 Chapter 1 and 2 of Tom Swift and his War Tank. Ceasing his restless walk up and down the room, Tom Swift strode to the window and gazed across the field toward the many buildings, where machines were turning out the products evolved from the brains of his father and himself. There was a worried look on the face of the young inventor, and he seemed preoccupied, as though thinking of something far removed from whatever it was his eyes gazed upon. Well, I'll do it, suddenly exclaimed Tom. I don't want to, but I will. It's in the line of doing my bit, I suppose, but I'd rather it was something else. I wonder. Ha! up to your old tricks, I see, Tom! exclaimed a voice in which energy and friendliness mingled pleasingly. Up to your old tricks? Oh, hello, Mr. Damon, cried Tom, turning to shake hands with an elderly gentleman. That is, elderly in appearance, but not in action, for he crossed the room with the springing step of a lad, and there was the enthusiasm of youth on his face. What do you mean, my old tricks? Talking to yourself, Tom, and when you do that it means there is something in the wind. I hope, as a sort of side remark, it isn't rain that's in the wind, for the soldiers over at the camp have had enough water to set up a rival establishment with Mr. Noah, but there's something going on, isn't there? Bless my memorandum book, but don't tell me there isn't, or I shall begin to believe I have lost all my deductive powers of reasoning. I come in here, after knocking two or three times, to which you pay not the least attention and find you mysteriously murmuring to yourself. The last time that happened, Tom, was just before you started to dig the big tunnel. No, I'm wrong. It was just before you started for the land of wonders, as we decided it ought to be called. You were talking to yourself then, when I walked in on you, and, say, Tom, suddenly exclaimed Mr. Damon eagerly, Don't tell me you're going off on another wild journey like that. Don't. Why? asked Tom, smiling at the energy of his caller. Because if you are, I want to go with you, of course, and if I go it means I'll have to start in as soon as I can to bring my wife around to my way of thinking. The last time I went it took me two weeks to get her to consent, and then she didn't like it. So is it. No, Mr. Damon, interrupted Tom. I don't count on going on any sort of a trip, that is, any long one. I was just getting ready to take a little spin in the hawk, if you'd like to come along. You mean that saucy little airship of yours, Tom, that's always trying to sit down on her tail, or tickle herself with one wing? That's the hawk, laughed Tom. Though that tickling business you speak of is when I spiral, don't you like it? Can't say I do, observed Mr. Damon dryly. Well, I'll promise not to try any stunts if you come along. Tom went on. Where are you going? Asked his friend. Oh, no place in particular. As you surmised, I've been doing a bit of thinking and serious thinking, too, Tom, interrupted Mr. Damon. Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhearing what you said. It was something about going to do something, though you didn't want to, and that it was part of your bit. That sounds like soldier talk. Are you going to enlist, Tom? No. Hmm. Well, then. It's something I can't talk about, Mr. Damon, even to you, as yet, Tom said, and there was a new quality in his voice, at which his friend looked up in some surprise. Oh, of course, Tom, if it's a secret. Well, it hasn't even got that far, as yet. It's all up in the air, so to speak. I'll tell you in due season. But speaking of the air, let's go for a spin. It may drive some of the cobwebs out of my brain. Did I hear you say you thought it would rain? No, it's as clear as a bell. I said I hoped it wouldn't rain for the sake of the soldiers in camp. They've had their share of wet weather, and goodness knows they'll get more when they get to Flanders. It seems to do nothing but rain in France. It is damp, agreed Tom, and come to think of it, they're going to have some airship contest over at camp today, for the men who are being trained to be aviators, you know. It just occurred to me that we might fly over there and watch them. Fine, cried Mr. Damon. That's the very thing I should like. I'll take a chance in your hawk, Tom, if you'll promise not to try any spiral stunts. I promise, Mr. Damon, come on. I'll have Koku run the machine out and get her ready for a flight to camp. It's a good day for a jaunt in the air. Get out the hawk, Koku, ordered the young inventor as he motioned to a big man, a veritable giant, who nodded to show he understood. Koku was really a giant, one of a race of strange beings, and Tom Swift had brought the big man with him when he escaped from captivity, as those will remember who have read that book. Going far, Tom, asked an aged man, coming to the door of one of the many buildings of which the shed where the airship was kept formed one. Not very far, Father, answered the young inventor. Mr. Damon and I are going for a little spin over to Camp Grant to see some aircraft contests among the army birdmen. Oh, all right, Tom. I just wanted to tell you that I think I've gotten over that difficulty you found with the big carburetor you were working on. You didn't say what you wanted it for, except that it was for a heavy-duty gasoline engine, and you couldn't get the needle valve to work as you like. I think I've found a way. Good, Dad. I'll look at it when I come back. That carburetor did bother me, and if I can get that to work well, maybe we'll have something soon that will— But Tom did not finish his sentence, for Koku was getting the aircraft in operation, and Mr. Damon was already taking his place behind the pilot seat, which would be occupied by Tom. Already, are you Koku? asked the young inventor. Already, master. Answered the giant. There was a roar like that of a machine gun as the hawk's engine spun the propeller, and then, after a little run across the sod, it mounted into the air carrying Tom and Mr. Damon with it. Mind you, Tom, no stunts! called the visitor to the young inventor through the speaking tube apparatus, which enabled a conversation to be carried on, even above the roar of the powerful engine. Bless my overshoes, if you try looping the loop with me. I won't do anything like that, promised Tom. Away they soared, swift as a veritable hawk, and soon, after their head unrolled below their eyes a succession of fields and forests, there came into view rows and rows of small brown objects, among which beings like ants seemed crawling about. There's the camp! exclaimed Tom. I see! and Mr. Damon nodded. As they approached, they saw, starting up from a green space amid the brown tents, what appeared to be big bugs of a dirty white color splotched with green. The aircraft, and they have camouflage paint on, said Tom. We can watch them from up here. Mr. Damon nodded, though Tom could not see him, sitting in front of his friend as he was. Up and up circled the army aircraft, and they seemed to bow and nod a greeting to the hawk, which was soon in the midst of them. Tom and Mr. Damon, flying high, though at no great speed, looked at the maneuvers of the veterans and the learners, many of whom might soon be engaging the bush in far off France. Some of them are pretty good, called Tom through the tube. That one fellow did the loop as prettily as I've ever seen it done, and Tom Swift had a right to speak as one of authority. Tom and his friend watched the aircraft for some time, and then started off in a long flight, attaining a high speed, which at first made Mr. Damon gasp, until he became used to it. He was no novice at flying, and had even operated airplanes himself, though at no great height. Suddenly the hawk seemed to falter, almost as does a bird stricken by a hunter's gun. The craft seemed to hang in the air, losing motion as though about to plunge to earth, unguided. What's the matter? cried Mr. Damon. One of the control wires broken was Tom's laconic answer. I'll have to volplane down, sit tight, there's no danger. Mr. Damon knew that was so competent a pilot as Tom Swift in the forward seat, this was true, but nevertheless he was a bit nervous until he felt the smooth gliding motion, with now and then an upward tilt, which showed that Tom was coming down from the upper regions in a series of long glides. The engine had stopped, and the cessation of the thundering noise made it possible for Tom and his passenger to talk without the use of the speaking tube. All right, asked Mr. Damon. All right, Tom answered, and a little later the machine was rolling gently over the turf of a large field, a mile or so from the camp. Before Tom and Mr. Damon could get out of their seats, a man seemingly springing up from some hollow in the ground walked toward them. Had an accident? He asked in what he evidently meant for a friendly voice. A little one easily mended, Tom answered. He was about to take off his goggles, but at sight of the man's face a change came over the countenance of Tom Swift, and he replaced the eye protectors. Then Tom turned to Mr. Damon as if to ask a question, but the stranger came so close, evidently curious to see the aircraft at close quarters, that the young inventor could not speak without being overheard. Tom got out his kit of tools to repair the broken control, and the man watched him curiously. As he tinkered away something was stirring among the past memories of the inventor. A question he asked himself over and over again was, where have I seen this man before? His face is familiar, but I can't place him. He is associated with something unpleasant. But where have I seen this man before? End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Tom's Indifference Did you make this machine yourself? asked the stranger of Tom, as the young inventor worked at the damaged part of his craft. Mr. Damon had also alighted, taken off his goggles, and was looking aloft, where the army aircraft were going through various evolutions, and down below where the young soldiers were drilling under such conditions as far as possible, as they might meet when some of their number went over the top. Mr. Damon was murmuring to himself such remarks as, Bless my fountain pen, look at that chap turning upside down, Bless my ink well. I beg your pardon, remarked Tom Swift following the remark of the man whose face he was trying to recall. It was not that Tom had not heard the question, but he was trying to gain time before answering. I asked you if you made this machine yourself? Went on the man, as he peered about at the hawk. It isn't like any I've ever seen before, and I know something about airships. It has some new wrinkles on it, and I thought you might have evolved them yourself. Not that it's an amateur affair, by any means. He added hastily, as if fearing the young inventor might resent the implication that his machine was a homemade product. Yes, I originated this, answered Tom as he put a new term buckle in place, but I didn't actually construct it, that is, except for some small parts. It was made in the shop. Over at the Army Construction Plant, I presumed, interrupted the man quickly as he motioned toward the big factory, not far from Shopton, where aircraft for Uncle Sam's Army were being turned out by the hundreds. Might as well let him think that, mused Tom, at least until I can figure out who he is and what he wants. This is different from most of those up there, and the stranger pointed towards the circling craft on high. A bit more speedy, I guess, isn't it? Well, yes, in a way, agreed Tom, who was leaning over his craft. He stole a side look at the man. The face was becoming more and more familiar. He had something about it, puzzled Tom Swift. I've seen him before, and yet he didn't look like that, thought the young inventor. It's different somehow. Now why should my memory play me a trick like this? Who in the world can he be? Tom straightened up and tossed a monkey wrench into the toolbox. Got everything fixed? asked the stranger. I think so. And the young inventor tried to make his answer pleasant. It was only a small break, easily fixed. Then you'll be on your way again. Yes. Are you ready? called Tom to Mr. Damon. Bless my timetable, yes. I didn't think you'd start back again so soon. There's one young fellow up there who has looped the loop three times, and I expect him to fall any minute. Oh, I guess he knows his business, Tom said easily. We'll be getting back now. One moment, called the man. I beg your pardon for troubling you, but you seem to be a mechanic, and that's just the sort of man I'm looking for. Are you open to an offer to do some inventive and constructive work? Tom was on his guard instantly. Well, I can't say that I am, he answered. I am pretty busy. This would pay well, went on the man eagerly. I'm a stranger around here, but I can furnish satisfactory references. I am in need of a good mechanic, an inventor as well, who can do what you seem to have done so well. I had hopes of getting someone at the army plant. I guess they're not letting any of their men go, said Tom, as Mr. Damon climbed to his seat in the hawk. No, I soon found that out, but I thought perhaps you? Tom shook his head. I'm sorry, he answered, but I'm otherwise engaged and very busy. One moment, called the man as he saw Tom about to start. Is the Swift Company plant far from here? Tom felt something like a thrill go through him. There was an unexpected note in the man's voice. The face of the young inventor lightened, and the doubts melded away. No, it isn't far, Tom answered, shouting to be heard above the crackling bangs of the motor. And then, as the craft soared into the air, he cried exultingly. I have it! I know who he is! The scoundrel! His beard fooled me, and he probably didn't know me with these goggles on, but now I know him. Bless my calendar! cried Mr. Damon. What are you talking about? But Tom did not answer, for the reason that just then the hawk fell into an air pocket and needed all his attention to straighten her out and get her on a level course again. And while Tom Swift is thus engaged in speeding his aircraft along the upper regions toward his home, it will take but a few moments to acquaint my new readers with something of the history of the young inventor. Those who have read the previous books in this series need be told nothing about our hero. Tom Swift was an inventor of note, as was his father. Mr. Swift was now quite aged and not in robust health, but he was active at times and often aided Tom when some naughty point came up. Tom and his father lived on the outskirts of the town of Shopton, and near their home were various buildings in which the different machines and appliances were made. Tom's mother was dead, but Mrs. Baggart, the housekeeper, was as careful in looking after Tom and his father as any woman could be. In addition to these three, the household consisted of Eradicate Sampson, an aged colored servant, and it might almost be added, his mule boomerang. But boomerang had manners that, at times, did not make him a welcome addition to any household. Then there was the giant cuckoo, one of two big men Tom had brought back with him from the land where the young inventor had been held captive for a time. The first book of this series is called Tom's Swift and His Motorcycle, and it was an acquiring possession of that machine that Tom met his friend Mr. Wakefield Damon, who lived in a neighboring town. Mr. Damon owned the motorcycle originally, but when it attempted to climb a tree with him, he sold it to Tom. Tom had many adventures on the machine, and it started him on his inventive career. From then on he had had a series of surprising adventures. He had traveled in his motorboat, in an airship, and then had taken to a submarine. In his electric runabout he showed what the speed was car on the road could do, and when he sent his wireless message, the details of which can be found set down in the volume of that name, Tom saved the castaways of Earthquake Island. Tom's Swift had many other thrilling escapes, one from among the diamond makers and another from the caves of ice, and he made the quickest flight on record in his sky racer. Tom's wizard camera, his great search line, and his giant cannon, his photo telephone, his aerial warship, and the big tunnel he helped to dig, brought him credit, fame, and not a little money. He had not long been back from an expedition to Honduras, dubbed the Land of Wonders, when he was again busy on some of his many ideas, and it was to get some relief from his thoughts that he had taken the flight with Mr. Damon on the day the present story came to an end. What are you so excited about, Tom? asked his friend, as the hawk alighted near the shed back of the young inventor's home. Bless my scarf-pin, but anyone would think you just discovered the true method of squaring the circle. Well, it's almost as good as that and more practical, Tom said with a smile, as he motioned a cuckoo to put away the aircraft. I know who that man is, and I know who he is. I know who that man is now. What man, Tom? The one who was questioning me when I was fixing the airship. I kept puzzling and puzzling as to his identity, and all at once it came to me. Do you know who he is, Mr. Damon? No, I can't say that I do, Tom. But, as you say, there was something vaguely familiar about him. It seemed as if I must have seen him before, and yet that's just the way it struck me. What would you say if I told you that man was Blakeson, of Blakeson and Grinder, the rival tunnel contractors who made such trouble for us? You mean down in Peru, Tom? Yes. Mr. Damon started in surprise and then exclaimed, Bless my ear mufflers, Tom, but you're right. That was Blakeson. I didn't know him with his beard, but that was Blakeson. All right. Bless my foot warmer. What do you suppose he's doing around here? I don't know, Mr. Damon, but I give a good deal to know. It isn't any good. I'll wager on that. He didn't seem to know me or you either, unless he did and didn't let on. I suppose it was because of my goggles, and you were gazing up in the air most of the time. I don't think he knew either of us. It didn't seem so, Tom. But what is he doing here? Do you think he's working at the army camp or helping make liberty motors for the aircraft that are going to beat the Germans? Hardly. He didn't seem to be connected with the camp. He wanted a mechanic and hinted that I might do. Joe, if he really didn't know who I was and finds out, say, won't he be surprised? Rather, I grieved Mr. Damon. Well, Tom, I had a nice little ride, and now I must be getting back. But if you contemplate a trip anywhere, don't forget to let me know. I don't count on going anywhere soon, Tom answered. I have something on hand that will occupy all my time, though I don't just like it. However, I'm going to do my best. Any way of good-bye to Mr. Damon, who went off blessing various parts of his anatomy or clothing—an odd habit he had. As Tom turned to go into the house, the unsettled look still on his face, someone hailed him. I say, Tom, hello. Wait a minute. I've got something to show you. Oh, hello, Ned Newton. Call back the young inventor. Well, if it's liberty bonds, you don't need to show me any, for Dad and I will buy all we can without seeing them. I know that, Tom, and it was a dandy subscription you gave me. I didn't come about that, though I may be around the next time Uncle Sam wants the people to dig down in their socks. This is something different. And Ned Newton, a young banker of Shopton and a lifelong friend of Tom's, drew a paper from his pocket as he advanced across the lawn. There, Tom swift! He cried, flipping out an illustrated page, evidently from some illustrated newspaper. There's the very latest from the other side. A London banker friend of mine sent it to me, and it got past the sensor all right. It's the first authentic photograph of the newest and biggest British tank. Isn't that a wonder? Ned held up the paper which had in it a full-page photograph of a monster tank. Those weird machines traveling on endless steel belts of caterpillar construction. Armored, riveted, and plated, with machine guns bristling here and there. Isn't that great, Tom? Can you beat it? It's the most wonderful machine of the age, even counting some of yours. Can you beat it? Tom took the paper indifferently and his manner surprised his chum. Well, what's the matter, Tom? Asked Ned. Don't you think that great? Why don't you say something? You don't mean to say you've seen that picture before? No, Ned. Then what's the matter with you? Isn't that wonderful? End of Chapter 2. Chapters 3 and 4 of Tom Swift and his War Tank. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Tom Swift and his War Tank. By Victor Appleton. Chapter 3. Ned is worried. Tom Swift did not answer for several seconds. He stood holding the paper Ned had given him, the sun slanting on the picture of the big British tank. But the young inventor did not appear to see it. Instead, his eyes were as though contemplating something a far off. Well, this gets me, cried Ned, his voice showing impatience. Here I go and get a picture of the latest machine the British armies are smashing up the bush with, and bring it to you fresh from the mail. I even quit my Liberty Bond business to do it, and I know some dandy prospects, too. And here you look at me like a fish, burst out Ned. Say, old man, I guess that's right, admitted Tom. I wasn't thinking about it to tell you the truth. Why not? Ned demanded. Isn't it great, Tom? Did you ever see anything like it? Yes. You did? Cried Ned in surprise. Where? Say, Tom Swift, are you keeping something from me? I mean, no, Ned. I never have seen a British tank. Well, did you ever see a picture like this before? Ned persisted. No, not exactly like that, but... Well, what do you think of it? Cried the young banker who was giving much of his time to selling bonds for the government. Isn't it great? Tom considered a moment before replying. Then he said slowly, Well, yes, Ned, it is a pretty good machine, but... But howling Tomcats! Say, what's the matter with you anyhow, Tom? This is great, but... But me no buts. This is, without exception, the greatest thing out since an airship. It will win the war for us and the Allies too, and don't you forget it. Fritz's barbed wire and dugouts and machine gun emplacements can't stand for a minute against these tanks. Why, Tom, they can crawl on their back as well as any other way. And they don't mind a shower of shrapnel or a burst of machine gun lead, any more than an alligator minds a swarm of gnats. The only thing that makes them hesitate a bit is a Jack Johnson or a Bertha shell. And it's got to be a pretty big one, and in the right place to do much damage. These tanks are great, and there's nothing like them. Oh, yes, there is, Ned. There is, cried Ned. What do you mean? I mean, there may be something like them soon. There may, say, Tom. Now, don't ask me a lot of questions, Ned, for I can't answer them. When I say there may be something like them, I mean it isn't beyond the realms of possibility that someone, perhaps the Germans, may turn out even bigger in better tanks. Oh, and Ned's voice showed his disappointment. I thought maybe you were in on that game yourself, Tom. Say, couldn't you get up something almost as good as this? And he indicated the picture in the paper. Isn't that wonderful? Oh, well, it's good, Ned, but there are others. Yes, Dad, I'm coming, he called, as he saw his father beckoning to him from a distant building. Well, I've got to get along, said Ned. But I certainly am disappointed, Tom. I thought you'd go into a fit over this picture. It's one of the first allowed to get out of England, my London friend said. At instead of enthusing, you were as cold as a clam. And Ned shook his head in puzzled and disappointed fashion as he walked slowly away beside the young inventor. They passed a new building, one of the largest in the group of the many comprising the Swift plant. Ned looked at the door which bore a notice to the effect that no one was admitted unless bearing a special permit or accompanied by Mr. Swift or Tom. What's this, Tom? asked Ned. Some new wrinkle? Yes, an invention I'm working on. It isn't in shape yet to be seen. It must be something big, Tom, observed Ned as he viewed the large building. It is. And say, what a whopping big fence you've got around the backyard. Went on the young banker. Looks like a baseball field, but it would take some scrambling on the part of a backlots kid to get over it. That's what it's for, to keep people out. I see. Well, I've got to get along. I'm a bit back in my day's quota of selling liberty bonds, and I've got to hustle. I'm sorry I bothered you about that tank picture, Tom. Oh, it wasn't a bother. Don't think that for a minute, Ned. I was glad to see it. Well, he didn't seem so. And his manner was certainly queer, mused Ned as he walked away, and turned in time to see Tom enter the new building, which had such a high fence all around it. I never saw him more indifferent. I wonder if Tom isn't interested in seeing Uncle Sam help win this war. That's the way it struck me. I thought surely Tom would go up in the air and say this was a dandy. And Ned unfolded the paper and took another look at the British tank photograph. If there's anything can beat that, I'd like to see it. He mused. But I suppose Tom has discovered some new kind of air stabilizer, or a different kind of carburetor that will vaporize kerosene as well as gasoline. If he has, why doesn't he offer it to Uncle Sam? I wonder if Tom is pro-German. No, of course he can't be. And Ned laughed at his own idea. At the same time it is queer, he mused on. There is something wrong with Tom Swift. Once more Ned looked at the picture. It was a representation of one of the newest and largest of the British tanks. In appearance these are not unlike great tanks, though they are neither round nor square, being shaped in fact like two wedges with the broad ends put together, and the sharper ends sticking out. Though there is no sharpness to a tank, the noses both being blunt. Around each outer edge runs an endless belt of steel plates hinged together with ridges at the joints, and these broad belts of steel plates, like the platforms of some moving stairways used in department stores, moving around, give motion to the tank. Inside, well protected from the fire of enemy guns by steel plates, are the engines for driving the belts, or caterpillar wheels, as they are called. There is also the steering apparatus, and the guns that fire on the enemy. There are cramped living and sleeping quarters for the tank's crew, more limited than those of a submarine. The tank is ponderous, the smallest of them, which were those first constructed, weighing 42 tons. Or about as much as a good-sized railroad freight car. And it is this ponderosity with its slow but resistless movement that gives the tank its power. The tank, by means of the endless belts of steel plates, can travel over the roughest country. It can butt into a tree, a stone wall, or a house, knock over the obstruction, mount it, crawl over it, and slide down into a hole on the other side, and crawl out again on the level or at an angle. Even if overturned, the tanks can sometimes write themselves and keep on. At the rear are trailer wheels, partly used in steering and partly for reaching over gaps or getting out of holes. The tanks can turn in their own length by moving one belt in one direction and the other oppositely. Inside there is nothing much but machinery of the gasoline type and the machine guns. The tank is closed except for small openings out of which the guns project and slots through which the men inside look out to guide themselves or direct their fire. Such in brief is a British tank, one of the most powerful and effective weapons yet loosed against the Germans. They are useful in tearing down the barbed wire entanglements on the Bosch side of No Man's Land, and they can clear the way up to and pass the trenches, which they can straddle and wriggle across like some giant worm. And to think that Tom Swift didn't enthuse over these, murmured Ned, I wonder what's the matter with him. And of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Queer Doings There was a subdued air of activity about the Swift Plant, subdued owing to the fact that it was mostly confined to one building, the new large one, about which stretched a high and strong fence made with tongue and groove boards so that no prying eyes might find a crack, even through which to peer. In and out of the other buildings the workmen went as they pleased, though there were not many of them, for Tom and his father were devoting most of their time and energies to what was taking place in the big new structure. But here there was an entirely different procedure. Workmen went in and out to be sure, but each time they emerged they were scrutinized carefully, and when they went in they had to exhibit their passes to a man on guard at the single entrance, and the passes were not scrutinized perfunctorily either. Near the building, about which there seemed to be an air of mystery, one day, a week after the events narrated in the opening chapters, strolled the giant cuckoo. Not far away, raking up a pile of refuse, was Eradicate Sampson, the aged colored man of all work. Eradicate approached nearer and nearer the entrance to the building, pursuing his task of gathering up leaves dirt and sticks with the teeth of his rake. Then Cuckoo, who had been lounging on a bench in the shade of a tree, called, No more, Eradicate. No more what? asked the negro quickly. I didn't ask for nothing yet. No more come here, said the giant, pointing to the building and speaking English with an evident effort. Masters say no one come too close. Huh, he didn't go for to me, me! exclaimed Eradicate. I can go anywhere as I can. Not here. And Cuckoo interposed his giant frame between the old man and the first step leading into the secret building. You no come in here. Who say so? Me say so. I on guard. I what you call special policeman, detective. No let enemies in. Huh, you as a hot detective, you is. Snorted Eradicate. Anyhow, dem-holders, don't me, me! I can go anywhere, I can. Not here. Said Cuckoo firmly. Master Tom say nobody come near, but workmen who have got writing paper. You no got. No, but I can get one, and I's gonna have it soon. I'll see Master Tom, that's what I will. I guess you ain't the only detective in this place. I can go on guard too. And Eradicate, dropping his rake, strolled away in his temper to see the young inventor. Well, Rad, what is it? Asked Tom as he met the colored man. The young inventor was on his way to the mysterious shop. What's troubling you? It's Dut der Giant. He done says is how he's on guard, a detective, and I can't do not that building to sweep up to refuse. Well, that's right, Rad. I prefer that you keep away. I'm doing some special work in there, and it's... Am I dangerous, Master Tom? I ain't scared. Anybody what can drive my mule boomerang? I know, Eradicate, but this isn't so dangerous. It's just secret, and I don't want too many people about. You can go anywhere else except there. Coco is on guard. Then can't I be, Master Tom? Asked the colored man eagerly. I can guard and detect, same as dat low down, good for nothing, white trash, Coco. Tom hesitated. I suppose I could get you a sort of officer's badge, he mused, half-allowed. That's what I want, eagerly exclaimed Eradicate. I ain't gonna have dat Coco, dat Coconut crowing over me. I can guard and detect as good as anybody. And the upshot of it was that Eradicate was given a badge and put on a special post, far enough from Coco to keep the two from quarreling, and where, even if he failed in keeping a proper lookout, the old servant could do no harm by his oversight. It'll please him, and it won't hurt us, said Tom to his father. Coco will keep out any prying persons. I suppose you are doing well to keep it a secret, Tom, said Mr. Swift. But it seems as if you might announce it soon. Perhaps we may, dad, if all goes well. I've given her a partial shop try-out, and she works well. But there is still plenty to do. Did I tell you about meeting Blakesson? Yes, and I can't understand why he should be in this vicinity. Do you think he has any intimation of what you are doing? It's hard to say, and yet I would not be surprised when Uncle Sam couldn't keep secret the fact of our first soldiers sailing for France. How can I expect to keep this secret? But they won't get any details until I'm ready, I'm sure of that. Coco is a good discourager, said Mr. Swift with a chuckle. You couldn't have a better guard, Tom? No, and if I can keep him and eradicate from trying to pull off rival detective stunts or detective, as Rad calls it, I'll be all right. Now let's have another go at that carburetor. There's our weak point, for it's getting harder and harder all the while to get high-grade gasoline, and we'll have to come to alcohol of low-proof or kerosene, I'm thinking. I wouldn't be surprised, Tom. Well, perhaps we can get up a new style of carburetor that will do the trick. Now look at this needle valve. I've given it a new turn. And Father and Son went into technical details connected with their latest invention. These were busy days at the Swift Plant. Men came and went, men with clearly shaped parcels frequently, and they were admitted to the big new building after first passing, eradicate, and then Coco, and it would be hard to say which guard was the more careful. Only, of course, Coco had the final decision, and more than one person was turned back after eradicate had passed him, much to the disgust of the Negro. Poo! That giant don't know a workman when he sees him, snorted to eradicate. He's so lazy his own self that he don't know a workman. If I seize a spy, Massitom, or a crook, I's gonna get him. Sue his pop. I hope you do, Rad. We can't afford to let this secret get out, said the young inventor. It was one evening when taking a shortcut to his home that Mr. Nestor, the father of Mary Nestor, in whom Tom was more than ordinarily interested, passed not far from the big enclosure which was guarded on the factory side day and night. Inside, though out of sight and hidden by the high fence, were other guards. As Mr. Nestor passed along the fence, rather vaguely wondering why it was so high, tight, and strong, he felt the ground trembling beneath his feet. It rumbled and shook as though a distant train were passing, and yet there was none due now for Mr. Nestor had just left one, and another would not arrive for an hour. That's queer, mused Mary's father. If I didn't know to the contrary, I'd say that sounded like heavy guns being fired from a distance, or else blasting. It seems to come from the swift place, he went on. I wonder what they're up to in there. Suddenly the rumbling became more pronounced, and mingled with it in the dusk of the evening were the shouts of men. Look out! Someone cried. She's going for the fence! A second later there was a cracking and straining of boards and the fence near Mr. Nestor bulged out as though something big, powerful, and mighty were pressing it from the inner side. But the fence held, or else the pressure was removed, for the bulge went back into place, though some of the boards were splintered. I have to patch that up in the morning, called another voice, and Mr. Nestor recognized it as that of Tom Swift. What queer doings are going on here, mused Mary's father. Have they got a wild bull shut up in there, and is he trying to get out? Lucky for me, he didn't. And he hurried on, the rumbling noise becoming fainter until it died away altogether. That night, after his supper, and while reading the paper and smoking a cigar, Mr. Nestor spoke to his daughter. Mary, have you seen anything of Tom Swift lately? Why, yes, father. He was over for a little while the other night, but he didn't stay long. Why did you ask? Oh, nothing special. I just came past his place, and I heard some queer noises, that's all. He's up to some more of his tricks, I guess. Has he enlisted yet? No. Is he going to? I don't know. And Mary seemed a bit put out by this simple question. What do you mean by his tricks? She asked, and a close observer might have thought she was anxious to get away from the subject of Tom's enlistment. Oh, like that one when he sent you something in a box labeled dynamite and gave us all a scare. You can't tell what Tom Swift is going to do next. He's up to something now, I'll wager, and I don't believe any good will come of it. You didn't think so after he sent his wireless message and saved us from Earthquake Island? said Mary, smiling. Huh. Well, that was different, snapped Mr. Nestor. This time I'm sure he's up to some nonsense, the idea of crashing down a fence. Why doesn't he enlist like the other chaps or sell Liberty Bonds like Ned Newton? And Mr. Nestor looks sharply at his daughter. Ned gave up a big salary as the Swift's financial manager, a place he had held for a year to go back to the bank for less, just so he could help the government and the financial end of this war. Is Tom doing as much for his country? I'm sure I don't know. Answered Mary, and soon after with averted face she left the room. Hmm. Queer goings on, mused Mr. Nestor. Tom Swift may be all right, but he's got an unbalanced streak in him that we'll bear looking out for. That's what I think. And having settled this matter, at least to his own satisfaction, Mr. Nestor resumed his smoking and reading. A little later the bell rang. There was a murmur of voices in the hall, and Mr. Nestor, half listening, heard a voice he knew. There's Tom Swift now, he exclaimed. I'm going to find out why he doesn't enlist. End of Chapter 4. Chapter 5 and 6 of Tom Swift and His War Tank This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Tom Swift and His War Tank by Victor Appleton Chapter 5. Is he a slacker? Mr. Nestor, whatever else he was, proved to be a prudent father. He did not immediately go into the front room with their Mary and Tom hastened, their voices mingling in talk and laughter. Mr. Nestor, after leaving the young folks alone for a while, was allowed and a rattling of his paper as he laid it aside, started for the parlor. Good evening, Mr. Nestor, said Tom, rising to shake hands with the father of his young and pretty hostess. Hello, Tom, was the cordial greeting in return. What's going on up at your place? went on, Mr. Nestor, as he took a chair. Oh, nothing very special, Tom answered. We're turning out different kinds of machines as usual, and Dad and I are experimenting, also as usual. I suppose so, but what nearly broke the fence tonight? Tom started and looked quickly at his host. Were you there? he asked quickly. Well, I happened to be passing, took a shortcut home, and I heard some queer goings on at your place. I was speaking to Mary about them and wondering. Father, perhaps Tom doesn't want to talk about his invention. Interrupted Mary, you know some of them are secret. Oh, I wasn't exactly asking for information. Exclaimed Mr. Nestor quickly. I had just happened to hear the fence crash, and I was wondering if something was coming out at me. Didn't know, but what that giant of yours was on a rampage, Tom. And he laughed. No, it wasn't anything like that. And Tom's voice was more sober than the occasion seemed to warrant. It was one of our new machines, and it didn't act just right. No great damage was done, though. How do you find business, Mr. Nestor, since the war spirit has grown stronger? Asked Tom, and it seemed to both Mary and her father that the young inventor deliberately changed the subject. Well, it isn't all it might be, said the other. It's hard to get good help. A lot of our boys enlisted, and some were taken in the draft. By the way, Tom, have they called on you yet? No, not yet. You didn't enlist? Ned Newton tried to, broke him, Mary. But the quota for this locality was filled, and they told him he'd better wait for the draft. He wouldn't do that, and tried again. Then the bank people heard about it and had him exempted. They said he was too valuable to them, and he has been doing remarkably well in selling liberty bonds. And Mary's eyes sparkled with her emotions. Yes, Ned is a crackerjack salesman. Agreed Tom, no less enthusiastically. He sold more bonds in proportion for his bank than any other in this county. Dad and I both took some, and have promised him more. I'm glad now that we let him go, although we've valued his services highly. We hope to have him back later. He can put me down for more bonds too, said Mr. Nester. I'm going to see Germany beaten if it takes every last dollar I have. That's what I say, cried Mary. I took out all my savings, except the little I'm keeping to buy a wedding present for Jenny Morris. Did you know she was going to get married, Tom? She asked. I heard so. Well, all but what I want for a wedding present to her is gone into liberty bonds. Isn't this a history-making time, Tom? Indeed it is, Mary. Everybody who has a part in it, whether he fights as a soldier, or only knits like the Red Cross girls, will be telling about it for years after, went on the girl, and she looked at Tom eagerly. Yes, he agreed. These are queer times. We don't know exactly where we're at. A lot of our men have been called. We tried to have some of them exempted, and did manage it in a few cases. You did, cried Mr. Nester, as if in surprise. You stopped men from going to war. Only so they could work on airship motors for the government, Tom quietly explained. Oh, well, of course, that's part of the game, agreed Mary's father. A lot more of our boys are going off next week. Doesn't it make you thrill, Tom, when you see them marching off, even if they haven't their uniforms yet? Jove, if I wasn't too old, I'd go in a minute. Father, cried Mary. Yes, I would, he declared. The German government has got to be beaten, and we've got to do our bit. Everybody has to. Man, woman, and child. Yes, agreed Tom in a low voice. That's very true, but everyone, in a sense, has to judge for himself what the bit is. We can't all do the same. There was a little silence, and then Mary went over to the piano and played. It was a rather welcome relief under the circumstances from the conversation. Mary, what do you think of Tom? Asked Mr. Nestor when the visitor had gone. What do I think of him? And she blushed. I mean about his not enlisting. Do you think he's a slacker? A slacker? Why, Father? Oh, I don't mean he's afraid. We've seen proof enough of his courage and all that. But I mean, don't you think he wants stirring up a bit? He's going to Washington tomorrow, Father. He told me so tonight. And it may be. Oh, well, then maybe it's all right. Hastily said Mr. Nestor. He may be going to get a commission in the engineer corps. It isn't like Tom Swift to hang back, and yet it does begin to look as though he cared more for his queer invention machines that butt down fences than for helping Uncle Sam. But I'll reserve judgment. You'd better, Father. And Mary laughed a little. Yet there was a worried look on her face. During the next few nights Mr. Nestor made it a habit to take the shortcut from the railroad station, coming past the big fence that enclosed one particular building of the Swift Plant. I wonder if there's a hole where I could look through, said Mr. Nestor to himself. Of course I don't believe in spying on what another man is doing, and yet I'm too good a friend of Tom's to want to see him make a fool of himself. He ought to be in the army, or helping Uncle Sam in some way. And yet if he spends all his time on some foolish contraption, like a new kind of traction plow, what good is that? If I could get a glimpse of it, I might drop a friendly hint in his ear. But there were no cracks in the fence, or if there were it was too dark to see them, and also too dark to behold anything on the other side of the barrier. So Mr. Nestor, wondering much, kept on his way. It was a day or so after this that Ned Newton paid a visit to the Swift Home. Mr. Swift was not in the house, being out in one of the various buildings, Mrs. Baggart said. Where's Tom? asked the Bond salesman. Oh, he hasn't come back from Washington yet, answered the housekeeper. He's making a long stay. Yes, he went about a week ago on some business, but we expect him back today. Well then, I'll see him. I called to ask if Mr. Swift didn't want to take a few more ponds. We want to double our allotment for Shopton, and beat out some of the other towns in this section. I'll go to see Mr. Swift. On his way to find Tom's father, Ned passed the big building in front of which Eradicate and Cocu were on guard. They nodded to Ned, who passed them, wondering much as to what it was Tom was so secretive about. It's the first time I remember when he worked on an invention without telling me something about it, used Ned. Well, I suppose it will all come out in good time. Anything new, Rad? No, Master Ned, nothing much. I'm detecting around here, keeping Dutchmen spies away. And Cocu is helping you, I suppose. What, him? That big good-for-nothing white trash? No, sir. I was detected by myself. That's what I is. And Eradicate strutted proudly up and down on his allotted part of the beat, being careful not to approach the building too closely, for that was Cocu's ground. Ned smiled and passed on. He found Mr. Swift, secured his subscription to more bonds, and was about to leave when he heard a call down the road and saw Tom coming in his small racing car, which had been taken to the depot by one of the workmen. Hello, old man, cried Ned affectionately, as his chum alighted with a jump. Where have you been? Down to Washington, had a bit of a chat with the President, and gave him some of my views. About the war, I suppose, laughed Ned. Yes. Did you get your commission? Commission? And there was a wondering look on Tom's face. Yes, Mary Nestor said she thought maybe you were going to Washington to take an examination for the Engineering Corps, or something like that. Did you get made an officer? No, answered Tom slowly. I went to Washington to get exempted. Exempted! cried Ned, and his voice sounded strained. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Seeing Things For a moment Tom Swift looked at his chum. Then something of what was passing in the mind of the young Bond salesman must have been reflected to Tom, for he said, Look here, old man, I know it may seem a bit strange to go to all that trouble to get exempted from the draft, to which I am eligible, but believe me, there's a reason. I can't say anything now, but I'll tell you as soon as I can tell everybody. In fact, just now it isn't in shape to talk about. Oh, that's all right, Tom. And Ned tried to make his voice sound natural. I was just wondering, that's all. I wanted to go to the front the worst way, but they wouldn't let me. I was sort of hoping you could, and come back to tell me about it. I may yet, Ned. You may? Why, I thought so. Oh, I'm only exempted for a time. I've got certain things to do, and I couldn't do them if I enlisted or was drafted, so I've been excused for a time. Now I've got a pile of work to do. What are you up to, Ned? Same old story? Liberty Bonds, yes. Your father just took some more. And so will I, Ned. I can do that anyhow, even if I don't enlist. Put me down for another $2,000 worth. Say, Tom, that's fine. That will make my share bigger than I counted on. Shopton will beat the record. That's good. We ought to pull strong and hardy for our hometown. How's everything else? Oh, so-so. I see Coco and Eradicate trying to outdo one another in guarding that part of your plant, and Ned nodded toward the big new building. Yes, I had to let Rad play detective. Not that he can do anything. He's too old. But it keeps him and Coco from quarreling all the while. I've got to be pretty careful about that shop. It's got a secret in it that, well, the less said about it, the better. You're getting my curiosity aroused, Tom. Remark, Ned. It'll have to go unsatisfied for a while. Wait a bit, and I'll give you a ride. I've got to go over to Sackett on business, and if you're going that way, I'll take you. What in? The hawk. That's me, cried Ned. I haven't been in an aircraft for some time. Tell Miles to run her out, requested Tom. I've got to go in and say hello to Dad a minute, and then I'll be with you. Seems like something was in the wind, Tom. Big do-ins? Hitted dead. Yes, maybe there is. It all depends on how she turns out. You might be talking of the hawk, or Mary Nestor, said Ned with a sidelong look at his chum. As it happens, it's neither one, said Tom, and then he hastened away to return shortly and guide his fleet little airship, the hawk, on her aerial journey. From then on, at least for some time, neither Tom nor Ned mentioned the matters they had been discussing. Tom's failure to enlist, his exemption, and what was being built in the closely guarded shop. Tom's business and sacket did not take him long, and then he and Ned went for a little ride in the air. It's like old times, exclaimed Ned, his eyes shining, though Tom could not see them for two reasons. One was that Ned was sitting behind him, and the other was that Ned wore heavy goggles, as did the young pilot. Also, they had to carry on their talk through the speaking tube arrangement. Yes, it is a bit like old times, agreed Tom. We've had some great old experiences together, Ned, haven't we? We surely have. I wonder if we'll have any more. When we were in the submarine and in your big airship, say, that big one is the one I always liked. I like big things. Do you? asked Tom. Well, maybe when I get. But Tom did not finish, for the hawk unexpectedly poked her nose into an empty pocket in the air just then, and needed a firm hand on the controls. Furthermore, Tom decided against making the confidence that was on the tip of his tongue. At last the aircraft was straightened out, and the pilot guided her on toward the Army encabement. That's the place I'd like to be, called Ned through the tube as the faint sweet notes of a bugle floated up from the parade ground. Yes, it would be great, admitted Tom. But there are other things to do for Uncle Sam besides wearing khaki. Tom's up to some game, used Ned. I mustn't judge him too hastily, or I might make a mistake. And Mary mustn't either, I'll tell her so. For Mary Nestor had spoken to Ned concerning Tom and the curiously secretive air about certain of his activities, and the girl moreover had spoken rather coldly of her friend. Ned did not like this. It was not like Mary and Tom to be at odds. Once more the hawk came to the ground, this time near the airship sheds, adjoining the swift works. Just as Tom and Ned alighted, one of the workmen summoned the young inventor toward the shop, which was so closely guarded by Koku and eradicate on the outside. I'll have to leave you, Ned, remarked Tom, as he turned away from his chum. There's a conference on about a new invention. Oh, that's all right. Business is business, you know. I've got some bond calls to make myself. I'll see you later. Oh, by the way, Ned, exclaimed Tom, turning back for a moment, I met an old friend the other day, or rather, an old enemy. Hmm. When you spoke first, I thought you might mean Professor Swington Bumper, that delightful scientist, remarked Ned. But he surely was no enemy. No, but I met someone I met about the same time. I met Blakeson, one of the rival contractors, when I helped dig the big tunnel. Is that so? Where'd you meet him? Right around here. It was certainly a surprise, and at first I couldn't place him. Then the memory of his face came back to me, and Tom related the incident which had taken place the day he and Mr. Damon were out in the hawk. What's he doing around here? Asked Ned. That's more than I can say, Tom answered. Up to no good, I'll wager. I agree with you, came from Tom. But I'm on the watch. That's wise, Tom. Well, I'll see you later. During the week which followed this talk, Ned was very busy on Liberty Bond work, and he made no doubt his chum was engaged also. This prevented them from meeting, but finally Ned, one evening, decided to walk over to the Swift home. I'll pay Tom a bit of a call, he mused. Maybe he'll feel more like talking now. Some of the boys are asking why he doesn't enlist, and maybe if I tell him that, he'll make some explanation that will quiet things down a bit. It's a shame that Tom should be talked about. With this intention in view, Ned kept on toward his chum's house, and he was about to turn in through a small grove of trees, which would lead to a path across the fields, when the young Bond salesman was surprised to hear someone running toward him. He could see no one for the path wound in and out among the trees, but the noise was plain. Someone in a hurry, mused Ned. A moment later he caught sight of a small lad named Harry Telford running toward him. The boy had his hat in his hand and was speeding through the fast-gathering darkness as though someone were after him. What's the rush? asked Ned. Playing cops and robbers? That was a game Tom and Ned had enjoyed in their younger days. I'm running away, petted Harry. I've seen something. He saw something, repeated Ned. What was it, a ghost? And he laughed, thinking the boy would do the same. No, no, it wasn't no ghost, declared Harry, casting a look over his shoulder. It was a wild elephant I saw, and it's down in a big yard with a fence around it. Where's that? asked Ned. The circus hasn't come to town this evening, has it? No, answered Harry. It wasn't no circus. I saw this elephant down in the big yard back of one of Mr. Swiss factories. Oh, down there was it, exclaimed Ned. What was it like? Well, I was walking along the top of the hill, explained Harry. And there's one place where, if you climb a tree, you can look right down in the big fenced-in yard. I guess I'm about the only one that knows about it. I don't believe Tom does, used Ned, or he'd have had that tree cut down. He doesn't want any spying, I take it. Well, what did you see? He asked Harry aloud. Saw an elephant, I tell you, insisted the younger boy. I was in the tree looking down. For a lot of us kids, his tried to peek through the fence and couldn't. I wanted to see what was there. And did you? asked Ned. I sure did, and it scared me too, admitted Harry. All at once when I was looking, I saw the big doors at the back of the shed open and the elephant waddled out. Are you sure you weren't seeing things like a little boy in the story? asked Ned. Well, I sure did see something, insisted Harry. It was a great, big, gray thing, bigger than any elephant I ever saw in any circus. It didn't seem to have any tail or trunk or even legs, but it went slow just like an elephant does, and it shook the ground. It stepped so hard. Nonsense, cried Ned. Sure, I saw it, cried Harry. Anyhow, he added after a moment's thought. It was as big as an elephant, though not like any I ever saw. What did it do? asked Ned. Well, it moved around, and then it started for the fence nearest me, where I was, up in the tree. I thought it might have seen me, even though it was getting dark, and it might burst through so I ran. Huh. Well, you surely were seeing things, murmured Ned, but while he made light of what the boy told him, the young bank clerk was thinking, what is Tom up to now? End of chapter. Chapter seven and eight of Tom Swift and His War Tank. This lever-box recording is in the public domain. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Tom Swift and His War Tank. By Victor Appleton. Chapter seven, up a tree. Want to come and have a look? Asked Harry as Ned paused in the patch of woods, which were in deeper darkness than the rest of the countryside, for night was fast-falling. Have a look at what? asked Ned, who was thinking many thoughts just then. At the elephant I saw back at the Swift factory. I wouldn't be scared if you come along. Well, I'm going over to see Tom Swift anyhow, answered Ned. So I'll walk that way. You can come if you like. I don't care about spying on other people's property. I wasn't spying, exclaimed Harry quickly. I just happened to look, and then I seen something. Well, come on, suggested Ned. If there's anything there, we'll have a peep at it. His idea was not to try to see what Tom was evidently endeavoring to conceal, but it was to observe whence Harry had made his observation, and be in a position to tell Tom to guard against unexpected lookers on from that direction. During the walk back along the course over which Harry had run so rapidly a little while before, Ned and the boy talked of what the latter had seen. Do you think it could be some new kind of elephant? asked Harry. You know Tom Swift brought back a big giant from one of his trips, and maybe he's got a bigger elephant than anyone ever saw before. Monsense! Last Ned. In the first place, Tom hasn't been on any trip. Of late, except to Washington, and the only kind of elephants there are white ones. Really? asked Harry. No, that wasn't a joke, exclaimed Ned. Anyhow, Tom hasn't any giant elephants concealed up his sleeve, I'm sure of that. But what could this be? asked Harry. It moved just like some big animal. Probably some piece of machinery Tom was having carted from one shop to another, went on the young bank clerk. Most likely he had it covered with a big piece of canvas to keep off the due, and it was that you saw. No, it wasn't, insisted Harry, but he could not give any further details of what he had seen so that Ned could recognize it. They kept on until they reached the hill, at the bottom of which was the Swift home, and the grounds on which the various shops were erected. Here's the place where you can look down right into the yard with the high fence around it, exclaimed Harry, as he indicated the spot. I can't see anything. You have to climb up the tree, Harry went on. Here, this is the one. And he indicated a stunted and gnarled pine, the green branches of which would effectually screen anyone who once got up in it a few feet above the ground. Well, I may as well have a look, decided Ned. It can't do Tom any harm, and it may be of some service to him. Here goes. Up into the tree he scrambled, not without some difficulty, for the branches were close together and stiff, and Ned tore his coat in the effort. But he finally got a position where, to his surprise, he could look down into the very enclosure from which Tom was so particular to keep prying eyes. You can see right down in it, Ned exclaimed. I told you so, returned Harry. But do you see it? Ned looked long and carefully. It was lighter, now that they were out of the clump of woods, and he had the advantage of having the last glow of the sunset at his back. Even with that, it was difficult to make out objects on the surface of the enclosed field, some hundred or more feet below. Do you see anything? asked Harry again. No, I can't say I do, Ned answered. The place seems to be deserted. Well, there was something there, insisted Harry. Maybe you aren't looking at the right place. Have a look yourself, then, suggested Ned as he got down, a task no more to his liking than the climb upward had been. Harry made easier work of it, being smaller and more used to climbing trees. A luxury Ned had perforce denied himself since going to work in the bank. Harry peered about, and then, with a sigh that had in it somewhat of disappointment, said, No, there's nothing there now, but I did see something. Are you sure? asked Ned. Positive, answered the other. Well, whatever it was, some bitter machinery he was moving. I fancy Tom has taken it in now, remarked Ned. Better not say anything about this, Harry. Tom might not like it known. No, I won't. And don't come here again to look. I know you'd like to see strange things, but if you'll wait, I'll ask Tom, as soon as it's ready, to let you have a closer view of whatever it is you saw. Better keep away from this tree. I will, promised the younger lad. But I'd like to know what it was, if it really was a giant elephant. Say, if a fellow had a troop of them, he could have a lot of fun with them, couldn't he? How? asked Ned, hardly conscious of what his companion was saying. Why, he could dress them up in coats of mail like the old knights used to wear, and turn them loose against the Germans. Think of a regiment of elephants wearing armor plates like a battleship, carrying on their backs a lot of soldiers with machine guns and charging against frits. Cracky, that would be a sight. I should say so. Agreed Ned with a laugh. There's nothing to matter with your imagination, Harry, my boy. Yeah, maybe that's what Tom's doing. What do you mean? I mean, maybe he is training elephants to fight in the war. You know he made an aerial warship, so why couldn't he have a lot of armor-plated elephants? Oh, I suppose he could if he wanted to, admitted Ned. But I guess he isn't doing that. Don't get to going too fast in high speed, Harry, or you may have a nightmare. Well, I'm going down to see Tom. And you won't tell him I was peeking? Not if you don't do it again. I'll advise him to have that tree cut down, though. It's too good a vantage spot. Harry turned and went in the direction of his home, while Ned kept on down the hill toward the house of his chum. The young bond salesman was thinking of many things as he tramped along, and among them was the information Harry had just given. But Ned did not pay a visit to his chum that evening. When he reached the house, he found that Tom had gone out leaving no word as to when he would be back. Oh, well, I can tell him to-morrow, thought Ned. It was not, however, until two days later that Ned found the time to visit Tom again. On this occasion, as before, he took the road through the clump of woods where he had seen Harry running. And while I'm about it, mused Ned, I may as well go on to the place where the tree stands and make sure, by daylight, that I only partially surmised in the evening that Tom's place can be looked down on from that vantage point. Sauntering slowly along, for he was in no special hurry, having the remainder of the day to himself, Ned approached the hill where the tree stood, from which Harry had said he had seen what he took to be a giant elephant, perhaps an armor. It's a good clear day, observed Ned, and fine for seeing I wonder if I'll be able to see anything. It was necessary first to ascend the hill to a point where it overhung, in a measure, the swift property, though the holdings of Tom and his father were some distance beyond the eminence. The tree from which Ned and Harry had made their observations was on a knob of the hill, the stunted pine standing out from among others like it. Well, here goes for another torn coat, grimly observed Ned as he prepared to climb, but I'll be more careful. First, though, let's see if I can see anything without getting up. He paused a little away from the pine and peered down the hill. Nothing could be seen of the big enclosed field back of the building, about which Tom was so careful. You have to be up to see anything, used Ned. It's up a tree for me. Well, here goes. As Ned started to work his way up among the thick green branches, he became aware, suddenly and somewhat to his surprise, that he was not the only person who knew about the observation spot. For Ned saw, a yard above his head, as he started to climb, two feet encased in well-made boots, standing on a limb near the trunk of the tree. Oh-ho! mused Ned. Someone here before me. Where there are feet there must be legs, and where there are legs most likely a body. And it isn't Harry, either. The feet are too big for that. I wonder who. But Ned's musings were suddenly cut short, for the person up the tree ahead of him moved quickly and stepped on Ned's fingers with no light tread. Ouch! exclaimed the young bank clerk involuntarily, and letting go his hold of the limb he dropped to the ground, while there came a startled exclamation from the screen of pine branches above him. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Detective Rad Who's there? came the demand from the unseen person in the tree. I might ask you the same thing, was Ned's sharp retort, as he nursed his skinned and bruised fingers. What are you doing up there? There was no answer, but a sound among the branches indicated that the person up the tree was coming down. In another moment a man leaped to the ground lightly and stood beside Ned. The lad observed that the stranger was clean-shaven, except for a small mustache which curled up at the ends slightly. For all the world like a small edition of the Kaisers, Ned described it afterwards. What are you doing here? demanded the man, and his voice had in it the ring of authority. It was this very quality that made Ned bristle up and get on his ear, as he said later. The young clerk did not object to being spoken to authoritatively by those who had the right, but from a stranger it was different. I might ask you the same thing, retorted Ned. I have as much right here as you, I fancy, and I can climb trees too, but I don't care to have my fingers stepped on. And he looked at the scarified members of his left hand. I beg your pardon. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I didn't mean to. And of course this is a public place, in a way, and you have a right here. I was just climbing the tree to get a fishing pole. Ned had all he could do to keep from laughing. The idea of getting a fishing pole from a gnarled and stunted pine struck him as being altogether novel and absurd. Yet it was not time to make fun of the man. The latter looked too serious for that. Rather a good view to be had from up where you were, huh? asked Ned suggestively. A good view? exclaimed the other. I don't know what you mean. Oh, then you didn't see anything, Ned went on. Perhaps it's just as well. Are you fond of fishing? Very, I have, but I forget. I do not know you nor you me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Walder Simpson, and I am here on a visit. I just happen to walk out this way, and seeing a small stream, thought I should like to fish. I usually carry lines and hooks, and all I needed was the pole. I was looking for it when I heard you, and I felt you interrupted Ned with a short laugh. He told his own name, but that was all, and seemed about to pass on. Are there any locomotive shops around here? asked Mr. Simpson. Locomotive shops, queried Ned. None that I know of, why? Well, I heard heavy machinery being used down there. And he waved his hand toward Tom's shops. And I thought, Oh, you mean Shopton? exclaimed Ned. That's the Swift plant. No, they don't make locomotives, though they could if they wanted to, for they turn out airships, submarines, tunnel diggers, and I don't know what. Do they make munitions there for the Allies? asked Mr. Simpson, and there was an eager look on his face. No, I don't believe so. Ned answered. Though in fact I don't know enough of the place to be in a position to give you any information about it. He told the man, not deeming it wise to go into particulars. Perhaps the man felt this, as he did not press for an answer. The two stood looking at one another for some little time, and then the man, with a bow that had in it something of insolence, as well as politeness, turned and went down the path up which Ned had come. The young bank clerk waited a little while, and then turned his attention to the tree, which seemed to have suddenly assumed an importance altogether out of proportion to its size. Well, since on here I'll have a look up that tree, decided Ned. Favoring his bruised hand, Ned essayed the ascent of the tree more successfully this time. As he rose up among the branches he found he could look down directly into the yard with a high fence around it. He could see only a portion, good as his vantage point was, and that portion had in it a few workmen, nothing else. No elephants there, said Ned with a smile, as he remembered Harry's excitement. Still it's just as well for Tom to know that his place can be looked down on. I'll go and tell him. As Ned descended the tree he caught a glimpse off to one side among some bushes of something moving. I wonder if that's my simp friend laying eye spy, used Ned. Guess I'd better have a look. He worked his way carefully close to the spot where he had seen the movement. Proceeding then with more caution, watching each step and parting the bushes with a careful hand, Ned beheld what he expected. There was the late occupant of the pine tree, the man who had stepped on Ned's fingers, applying a small telescope to his eye, and gazing in the direction of Tom Swift's home. The man stood concealed in a screen of bushes with his back toward Ned, and seemed oblivious of his surroundings. He moved the glass to and fro and seemed eagerly intent on discovering something. Though what he can see of Tom's place from there isn't much, mused Ned. I've tried it myself, and I know you have to be on an elevation to look down. Still it shows he's after something all right. Guess I'll throw a little scaring to him. As yet, Ned believed himself unobserved, and that his presence was not suspected, was proved a moment later when he shouted, hey, what are you doing there? He had his eye on the partially concealed man, and the latter, as Ned said afterward, jumped fully two feet in the air, dropping his telescope as he did so, and turned to face the lad. Oh, it's you, is it? he faltered. No one else, and Ned grinned. Looking for a good place to fish, I presume? Then, at least for once, the man's suave manner dropped from him as if it had been a mask. He bared his teeth in a snarl, as he answered. Mind your own business. Something I'd advise you also to do, replied Ned smoothly. You can't see anything from there, he went on. Better go back to the tree and cut a fishing pole. With this parting shot, Ned sauntered down the hill, and swung around to make his way toward Tom's home. He paid no further attention to the man, save to determine, by listening, that the fellow was searching among the bushes for a dropped telescope. The young inventor was at home, taking a hasty lunch which Mrs. Baggard had set out for him. The while he poured over some blueprint drawings that, to Ned's unaccustomed eyes, seemed like the mazes of some intricate puzzle. Well, where have you been keeping yourself, old man? As Tom swept after he had greeted his friend. I might ask the same of you, retorted Ned with a smile. I've been trying to find you to give you some important information, and I made up my mind, after what happened today, to write it and leave it for you if I didn't see you. What happened today? As Tom, and there was a serious look on his face. You were being spied upon, at least that part of your works enclosed in the new fences. replied Ned. You don't mean it! cried Tom. This accounts for some of it, then. For some of what? asked Ned. For some of the actions of that Blakeson. He's been hanging around here, I understand, asking too many questions about things that I'm trying to keep secret, even for my best friends. And as Tom said this, Ned fancied there was a note of regret in his voice. Yes, you are keeping something secret, Tom. Said Ned, determined to take the bull by the horns, as it were. I'm sorry, but it has to be, went on Tom. In a little while, though. Oh, don't think that I'm at all anxious to know things, broken Ned. I was thinking of someone else, Tom, another of your friends. Do you mean Mary? Ned nodded. She feels rather keenly your lack of explanations, went on the young bank clerk. If you could only give her a hint. I'm sorry, but it can't be done. And Tom spoke firmly. But you haven't told me all that happened. You say I am being spied upon. Yes. And Ned related what had taken place in the tree. Whistled Tom. That's going some with a vengeance. I must have that tree down in a jiffy. I didn't imagine there was a spot where the yard could be overlooked, but I evidently skipped that tree. Fortunately it's on land owned by a concern with which I have some connection, and I can have it chopped down without any trouble. Much obliged to you, Ned. I shan't forget this in a hurry. I'll go right away now, and— Tom's further remark was interrupted by the hurried entrance of Eradicate Sampson. The old man was smiling in pleased anticipation, evidently at the same time, trying hard not to give way to too much emotion. I has done it, mess of Tom, he cried exultingly. Done what? asked the young inventor. I hope you and Koku haven't had another row. No, sir. I don't want nothing to do with that ornery low-down white trash, but I's gone and done what I said I'd do. What's that, Rad? Come on, tell us. Don't keep us in suspense. I has done some detector tiff work. Less like I said I'd do. And I has caught him by golly, mess of Tom. I has caught him black-handed, as it says. Caught him? Whom have you caught, Rad? cried Tom. Do you suppose he means he's caught the man you saw up the tree, Ned? The man you think is a German spy? It couldn't be. I left him only a little while ago, hunting for his telescope. Then whom have you caught, Rad? cried Tom. Come on, I'll give you credit for it. Tell us. I has caught that Dutch sauerkrauter. That's who I caught, mess of Tom. By golly, I has caught him. But who, Rad? Who is he? I don't know his name, mess of Tom, but he's a sauerkrauter all right. That's what he eat for lunch. And that's why I calls him dad. I has caught him, and he's locked up into stable with my mule boomerang. And if he tries to get out, boomerang will just naturally kick him into little pieces. That's what boomerang will do by golly. End of chapter. Rad, said Tom, after a moment or two of silent contemplation of eradicate. I don't know what this cheerful camouflager of mine is talking about, but we'll have to go to sea, I suppose. You say you have shut someone up in boomerang stable, Rad? Yes, ah, mess of Tom. That's what I has gone and done. And you say he's a German? I don't know as to dad, mess of Tom, but he's sure done eat sauerkraut most as every meal. That's what I call him, a sauerkrauter. And he sure was spying. How do you know that, Rad? Cause he dawn went from his own shop on another man's ticket into the secret shop. That's what he went and done. Do you mean to tell me, Rad, went on Tom, that one of the workmen from another shop entered number 13 on the pass issued in the name of one of the men regularly employed in my new shop? That's what he done, mess of Tom. How do you know? Cause I detected him doing it. You all done made me a detective, and I detected. Go on, Rad. Well, sir, mess of Tom, I seen this year a Dutchman get a ticket pass off in one of the regular men. Then he went into unlucky place and stayed for a long time. When he come out, I just naturally nabbed him. That's what I done. And I took him to Boomerang Stable. How'd you get him to go with you? Asked Ned, for the old colored man was feeble, and most of the men employed at Tom's plant were of a robust type. A ton fooled him. I said is how I'd less brought from town in my mule cart some new sauerkraut, and he could sample it if he liked. So he went with me, and when I got him to Stable, I pushed him in and locked the door. Come on, cried Tom to his chum. Rad may be right after all, and one of my workmen may be a German spy, though I've tried to weed them all out. However, no matter about that, if he was employed in another shop, he had no right to go into No. 13. That's a violation of rules. But if he's in Rad's ramshackle stable, he can easily get out. No sod, that's what he can't do, insisted the colored man. Why not? asked Tom. Cause boomerangs on guard, and you all knows how that mule of mine can use his heels. I know Rad went on Tom, but this fellow will find a way of keeping out of their way. We must hurry. Oh, he's safe enough, declared the colored man. I done told Koku to stand guard too. That low-down white trash of a giant is all right for garden, but he ain't wolf shucks at detecting, said eradicate, with pardonable pride. By golly, maybe I was too old to put on guard, but I can detect all right. If this proves true, I'll begin to believe you can, replied Tom. Hop along, Ned. Followed by the shuffling and chuckling negro, Tom and Ned went to the rather insecure stable where the mule boomerang was kept. That is, the stable was insecure from the standpoint of a jail. But the sight of the giant Koku, marching up and down in front of the place, armed with a big club, reassured Tom. Is he in there, Koku? asked the young inventor. Yes, master, he try once come out, but he approaches, had very close my defense weapon, and he go back again. I should think he would, laughed Ned, as he noted the giant's club. Well, Rad, let's have a look at your prisoner. Open the door, Koku, commanded Tom. Better look out, advised Ned. He may be armed. We'll have to take a chance. Besides, I don't believe he is, or he'd have fired at Koku. There isn't much to fear with the giant ready for emergencies. Now we'll see who he is. I can't imagine one of my men turning traitor. The door was opened, and a rather miserable looking man shuffled out. There was a bloody rag on his head, and he seemed to have made more of an effort to escape than Koku described, for he appeared to have suffered in the ensuing fight. Carl Schwinn exclaimed Tom. So it was you, was it? The German, for such he was, did not answer for a moment. He appeared downcast, and as if suffering, then a change came over him. He straightened up, saluted as a soldier might have done, and a sneering look came into his face. It was succeeded by one of pride, as the man exclaimed. Yes, it is I, and I tried to do what I tried to do for the fatherland. I have failed. Now you will have me shot as a spy, I suppose, he added bitterly. Tom did not answer directly. He looked keenly at the man, and at last said, I'm sorry to see this. I knew you were a German, Schwinn, but I kept you employed at work that could not, by any possibility, be considered as used against your country. You were a good machinist, and I needed you. But if what I hear about you is true, it's the end. It is the end, said the man simply. I tried and failed. If it had not been for eradicate, well, he's smarter than I gave him credit for, that's all. The man spoke very good English, with hardly a trace of German accent, but there was no doubt as to his character. What will you do with him, Tom? asked Ned. I don't know. I'll have to do a little investigating first. But he must be locked up. Schwinn went on the young inventor. I'm sorry about this, but I shall have to give you into the custody of a United States Marshal. You are not a naturalized citizen, are you? The man muttered something in German to the effect that he was not naturalized and was glad of it. Then you come under the head of an enemy alien, decided Tom, who understood what was said, and will have to be interned. I had hoped to avoid this, but it seems it cannot be. I'm sorry to lose you, but there are more important matters. Now let's get at the bottom of this. Schwinn was, after a little delay, taken in charge by the proper officer, and then a search was made of his room, for, in common with some of the other workmen, he lived in a boarding-house not far from the plant. There, by a perusal of his papers, enough was revealed to show Tom the danger he had escaped. And yet I don't know that I have all together escaped it, he said to Ned, as they talked it over. There's no telling how long the spy work may have been going on. If he has discovered all the secrets of Shop 13, it may be a bad thing for the allies. And look out, warned Ned with a laugh. You'll be saying things you don't want to, Tom, and not at all in keeping with your former silence. That's so, agreed the young inventor with a sigh. But if things go right, I'll not have to keep silent much longer. I may be able to tell you everything. Don't tell me, tell Mary, advised his chum. She feels your silence more than I do. I know how such things are. Well, I'll be able to tell her too, decided Tom. That is, if Schwinn hasn't spoiled everything, look here, Ned, these papers show he's been in correspondence with Blakeson and Grindr. What about, Tom? I can't tell. The letters are evidently written in code, and I can't translate it offhand. But I'll make another attempt at it. And here's one from a person who signs himself Walter Simpson, but the writing is in German. Walter Simpson, cried Ned, that's my friend of the tree. It is, cried Tom. Then things begin to fit themselves together. Simpson is a spy, and he was probably trying to communicate with Schwinn. But the latter didn't get the information he wanted, or if he did get it he wasn't able to pass it on to the man in the tree. The eradicate nipped him just in time. And so it seemed the colored man had done. By accident he had discovered that Schwinn had prevailed on one of the workmen in Shop 13 to change passes with him. This enabled the German spy to gain admittance to the secret place, which Tom thought was so well guarded. The man who let Schwinn take the pass was in the game too, it appeared, and he was also placed under arrest. But he was a mere tool in the pay of the others, and had no chance to gain valuable information. A hasty search of Shop 13 did not reveal anything missing, and it was surmised, for Schwinn would not talk, that he had not found time to go about and get all that he was after. Soon after Schwinn's arrest, the spy tree, as Tom called it, was cut down. Eradicate certainly did better than I ever expected he would, declared Tom. Well, if all goes well, there won't be so much need for secrecy after the search. After a day or so, we're going to give her a test, and then give who a test? asked Ned with a smile. You'll soon see, answered Tom with an answering grin. I hereby invite you and Mr. Damon to come over to Shop 13, day after tomorrow night, and then, well, you'll see what you'll see. With this, Ned had to be content, and he waited anxiously for the apported time to come. I surely will be glad when Tom is more like himself, he mused, as he left his chum, and I guess Mary will be too. I wonder if he's going to ask her to the exhibition. It developed that Tom had done so, a fact which Ned learned on the morning of the day, set for the test. Come over about nine o'clock, Tom said to his chum. I guess it will be dark enough then. Meanwhile, Schwann and Otto Kuhn, the other man involved, had been locked up, and all their papers given into the charge of the United States authorities. A closer guard than ever was kept over Number 13's shop, and some of the workmen, against whom there was a slight suspicion, were transferred. Well, we'll see what we shall see. Mused Ned on the apported evening, when a telephone message from Mr. Damon informed the young bank clerk that the eccentric man was coming to call for him before going to the swift place. End of chapter 9. Chapter 10 A Runaway Giant What do you think it's all about, Mr. Damon? I'm sure I don't know, Ned. The two were at the home of the young bank clerk, preparing to start for the swift place, if being nearly nine o'clock on the evening name by the youthful inventor. Bless my hat-rack, went on the eccentric man, but Tom isn't at all like himself a blade. He's working on some invention, I know that, but it's all I do know. He hasn't given me a hint of it. Nor me, nor any of his friends, added Ned, and he acts so oddly about enlisting, he doesn't even want to speak of it. How he got exempted, I don't know, but I do know one thing, and that is Tom swift is for Uncle Sam first, last, and always. Oh, of course, agreed Mr. Damon. Well, we'll soon know, I guess. We'd better start, Ned. It's useless to try to guess what it is Tom is up to. He has kept his secret well. The nearest anyone has come to it was when Harry figured out that Tom had a band of giant elephants which he was fitting with coats of steel armor to go against the Germans. Observed Ned when he and Mr. Damon were on their way. Well, that mightn't be so bad, agreed Mr. Damon, but armored elephants and wild giant ones too. Bless my circus, ticket, Ned. Do you think we'd better go in that case? Oh, Tom hasn't anything like that, laughed Ned. That was only Harry's crazy notion after he saw something big and ungainly careening about the enclosed yard of Shop 13. Hello, there go Mary Nester and her father. And Ned pointed to the opposite side of the street where the girl and Mr. Nester could be seen in the light of a street lamp. They're going out to see Tom's secret, said Mr. Damon. There's plenty of room in my car. Let's ask them to go with us. Surely, agreed Ned, and a moment later he and Mary were in the rear seat while Mr. Damon and Mr. Nester were in the front, Mr. Damon at the wheel, and they were soon speeding down the road. I do hope everything will go all right, observed Mary. What do you mean? asked Ned. I mean Tom is a little bit anxious about this test. Did he tell you what it was to be? No, but when he called to invite father of me to be present, he seemed worried. I guess it's a big thing, for he never has acted this way before, not talking about his work. That's right, ascended Ned, but the secret will soon be disclosed, I fancy. But how is it you aren't going to the dance with Lieutenant Martin? He told me you had half accepted for tonight. I had, and if it had been light enough Ned would have seen Mary blushing. I was going with him. It's a dance for the benefit of the Red Cross to get money for comfort kits for the soldiers. But when Tom sent word that he'd like to have me present tonight, why? Oh, I see, broke in Ned with a little laugh. Nuff said. Mary's blushes were deeper, but the kindly night hid them. Then they conversed on matters connected with the Big War, the selling of liberty bonds, the Red Cross work, and the Surgical Dressings Committee, in which Mary was the head of a junior league. Everybody in Shopton seems to be doing something to help win the war, said Mary, and as there was just then a lull in the talk between her father and Mr. Damon, her words sounded clearly. Yes, everybody—that is, all but a few—said Mr. Nester, and they ought to get busy. There are some young fellows in this town that ought to be wearing khaki, and I don't mean you, Ned Newton. You're doing your bit all right. And so is Tom Swift, exclaimed Mr. Damon, as if there had been an implied accusation against the young inventor. I heard only today that one of his inventions, a gas-helmet that he planned, is in use on the Western Front in Europe. Tom gave his patents to the government, and even made a lot of the helmets free to show other factories how to turn them out to advantage. He did, cried Mr. Nester. That's what he did—talk about doing your bit. I didn't know that, observed Mary's father slowly. Do you suppose it's a test of another gas-helmet that Tom has asked us out to see tonight? I hardly think so, said Ned. He wouldn't wait until after dark for that. This is something big, and Tom must intend to have it out in the open. He probably waited until after sunset so the neighbors wouldn't come out in flocks. There's been a lot of talk about what is going on in Shop 13, especially since the arrest of the German spies, and the least hint that a test is underway would bring out a big crowd. I suppose so, agreed Mr. Nester. Well, I'm glad to know that Tom is doing something for Uncle Sam, even if it's only helping with gas-helmets. Those Germans are barbarians, if ever there were any, and we've got to fight them the same way they fight us. That's the only way to end the war. Now, if I had my way, I'd take every German I could lay my hands on, and— Father, pretzels, exclaimed Mary. Eh? What's that, my dear? I said, pretzels. Oh! and Mr. Nester's voice lost its sharpness. That's my way of quieting Father down when he gets too strenuous in his talk about the war. Explain Mary. We agreed that whenever he got excited I was to say pretzels to him, and that would make him remember. We made up our little scheme after he got into an argument with a man on the train and was carried past his station. Well, that's right, admitted Mr. Nester with a laugh, but that fellow was the most obstinate pig-headed Dutchman that ever tackled a plate of pig-knuckles and sauerkraut, and if he had the least grain of common-sense-eat pretzels, cried Mary. Eh? Oh yes, my dear, I was forgetting again. There was a moment of merriment, and then, after the talk had run for a while and other and safer channels, Mr. Damon made the announcement. I think we're about there. We'll be at Tom's place when we make the turn, and he was interrupted by a low, heavy rumbling. What's that? asked Mr. Nester. It's getting louder, the noise, remarked Mary. It sounds as if some big body were approaching down the road, a tramp of many feet. Can it be that troops are marching away? Bless my spark plug! Suddenly cried Mr. Damon. Look! The gaze ahead and there, seen in the glare of the automobile headlights, was an immense dark body approaching them from across a level field. The rumble and roar became more pronounced, and the ground shook as though from an earthquake. A glaring light shone out from the ponderous moving body, and above the roar and rattle a voice called, Out! Out of the way! We've lost control! Look out! Bless my steering wheel! gasped Mr. Damon. That was Tom's Swiss voice. But what is he doing in that thing? It must be his new invention, exclaimed Ned. What is it? asked Mr. Nester. A giant ventured Ned. It's a giant machine of some sort, and and it's running away, cried Mr. Damon, as he quickly steered his car to one side, and not a moment too soon. An instant later, in a cloud of dust and with a rumble and a roar, as of a dozen express trains fused into one, the runaway giant of what nature they could only guess