Tom Swift and His Airship | Page 8

laying aside a wrench. "I wish Mrs.
Baggert would wait about an hour. I'd have this valve nearly done,
then."
But the housekeeper was evidently not going to wait, for her voice
supplemented the bell.
"Supper! Sup-per!" she called. "Come now, Mr. Swift; Tom, Mr. Sharp!
I can't wait any longer! The meat and potatoes will be spoiled!"
"I s'pose we'd better go in," remarked Mr. Sharp, with something of a
sigh. "We can finish to-morrow."

The shop, where certain parts of the airship were being made, was
doubly locked, and Jackson, the engineer, who was also a sort of
watchman, was bidden to keep good guard, for the fear of the gang of
unscrupulous men, who had escaped from jail during a great storm, was
still in the minds of Mr. Swift and his son.
"And give an occasional look in the shed, where the aeroplane is,"
advised Mr. Sharp. "It wouldn't take much to damage that, now."
"I'll pay particular attention to it," promised the engineer. "Don't worry,
Mr. Sharp."
After supper the three gathered around the table on which were spread
out sheets of paper, covered with intricate figures and calculations,
which Mr. Swift and the balloonist went over with care. Tom was
examining some blue prints, which gave a sectional view of the
proposed ship, and was making some measurements when the bell rang,
and Mrs. Baggert ushered in Ned Newton, the most particular chum of
the young inventor.
"Hello, Ned!" exclaimed Tom. "I was wondering what had become of
you. Haven't seen you in a dog's age."
"That's right," admitted Ned. "We've been working late nights at the
bank. Getting ready for the regular visit of the examiner, who usually
comes along about this time. Well, how are things going; and how is
the airship?" for, of course, Ned had heard of that.
"Oh, pretty good. Had another explosion today, I s'pose you heard."
"No, I hadn't."
"I thought everyone in town had, for Andy Foger and his two cronies
were on hand, and they usually tell all they know."
"Oh, Andy Foger! He makes me sick! He was scooting up the street in
his auto just as I was coming in, `honking-honking' his horn to beat the
band! You'd think no one ever had an auto but him. He certainly was

going fast."
"Wait until I get in our airship," predicted Tom. "Then I'll show you
what speed is!"
"Do you really think it will go fast?"
"Of course it will! Fast enough to catch Anson Morse and his crowd of
scoundrels if we could get on their track."
"Why, I thought they were in jail," replied Ned, in some surprise.
"Weren't they arrested after they stole your boat?"
"Yes, and put in jail, but they managed to get out, and now they're free
to make trouble for us again."
"Are you sure they're out of jail?" asked Ned, and Tom noted that his
chum's face wore an odd look.
"Sure? Of course I am. But why do you ask?"
Ned did not answer for a moment. He glanced at Tom's father, and the
young inventor understood. Mr. Swift was getting rather along in age,
and his long years of brain work had made him nervous. He had a great
fear of Morse and his gang, for they had made much trouble for him in
the past. Tom appreciated his chum's hesitancy, and guessed that Ned
had something to say that he did not want Mr. Swift to hear.
"Come on up to my room, Ned. I've got something I want to show
you," exclaimed Tom, after a pause.
The two lads left the room, Tom glancing apprehensively at his father.
But Mr. Swift was so engrossed, together with the aeronaut, in making
some calculations regarding wind pressure, that it is doubtful if either
of the men were aware that the boys had gone.
"Now what is it, Ned?" demanded our hero, when they were safe in his
apartment. "Something's up. I can tell by your manner. What is it?"

"Maybe it's nothing at all," went on his chum. "If I had known, though
that those men had gotten out of jail, I would have paid more attention
to what I saw to-night, as I was leaving the bank to come here."
"What did you see?" demanded Tom, and his manner, which had been
calm, became somewhat excited.
"Well, you know I've been helping the payingteller straighten up his
books," went on the young bank employee, "and when I came out
tonight, after working for several hours, I was glad enough to hurry
away from the `slave-den,' as I call it. I almost ran up the street, not
looking where I was going, when, just as I turned the corner, I bumped
into a man."
"Nothing suspicious