Tom Swift and His Big Tunnel | Page 4

very quickly. But you should have let him come, Koku. It makes him feel badly when he thinks he can't be of service to me any more.
"Man say he in hurry." The giant spoke softly, as though he felt the gentle rebuke Tom administered. "Koku run quick tell you--bang on door."
"Yes, you banged all right, Koku. Well, it can't be helped, I reckon. Where is this strange man? Who is he? Did you ever see him before?"
"Me no can tell, Master. Not sure. But him now be at the outer gate. Eradicate watch."
"All right. I'll go and see who it is. I don't want any strangers poking around here, especially With the plans of my new gyroscope lying in plain view."
Before he left the laboratory Tom swept into a desk drawer the mass of papers and blue prints, and locked the receptacle.
"No use taking any chances," he remarked. "I've had too much trouble with people trying to get inside information about dad's and my patents. Now, Koku, I'll go and see this man."
The buildings composing the plant of Tom Swift and his father at Shopton were enclosed by a high, board fence, and at one of the entrances was a sort of gate-house, where some one was always on guard. Only those who could give a good account of themselves, workmen in the plant, or those known to the sentinel were admitted.
It happened that the colored man, Eradicate, was on guard at the gates this day when the stranger asked to see Tom. Koku, working on the airship engine not far away, saw the stranger. Hearing the man say he was in a hurry and noting the slow progress of the aged Eradicate, who was troubled with rheumatism, the giant took matters into his own hands.
Tom Swift entered the gate-house and saw, seated in a chair, a man who was impatiently tapping the floor with his thick-soled shoe.
"Looks like a detective or a policeman in disguise," thought Tom, for, almost invariably, members of this profession wear very thick-soled shoes. Opposite the stranger sat Eradicate, a much-injured look on his honest, black face.
"Oh, Massa Tom!" exclaimed Eradicate, as soon as the young inventor entered. "Dat Koku he--he--he done gone and cotch me by de collar ob mah coat, an' den he lif' me up, an' he sot me down so hard--so hard--dat he jar loose all mah back teef!" and Eradicate opened his mouth wide to display his gleaming ivories.
"Eradicate, he no can come quick. He walk like so fashion!" and Koku, who had followed the young inventor, imitated the limping gait of the colored man with such a queer effect that Tom could not help laughing, and the stranger smiled.
"Ef I gits holt on yo'--ef I does, yo' great, big, overgrown lummox, Ah'll--Ah'll--" began the colored man, stammeringly.
"There. That will do now!" interrupted Tom. "Don't quarrel in here. Koku, get back to that engine and lift out the motor. Eradicate, didn't father tell you to whitewash the chicken coops to-day?"
"Dat's what he done, Massa Tom.
"Well, go and see about that. I'll stay here for a while, and when I leave I'll call one of you, or some one else, to be on guard. Skip now!"
Having thus disposed of the warring factions, Tom turned to the stranger and after apologizing for the little interruption, asked:
"You wished to see me?"
"If you're Tom Swift; yes."
"Well, I'm Tom Swift," and the young owner of the name smiled.
"I hope you will pardon a stranger for calling on you," resumed the man, "but I'm in a lot of trouble, and I think you are the only one who can help me out."
"What sort of trouble?" Tom inquired.
"Contracting trouble--tunnel blasting, to be exact. But if you have a few minutes to spare perhaps you will listen to my story. You will then be better able to understand my difficulty."
Tom Swift considered a moment. He was used to having appeals for help made to him, and usually they were of a begging nature. He was often asked for money to help some struggling inventor complete his machine.
In many cases the machines would have been of absolutely no use if perfected. In other cases the inventions were of the utterly hopeless class, incapable of perfection, like some perpetual motion apparatus. In these cases Tom turned a deaf ear, though if the inventor were in want our hero relieved him.
But this case did not seem to be like anything Tom had ever met with before.
"Contracting trouble--blasting," repeated the youth, as he mused over what he had heard.
"That's it," the man went on. "Permit me to introduce myself" and he held out a card, on which was the name
MR. JOB TITUS
Down in the lower left-hand corner was a line:
"Titus Brothers, Contractors."
"I am glad to meet you, "Mr. Titus," Tom said warmly,