Tom Swift and His Giant Cannon | Page 8

led rather a precarious life, though never being actually in want.
"No, pardner," he said to Mr. Swift. "It's kind of you to ask me to stay; but this mine business has got a grip on me. I want to try it out. If you won't finance the project someone else may. I'll say good-bye, and--"
"Now just a minute," said Mr. Swift. "It's true, Alec, I had about made up my mind not to go into this thing, when this accident happened to Tom. Now you practically saved his life. You--"
"Oh, pshaw! I only acted on the spur of the moment. Anyone could have done what I did," protested the fortune-hunter.
"Oh, but you did it!" insisted Mr. Swift, "and you did it in the nick of time. Now I wouldn't for a moment think of offering you a reward for saving my son's life. But I do feel mighty friendly toward you--not that I didn't before--but I do want to help you. Alec, I will go into this business with you. We'll take a chance! I'll invest ten thousand dollars, and I'm not so awful worried about getting it back, either--though I don't believe in throwing money away."
"You won't throw it away in this case!" declared Mr. Peterson, eagerly. "I'm sure to find that mine; but it will take a little capital to work it. That's what I need--capital!"
"Well, I'll supply it to the extent of ten thousand dollars," said Mr. Swift. "Tom, what do you think of it? Am I foolish or not?"
"Not a bit of it, Dad!" cried the young man, who was now himself again. "I'm glad you took that chance, for, if you hadn't--well, I would have supplied the money myself--that's all," and he smiled at the fortune-hunter.


CHAPTER III
PLANNING A BIG GUN
"BUT, Tom, I don't see how in the world you can ever hope to make a bigger gun than that."
"I think it can be done, Ned," was the quiet answer of the young inventor. He looked up from some drawings on the table in the office of one of his shops. "Now I'll just show you--"
"Hold on, Tom. You know I have a very poor head for figures, even if I do help you out once in a while on some of your work. Skip the technical details, and give me the main facts."
The two young men--Ned Newton being Tom's special chum--were talking together over Tom's latest scheme.
It was several days after Tom's accident in the airship, when he had been saved by the prompt action of Mr. Peterson. That fortune-hunter, once he had the promise of Mr. Swift to invest in his somewhat visionary plan of locating a lost opal mine near the Panama Canal, had left the Swift homestead to arrange for fitting out the expedition of discovery. He had tried to prevail on Tom to accompany him, and, failing in that, tried to work on Mr. Damon.
"Bless my watch chain!" exclaimed that odd gentleman. "I would like to go with you first rate. But I'm so busy--so very busy-- that I can't think of it. I have simply neglected all my affairs, chasing around the country with Tom Swift. But if Tom goes I-- ahem! I think perhaps I could manage it--ahem!"
"I thought you were busy," laughed Tom.
"Oh, well, perhaps I could get a few weeks off. But I'm not going--no, bless my check book, I must get back to business!"
But as Mr. Damon was a retired gentleman of wealth, his "business" was more or less of a joke among his friends.
So then, a few days after the departure of Mr. Peterson, Tom and Ned sat in the former's office, discussing the young inventor's latest scheme.
"How big is the biggest gun ever made, Tom?" asked his chum. "I mean in feet, in inches, or in muzzle diameter, however they are measured."
"Well," began Tom, "of course some nation may, in secret, be making a bigger gun than any I have ever heard of. As far as I know, however, the largest one ever made for the United States was a sixteen-inch rifled cannon--that is, it was sixteen inches across at the muzzle, and I forget just how long. It weighed many tons, however, and it now lies, or did a few years ago, in a ditch at the Sandy Hook proving grounds. It was a failure."
"And yet you are figuring on making a cannon with a muzzle thirty inches across--almost a yard--and fifty feet long and to weigh--"
"No one can tell exactly how much it will weigh," interrupted Tom. "And I'm not altogether certain about the muzzle measurement, nor of the length. It's sort of in the air at present. Only I don't see why a larger gun than any that has yet been made, can't be constructed."
"If anybody can invent one, you can,