Tom Swift and His Aerial Warship | Page 6

expressive statement."
"Well, Dad, we'll see," began 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, Massa Tom!" added the colored man. "I done did
prognosticate dat some day de combustible material of which dat shed
am composed would conflaggrate--"
"What's the matter?" interrupted Tom, jumping forward. "Speak out!
Eradicate! Mr. Damon, what is it?"
"The red shed!" cried the short little man. "The red shed, Tom
"It's on fire!" yelled the colored man.
"Great thunderclaps!" cried Tom. "Come on --everybody on the job!"
he yelled. "Koku, 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 fire bell was clanging out its warning. And,
while the work of fighting the flames is under way, I will halt the
progress of this 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 perused the previous volumes may skip this
part.
Tom Swift, though rather young in years, was an inventor of note. His
tastes and talents were developed along the line of machinery and
locomotion. Motorcycles, automobiles, motorboats, submarine craft,
and, latest 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. Baggert kept house for them,
and an aged colored man, Eradicate Sampson, with his mule,
Boomerang, did "odd jobs" about the Shopton home and factories.
Among Tom's friends was a Mr. Wakefield Damon, from a nearby
village. Mr. Damon was always blessing something, from his hat 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 Nestor, a young lady of
Shopton, 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 adventures.
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 a 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 this 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 volume of this series,
entitled "Tom Swift and His Motorcycles," you may read of his rather
thrilling adventures on his speedy road-steed.

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
this story Tom had 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 this 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 patent, an aerial warship, which, however, was not the success
Tom had hoped for.
But just at present other 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