. It can be made ready in a few hours. You see, I have been delayed. There was a fire in the plant. A fire? exclaimed the officer in surprise. How was that? We heard nothing of it in Washington. No, I kept it rather quiet, Tom explained. We had reason to suspect that it was a fire purposely set in a shed where I kept a quantity of explosives. Ha! exclaimed Lieutenant Marbury. This fits in with what I have heard. And did you not receive warning, he asked Tom? Warning? No, of what? Of foreign spies, was the unexpected answer. I am sorry, some of our secret servicemen unearthed something of a plot against you, and I presumed you had been told to watch out. If you had, the fire might not have occurred. There must have been some error in Washington. But let me tell you now, Tom Swift, beyond your guard End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship by Victor Appleton Chapter 8 A Suspected Plot The officer's words were so filled with meaning that Tom started. Ned Newton, too, showed the effect he felt. Do you really mean that? Asked the young inventor, looking around to make sure his father was not present. On account of Professor Swift's weak heart, Tom wished to spare him all possible worry. I certainly do mean it, insisted Lieutenant Marbury. And while I am rather amazed at the news of the fire, for I did not think the plotters would be so bold as that, it is in line with what I expected and what we suspected in Washington. And that was what, asked Tom, the existence of a well-laid plot not only against our government, but against you. And why have they singled me out, Tom demanded. I might as well tell it from the beginning, the officer went on. As long as you have not received any official warning from Washington, you had better hear the whole story. Have you had no word? Well now, I won't be so sure, Tom confessed. I have been working very hard, the last two days, making some intricate calculations. I have rather neglected my mail to tell you the truth. And, come to think of it, there were several letters received with the Washington Postmark, but I supposed they had to do with some of my patents, and I only casually glanced over them. Ah, that was it," cried the lieutenant. It was the warning in cipher or code. I didn't think they would neglect to send it to you. But what good would it do me if I couldn't read it?" asked Tom. You must also have received a method of deciphering the message, the officer said. Probably you overlooked that. The secret servicemen sent you the warning in code, but it would not be found out by the plotters, and, to make sure you could understand it, a method of translating the cipher envelope. It is too bad you missed it. Yes, for I might have been on my guard, agreed Tom. The red shed might not have burned, but, as it was, only slight damage was done. Owing to the fact that Tom put the fire out with the sand ballast from his dirigible," cried Ned, you should have seen it. I should have liked to be there, the lieutenant spoke. But if I were you, Tom Swift, I would take means to prevent a repetition of such things. I shall, Tom decided, but, if we want to talk, we'd better go to my office, where we can be more private. I don't want the workman to hear too much. Now that the firing was over, a number of Tom's men from the shops had assembled around the cannon. Most of them, the young inventor felt, could be trusted, but in so large a gathering one could never be sure. Did you come on from Washington yesterday, asked Tom, as he, Ned and the officer, strolled toward the shed, where it was housed in. Yes, and I spent the night in New York. I arrived in town a short time ago, and came right on out here. At your house I was told you were over in the fields conducting experiments, so I came on here. Glad you did, Tom said. I'll soon have something to show you, I hope. But I'm interested in hearing the details of this suspected plot. Are you sure one exists? Perfectly sure, was the answer. We don't know all the details yet, nor who are concerned in it, but we're working on the case. The Secret Service has several agents in the field. We are convinced in Washington, when on Lieutenant Marbury, when he, Tom and Ned were seated in the private office, that foreign spies are at work against you and against our government. Why against me, asked Tom in wonder? Because of the inventions you have perfected and turned over to Uncle Sam, notably the giant cannon, which rivals anything foreign European powers have, and the great search light which proves so effective against the border smugglers. The success of those two alone, to say nothing of your submarine, has not only made foreign nations jealous, but they fear you, and us, the officer went on. Well, if they only take it out in fear, but they won't, interrupted the officer. They are seeking to destroy those inventions. More than once of late, we have nipped a plot just in time. Have they really tried to damage us, asked Tom, referring to the one he had built and set up at Panama? They have, and now this fire proves that they are taking other measures. They are working directly against you. Why, I wonder? Either to prevent you from making further inventions, or to stop you from completing your latest, the aerial worship. But I didn't know the foreign governments knew about that, Tom exclaimed. It was a secret. Few secrets are safe from foreign spies, declared Lieutenant Marbury. They have a great ferreting out-system on the other side. We are just beginning to appreciate it, but our own men have not been idle. Have they really learned anything, Tom asked? Nothing definite enough to warrant us in acting was the answer of the government man, but we know enough to let us see that the plot is far reaching. Are the French in it? Asked Ned impulsively. The French? Why do you ask that? Tell them about Eradicate and the man who wanted to buy the mule, suggested Ned. Thereupon the young inventor mentioned the story told by Eradicate. He also brought out the fire-bomb and explained his theory as to how it had operated to set the red shed ablaze. I think you are right, said Lieutenant Marbury, and, as regards the French, I might say they are not the only nation banded to obtain our secrets, yours and the government's. But I thought the French and the English were friendly towards us, Ned exclaimed. So they are, in a certain measure, the officer went on, and Russia is too, but in all foreign countries there are two parties, the War Party, as it might be called, and the Peace Element. But I might add that it is neither France, England, nor Russia that we must fear. It is a certain other great nation, which at present I will not name. And you think spy set this fire? I certainly do. But what measure shall I adopt this plot?" Tom asked. We will talk that over, said Lieutenant Marbury. But, before I go into details, I want to give you another warning. You must be very careful about—a sudden knock on the door interrupted the speaker. End of chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Tom Swift and His Aerial Worship by Victor Appleton Chapter 9 The Recoil Check Who is that? asked Ned Newton, with a quick glance at his chum. I don't know, Tom answered. I left orders we weren't to be disturbed unless it was something important. Maybe something has happened, suggested the Navy officer. Another fire, perhaps, or a— answered. The automatic alarm would be ringing before this, in that case. The knock was repeated. Tom went softly to the door and opened it quickly, to disclose, standing in the corridor, one of the messengers employed about the shops. Well, what is it? asked Tom a bit sharply. Oh, if you please, Mr. Swift, said the boy, a man has applied for work at the main office, and you know you left orders there that if any machinists came along we were to— I did, Tom exclaimed. I'd forgotten about that. He went on to Lieutenant Marbury and Ned. I'm in need of helpers to rush through the finishing touches on my aerial worship, and I left word, if any applied, as they often do, coming here from other cities, that I wanted to see them. How many are there? Tom asked of the messenger. Two this time. They both say they're good mechanics. That's what they all say, interposed Tom with a smile. But, though they may be good mechanics in their own line, they need to have special qualifications to work on airships. Tell them to wait, Rodney. Tom went on to the lad, and I'll see them presently. As the boy went away, and Tom closed the door, he turned to Lieutenant Marbury. You were about to give me another warning when that interruption came. You might complete it now. Yes, it was another warning, spoke the officer, and one I hope you will heed. It concerns yourself, personally. Do you mean he's in danger, asked Ned quickly? That's exactly what I do mean, was the prompt reply. In danger of personal injury, if not something worse. Tom did not seem as alarmed as he might reasonably have been under the circumstances. Danger, eh? he repeated coolly. On the part of whom? That's just where I can't warn you, the officer replied. I can only give you that hint, and beg of you to be careful. Do you allow to tell, asked Ned? No, indeed, it isn't that, the Lieutenant hastened to assure the young man. I would gladly tell if I knew. But this plot, like the other one, directed against the inventions themselves, is so shrouded in mystery that I cannot get to the bottom of it. Our secret servicemen have been working on it for some time, not only in order to protect you because of what you have done for the government, but because Uncle Sam wishes to protect his own property, the searchlight, and the big cannon. But, though our agents have worked hard, they have not been able to get any clues that would put them on the right trail. So, we can only warn you to be careful, and this I do in all earnestness. That was part of my errand in coming here, though of course I am anxious to inspect the new aerial warship you have constructed. So, watch out for two things, your inventions, and, more than all, your life. Do you really think they would do me bodily harm, Tom asked, a trifle skeptical? I certainly do. These foreign spies are desperate. If they cannot secure the use of these inventions to their own country, they are determined not to let this country have the benefit of them. Well, I'll be careful, Tom promised. I'm no more anxious than anyone else to run my head into danger, and I certainly don't want any of my shops or inventions destroyed. The fire in the red shed was as close as possible. That's right, agreed Ned. And if there's anything I can do, Tom, don't hesitate to call on me. All right, old man, I won't forget. And now perhaps you'd like to see the Mars, he said to the lieutenant. I certainly would, was the ready answer. But hadn't you better see those men who are waiting to find out about positions here? There's no hurry about them, Tom said. We have applicants every day, and it's early than the hour of my opinion on my new craft. But you must remember that it is not yet completed, and only recently did I begin to solve the problem of mounting the guns. So be a little easy with your criticisms. Followed by Ned and lieutenant Marbury, Tom led the way into the big airship shed. There, swaying about at its moorings, was the immense aerial warship. To Ned's eyes it looked complete enough, but when Tom pointed out the various parts and explained to the government officer how it was going to work, Ned understood that considerable yet remained to be done on it. Tom showed his official guest how a new system of elevation and depressing rudders had been adopted, how a new type of propeller was to be used, and indicated several other improvements. The lower, or cabin, part of the aircraft, could be entered by mounting a short ladder from the ground, and Tom took Ned and lieutenant Marbury through the engine room and other parts of the Mars. It certainly is most complete, the officer observed, and when you get the guns mounted I shall be glad to make an official test. You understand, he went on to Tom, that we are vitally interested in the guns, since we now have many aircraft that can be used purely for scouting purposes. What we want is something for offense, a veritable naval terror of the seas. I understand, Tom answered, and I'm going to begin work on the guns at once. I'm going to use the Newton recoil check, he added. Ned here is responsible for that. Is that so?" asked the lieutenant, as Tom clapped his chum on the back. Yes, that's his invention. Oh, it isn't anything of the sort, Ned objected. I just— Yes, he just happened to solve the problem for me, interrupted Tom, as he told the story of the door spring. A good idea, commented lieutenant Marbury. Tom then briefly described the principle on which his aerial worship would work, explaining how the lifting gas would raise it, with its load of crew, guns, and explosives high into the air, how it could then be sent ahead, backward, to either side, or around in a circle by means of the propellers and the rudders, and how it could be raised or lowered, either by rudders, or by forcing more gas into the lifting bags, or by letting some of the vapor out. And while this was being done by the pilot or captain in charge, the crew could be manning the guns with which hostile airships would be attacked and bombs dropped on the forts or battleships of the enemy. It seems very complete, observed the lieutenant. I shall be glad when I can give it an official test. Which ought to be in about a week, Tom said. Meanwhile, I shall be glad if you will be my guest here. And so that was arranged. Leaving Ned and the lieutenant to entertain each other, Tom went to the mechanics who had applied for places. He found them satisfactory and engaged them. One of them had worked for him before. The other was a stranger, but he had been employed in a large airplane factory and brought good recommendations. There followed busy days at the swift plant, and work was pushed on the aerial warship. The hardest task was the mounting of the guns and equipping them with the recoil check, without which it would be impossible to fire them with the air. But finally one of the big guns and two of the smaller ones were in place, with the apparatus designed to reduce the recoil shock. And then Tom decided to have a test of the Mars. Up in the air, do you mean, asked Ned, who was spending all his spare time with his chum? Well, a little way up in the air, at least, Tom answered. I'll make a sort of captive balloon of my craft and see how she behaves. I don't want to take too many chances with that recoil check, though it seems to work perfectly in theory. The day came when, for the first time, the Mars was to come out of the big shed where she had been constructed. The craft was not completed for a flight as yet, but could be made so in a few days with rush work. The roof of the great shed slid back, and the big envelope containing the buoyant gas, rose slowly upward. There was a cry of surprise from the many workmen in the area, as they saw, most of them for the first time, the wonderful new craft. It did not go up very high, being held in place with anchor ropes. The sun glistened on the bright brass and nickel parts, and glinted from the gleaming barrels of the quick-firing guns. That's enough, Tom called to the men below, who were paying out the ropes from the windlesses. Hold her there! Tom, Ned, Lieutenant Marbury and Mr. Damon were aboard the cars. Looking about to see that all was in readiness, Tom gave orders to load the guns, blank charges being used, of course. The recoil apparatus was in place, and it now remained to see if it would do the work for which it was designed. Already, asked the young inventor, bless my accident-insurance policy, exclaimed Mr. Damon, I'm as ready as I'll ever shall be, Tom, let him go. Hold fast, cried Tom, as he prepared to press the electrical switch, which would set off the guns. Ned and Lieutenant Marbury stood near the indicators to notice how much of the recoil would be neutralized by the check apparatus. Here we go! cried the young inventor, and at the same moment from down below on the ground came a warning cry, Don't shoot, Massa-Tom! Don't shoot, Mamule, boomerang! But eradicate had spoken too late. Tom pressed the switch. There was a deafening crash, a spurt of flame, and then followed wild cries and confused shouts, while the echoes of the reports rolled about the hills surrounding Shopton. CHAPTER X THE NEW MEN What was the matter down there? Was anyone hurt? Don't forget to look at those pressure gauges! Bless my ham sandwich! Thus came the cries from those aboard the Capt of Mars. Ned, Lieutenant Marbury, and Tom had called out in the order named. And, of course, I do not need to tell you what remark Mr. Damon made. Tom glanced toward where Ned and the government man stood, and the pressure recorded on the recoil checks directly after the guns were fired. Mr. Damon, blessing innumerable objects under his breath, was looking over the side of the rail to discover the cause of the commotion and cries of warning from below. I don't believe it was anything serious, Tom, said the odd man. No one seems to be hurt. Look at eradicate! suddenly exclaimed Ned. And his mule! I guess that's what the trouble was, Tom. They looked to where the young bank employee pointed, and saw the old colored man seated on the seat of his ramshackle wagon, doing his best to pull down to a walk the big galloping mule which was dragging the vehicle around in a circle. Woe, dare! eradicate! was shouting, as he pulled on the lines. Woe, dare! that just like your boomerang to run when there ain't no car for it, no how. If I had done wanted you to get on a move, you'd lay down to side the road and go to sleep. Woe, now! He had accidentally frightened the long-eared animal, and he was in no mood for stopping, now that he had once started. It was not until some of the workmen ran out from the group where they had gathered to watch Tom's test, and got in front of boomerang that they succeeded in bringing him to a halt. Eradicate climbed slowly down from the seat, and limped round until he stood in front of his pet. Woe, woe! was a nice one, ain't you? he demanded in sarcastic tones. He had done enough running in a few minutes and a few days, and now I won't be able to get a move out of you. I was ashamed of you, that's what I is. Puffingly ashamed of you. Go along now, and you won't get no oats dish you day. No sa, and highly indignant, Eradicate led the now slowly ambling mule off to the stable. I won't shoot again until you have him shut up, Rad, laughed Tom. I didn't know you were so close when I set off those guns. That's all right, Massa Tom, was the reply. I'd done called to you to wait, but you didn't hear me, I suspect. But it don't matter now. Shoot all you like. Boomerang won't run any more this week. He done run his legs off now. Shoot away. But Tom was not quite ready to do this. He wanted to see what effect the first shots had had on his aerial worship, and to learn whether or not the newly devised recoil check had done what was expected of it. No more shooting right away, called the young inventor. I want to see how he made out with the first round. How did she check up, Ned? Fine as far as I can tell. Yes indeed, added Lieutenant Marbury. The recoil was hardly noticeable, though, of course, with the full battery of guns in use it might be more so. I hope not, answered Tom. I haven't used the full strength of the recoil check yet. I can tune it up more, and when I do, and when I have it attached to all the guns, big and little, I think we'll do the trick. But now, for a harder test. The rest of that day was spent in trying out the guns, firing them with practice and service charges, though none of the shells used contained projectiles. It would not have been possible to shoot these, with the Mars held in place in the midst of Tom's factory buildings. Well, is she a success, Tom? Asked Ned, when the experimenting was over for the time being. I think I can say so. Yes, was the answer, with a questioning look at the officer. Indeed it is a great success. We must give the Newton shock-absorber due credit. Ned blushed with pleasure. It was only my suggestion, he said. Tom worked it all out. But I needed the suggestion to start with, the young inventor replied. Of course something may develop when you take your craft high in the air and discharge the guns there, said the lieutenant. In a rarefied atmosphere the recoil check may not be as effective as at the earth's surface. But in such case doubtless you can increase the strength of the springs and the hydrostatic valves. Yes, I counted on that, Tom explained. I shall have to work out that formula though but on the whole I am pretty well satisfied. And indeed you may well feel that way, commented the government official. The Mars was hauled back into the shed and the roof slid shut over the craft. Much yet remained to do on it but now that Tom was sure the important item of armament was taken care of he could devote his entire time to the finishing touches. As his plant was working on several other pieces of machinery some of it for the United States government had signed for his own use Tom found himself obliged to hire several new hands. An advertisement in a New York newspaper brought a large number of replies and for a day or two Tom was kept busy sifting out the least desirable and arranging to see those whose answers showed they knew something of the business requirements. Meanwhile Lieutenant Marbury remained as Tom's guest and was helpful in making suggestions that would enable the young inventor to meet the government's requirements. Also to get on the track of those spies who I am sure wish to do you harm said the Lieutenant but clues seemed to be scarce around here. They are indeed agreed Tom. I guess the way in which we handled that fire in the red shed sort of discouraged them. Lieutenant Marbury shook his head. They're not so easily discouraged as that he remarked and with the situation in Europe growing more acute every day I'm afraid some of those foreigners will take desperate measures to gain their ends. What particular ends do you mean? Well I think they will either try to so injure you that you will not be able to finish this aerial warship or they will damage the craft itself steal your plans or damage some of your other inventions. But what object would they have in doing such a thing? Tom wanted to know. How would that help France, Germany or Russia to do me an injury? They are seeking to strike at the United States through you was the answer. I am to have such formidable weapons as your great search light, the giant cannon or this new warship of the clouds. But why not as long as the United States does not intend to go to war with any of the foreign nations? Tom inquired. No, it is true we do not intend to go to war with any of the conflicting European nations admitted Lieutenant Marbury but you have no idea how jealous each of these foreign nations is of all the others. Each one fears that the United States will cease to be neutral and aid one or the other. Oh, so that's it, exclaimed Tom. Yes, each nation which may, at a moment's notice, be drawn into a war with one or more rival nations fears that we may throw in our lot with its enemies. And to prevent that, they want to destroy some of my inventions, asked Tom. That's the way I believe it will work out. So you must be careful especially since you have taken on so many new men. That so agreed the young inventor. I do not engage more strangers than ever before for I am anxious to get the Mars finished and give it a good test. And now that you have mentioned it there are some of those men of whom I am a bit suspicious. Have they done anything to make you feel that way, asked the Lieutenant? Well, not exactly. It is more their bearing and the manner in which they go about the works. I must keep my eye on them for it takes only a few discontented men to spoil a whole shopful. I will be on my guard. And not only about your new airship and other inventions said the officer but about yourself personally. Will you do that? Yes, though I don't imagine anything like that will happen. Well, be on your guard at all events, warned Lieutenant Marbury. As Tom had said he had been obliged to hire a number of new men. Some of these were machinists who had worked for him or his father on previous occasions and when tasks were few had been dismissed to go on to other shops. These men, Tom felt sure, could be relied upon. But there were a number of others from New York and other large cities of whom Tom was not so sure. You have more foreigners than I ever knew you to hire before, Tom, his father said to him one day coming back from a tour of the shops. Yes, I have quite a number, Tom admitted, but they are all good workmen. They stood the test. Yes, some of them are too good observed the older inventor. I saw one of them making up a small motor and he was winding the armature a new way. I spoke to him about it and he tried to prove that his way was an improvement on yours. Why, he'd have had it short-circuited in no time if I hadn't stopped him. Is that so, asked Tom? That is news to me. I must look into this. Are any of the new men employed on the Mars, Mr. Swift asked? No, not yet, but I shall have to shift some there from other work, I think, in order to get finished on time. His father said, Why, have you seen anything? Do you?" began the young man, for Mr. Swift had not been told of the suspicions of the lieutenant. Oh, it isn't anything special, the older inventor went on. Only I wouldn't let a man I didn't know much about get too much knowledge of my latest invention. I won't, Dad. Thanks for telling me. This latest craft is sure going to be a beauty. Then you think it'll work, Tom? I'm sure of it, Dad. In doubt.