Tom Swift and His Motor Cycle
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift and His Motor Cycle
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"Why, Rad, what are you doing?" cried Tom.
"Good land o' massy! Ef it ain't young Mistah Swift!" cried the
darky. "Howdy, Mistah Swift! Howdy! I'm jest tryin' t' saw some
wood, t' make a livin', but Boomerang he doan't seem t' want t'
lib," and with that Eradicate looked reproachfully at the animal.
"What seems to be the trouble, and how did you come to own this
sawmill?" asked Tom.
"I'll tell yo', Mistah Swift, I'll tell yo'," spoke Eradicate. "Sit
right yeah on dis log, an' I'll explanation it to yo'."
"The last time I saw you, you were preparing to go into the grass-
cutting business," went on Tom.
"Yais, sah! Dat's right. So I was. Yo' has got a memory, yo' suah
has. But it am dis yeah way. Grass ain't growin' quick enough, an'
so I traded off dat lawn-moah an' bought dis yeah mill. But now it
won't go, an' I suah am in trouble," and once more Eradicate Sampson
looked indignantly at Boomerang.
CHAPTER XXI.
ERADICATE GIVES A CLUE
"Tell me all about it," urged Tom sympathetically, for he had a
friendly feeling toward the aged darky.
"Well," began Eradicate, "I suah thought I were gwine to make money
cuttin' grass, 'specially after yo' done fixed mah moah. But 'peared
laik nobody wanted any grass cut. I trabeled all ober, an' I
couldn't git no jobs. Now me an' Boomerang has to eat, no mattah ef
he is contrary, so I had t' look fo' some new wuk. I traded dat
lawn-moah off fo' a cross-cut saw, but dat was such hard wuk dat I
gib it up. Den I got a chance to buy dis yeah outfit cheap, an' I
bought it."
Eradicate then went on to tell how he had purchased the portable
sawmill from a man who had no further use for it, and how he had
managed to transport it from a distant village to the spot where Tom
had met him. There he had secured permission to work a piece of
woodland on shares, sawing up the smaller trees into cord wood. He
had started in well enough, cutting down considerable timber, for
the colored man was a willing worker, but when he tried to start his
mill he met with trouble.
"I counted on Boomerang helpin' me," he said to Tom. "All he has to
do is walk on dat tread mill, an' keep goin'. Dat makes de saw go
'round, an' I saws de wood. But de trouble am dat I can't git
Boomerang to move. I done tried ebery means I knows on, an' he won't
go. I talked kind to him, an' I talked harsh. I done beat him wif a
club, an' I rub his ears soft laik, an' he allers did laik dat, but
he won't go. I fed him on carrots an' I gib him sugar, an' I eben
starve him, but he won't go. Heah I been tryin' fo' three days now
t' git him started, an' not a stick hab I sawed. De man what I'm
wukin' wif on shares he git mad, an' he say ef I doan't saw wood
pretty soon he gwine t' git annuder mill heah. Now I axes yo' fair,
Mistah Swift, ain't I got lots ob trouble?"
"You certainly seem to have," agreed Tom "But why is Boomerang so
obstinate? Usually on a treadmill a horse or a mule has to work
whether they like it or not. If they don't keep moving the platform
slides out from under them, and they come up against the back bar."
"Dat's what done happened to Boomerang," declared Eradicate. "He
done back up against de bar, an' dere he stay."
Tom went over and looked at the mill. The outfit was an old one, and
had seen much service, but the trained eye of the young inventor saw
that it could still be used effectively. Boomerang watched Tom, as
though aware that something unusual was about to happen.
"Heah I done gone an' 'vested mah money in dis yeah mill,"
complained Eradicate, "an' I ain't sawed up a single stick. Ef I
wasn't so kind-hearted I'd chastise dat mule wuss dan I has, dat's
what I would."
Tom said nothing. He was stooping down, looking at the gearing that
connected the tread mill with the shaft which revolved the saw.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation,
"Rad, have you been monkeying with this machinery?" he asked.
"Me? Good land, Mistah Swift, no, sah! I wouldn't tech it. It's jest
as I got it from de man I bought it oh. It worked when he had it,
but he used a hoss. It's all due to de contrariness ob Boomerang,
an' if I--"
"No, it isn't the mule's fault at all!" exclaimed Tom. "The mill is
out of gear, and tread is locked; that's all. The man you bought it
off probably did it so you could haul it along the road. I'll have
it fixed for you in a few minutes. Wait until I get some tools."
From the bag on his motor-cycle Tom got his implements. He first
unlocked the treadmill, so that the inclined platform, on which the
animal slowly walked, could revolve. No sooner had he done this than
Boomerang, feeling the slats under his hoofs moving away, started
forward. With a rattle the treadmill slid around.
"Good land o' massy! It's goin'!" cried Eradicate delightedly. "It
suah am goin'!" he added as he saw the mule, with nimble feet, send
the revolving, endless string of slats around and around. "But de
saw doan't move, Mistah Swift. Yo' am pretty smart at fixin' it as
much as yo' has, but I reckon it's too busted t' eber saw any wood.
I'se got bad luck, dat's what I has."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Tom. "The sawmill will be going in a moment.
All I have to do is to throw it into gear. See here, Rad. When you
want the saw to go you just throw this handle forward. That makes
the gears mesh."
"What's dat 'bout mush?" asked Eradicate.
"Mesh--not mush. I mean it makes the cogs fit together. See," and
Tom pressed the lever. In an instant, with a musical whirr, the saw
began revolving.
"Hurrah! Dere it goes! Golly! see de saw move!" cried the delighted
colored man. He seized a stick of wood, and in a trice it was sawed
through.
"Whoop!" yelled Eradicate. "I'm sabed now! Bless yo', Mistah Swift,
yo' suttinly am a wondah!"
"Now I'll show you how it works," went on Tom. "When you want to
stop Boomerang, you just pull this handle. That locks the tread, and
he can't move it," and, suiting the action to his words, Tom stopped
the mill. "Then," he went on, "when you want him to move, you pull
the handle this way," and he showed the darky how to do it. In a
moment the mule was moving again. Then Tom illustrated how to throw
the saw in and out of gear, and in a few minutes the sawmill was in
full operation, with a most energetic colored man feeding in logs to
be cut up into stove lengths.
"You ought to have an assistant, Rad," said Tom, after he had
watched the work for a while. "You could get more done then, and
move on to some other wood-patch."
"Dat's right, Mistah Swift, so I had. But I 'done tried, an'
couldn't git any. I ast seberal colored men, but dey'd radder
whitewash an' clean chicken coops. I guess I'll hab t' go it alone.
I ast a white man yisterday ef he wouldn't like t' pitch in an'
help, but he said he didn't like to wuk. He was a tramp, an' he had
de nerve to ask me fer money--me, a hard-wukin' coon."
"You didn't give it to him, I hope."
"No, indeedy, but he come so close to me dat I was askeered he might
take it from me, so I kept hold ob a club. He suah was a bad-lookin'
tramp, an' he kept laffin' all de while, like he was happy."
"What's that?" cried Tom, struck by the words of the colored man.
"Did he have a thick, brown beard?"
"Dat's what he had," answered Eradicate, pausing in the midst of his
work. "He suah were a funny sort ob tramp. His hands done looked
laik he neber wuked, an' he had a funny blue ring one finger, only
it wasn't a reg'lar ring, yo' know. It was pushed right inter his
skin, laik a man I seen at de circus once, all cobered wid funny
figgers."
Tom leaped to his feet.
"Which finger was the blue ring tattooed on?" he asked, and he
waited anxiously for the answer.
"Let me see, it were on de right--no, it were on de little finger ob
de left hand."
"Are you sure, Rad?"
"Suah, Mistah Swift. I took 'tic'lar notice, 'cause he carried a
stick in dat same hand."
"It must be my man--Happy Harry!" exclaimed Tom half aloud. "Which
way did he go, Rad, after he left you?"
"He went up de lake shore," replied the colored man. "He asked me if
I knowed ob an ole big house up dere, what nobody libed in, an' I
said I did. Den he left, an' I were glad ob it."
"Which house did you mean, Rad?"
"Why, dat ole mansion what General Harkness used t' lib in befo' de
wah. Dere ain't nobody libed in it fo' some years now, an' it's
deserted. Maybe a lot ob tramps stays in it, an' dat's where dis man
were goin'."
"Maybe," assented Tom, who was all excitement now. "Just where is
this old house, Rad?"
"Away up at de head ob Lake Carlopa. I uster wuk dere befo' de wah,
but it's been a good many years since quality folks libed dere. Why,
did yo' want t' see dat man, Mistah Swift?"
"Yes, Rad, I did, and very badly, too. I think he is the very person
I want. But don't say anything about it. I'm going to take a trip up
to that strange mansion. Maybe I'll get on the trail of Happy Harry
and the men who robbed me. I'm much obliged to you, Rad, for this
information. It's a good clue, I think. Strange that you should meet
the very tramp I've been searching for."
"Well, I suah am obliged to yo', Mistah Swift, fo' fixin' mah
sawmill."
"That's all right. What you told me more than pays for what I did,
Rad. Well, I'm going home now to tell dad, and then I'm going to start
out. Yesterday, you said it was, you saw Happy Harry? Well, I'll get
right after him," and leaving a somewhat surprised, but very much
delighted, colored man behind him, Tom mounted his motor-cycle and
started for home at a fast pace.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE STRANGE MANSION
"Dad, I've got a clue!" exclaimed Tom, hurrying into the house late
that afternoon, following a quick trip from where he had met
Eradicate with his sawmill. "A good clue, and I'm going to start
early in the morning to run it down."
"Wait a minute, now, Tom," cautioned his father slowly. "You know
what happens when you get excited. Nothing good was ever done in a
hurry."
"Well, I can't help being excited, dad. I think I'm on the trail of
those scoundrels. I almost wish I could start to-night."
"Suppose you tell me all about it," and Mr. Swift laid aside a
scientific book he was reading.
Whereupon Tom told of his meeting with the colored man, and what
Eradicate had said about the tramp.
"But he may not be the same Happy Harry you are looking for,"
interposed Mr. Swift. "Tramps who don't like to work, and who have a
jolly disposition, also those who ask for money and have designs
tattooed on their hands, are very common."
"Oh, but I'm sure this is the same one," declared Tom. "He wants to
stay in this neighborhood until he locates his confederates. That's
why he's hanging around. Now I have an idea that the deserted
mansion, where Eradicate used to work, and which once housed General
Harkness and his family, is the rendezvous of this gang of thieves."
"You are taking a great deal for granted, Tom."
"I don't think so, dad. I've got to assume something, and maybe I'm
wrong, but I don't think so. At any rate, I'm going to try, if
you'll let me."
"What do you mean to do?"
"I want to go to that deserted mansion and see what I can find. If I
locate the thieves, well--"
"You may run into danger."
"Then you admit I may be on the right track, dad?"
"Not at all," and Mr. Swift smiled at the quick manner in which Tom
turned the tables on him. "I admit there may be a band of tramps in
that house. Very likely there is--almost any deserted place would be
attractive to them. But they may not be the ones you seek. In fact,
I hardly see how they can be. The men who stole my model and patent
papers are wealthy. They would not be very likely to stay in
deserted houses."
"Perhaps some of the scoundrels whom they hired might, and through
them I can get on the track of the principals."
"Well, there is something in that," admitted Mr. Swift.
"Then may I go, dad?"
"I suppose so. We must leave nothing untried to get back the stolen
model and papers. But I don't want you to run any risks. If you
would only take some one with you. There's your chum, Ned Newton.
Perhaps he would go."
"No, I'd rather work it alone, dad. I'll be careful. Besides, Ned
could not get away from the bank. I may have to be gone a week, and
he has no motor-cycle. I can manage all right."
Tom was off bright and early. He had carefully laid his plans, and
had decided that he would not go direct to Pineford, which was the
nearest village to the old Harkness mansion.
"If those fellows are in hiding they will probably keep watch on who
comes to the village," thought Tom. "The arrival of some one on a
motor-cycle will be sure to be reported to them, and they may skip
out. I've got to come up from another direction, so I think I'll
circle around, and reach the mansion from the stretch of woods on
the north."
He had inquired from Eradicate as to the lay of the land, and had a
good general idea of it. He knew there was a patch of woodland on
one side of the mansion, while the other sides were open.
"I may not be able to ride through the woods," mused Tom, "but I'll
take my machine as close as I can, and walk the rest of the way.
Once I discover whether or not the gang is in the place, I'll know
what to do."
To follow out the plan he had laid down for himself meant that Tom
must take a roundabout way. It would necessitate being a whole day
on the road, before he would be near the head of Lake Carlopa, where
the Harkness house was located. The lake was a large one, and Tom
had never been to the upper end.
When he was within a few miles of Pineford, Tom took a road that
branched off and went around it. Stopping at night in a lonely
farmhouse, he pushed on the next morning, hoping to get to the woods
that night. But a puncture to one of the tires delayed him, and
after that was repaired he discovered something wrong with his
batteries. He had to go five miles out of his way to get new cells,
and it was dusk when he came to the stretch of woods which he knew
lay between him and the old mansion.
"I don't fancy starting in there at night," said Tom to himself.
"Guess I'd better stay somewhere around here until morning, and then
venture in. But the question is where to stay?"
The country was deserted, and for a mile or more he had seen no
houses. He kept on for some distance farther, the dusk falling
rapidly, and when he was about to turn back to retrace his way to
the last farmhouse he had passed, he saw a slab shanty at the side
of the road.
"That's better than nothing, provided they'll take me in for the
night," murmured Tom. "I'm going to ask, anyhow."
He found the shanty to be inhabited by an old man who made a living
burning charcoal. The place was not very attractive, but Tom did not
mind that, and finding the charcoal-burner a kindly old fellow, soon
made a bargain with him to remain all night.
Tom slept soundly, in spite of his strange surroundings, and after a
simple breakfast in the morning inquired of the old man the best way
of penetrating the forest.
"You'd best strike right along the old wood road," said the
charcoal-burner. "That leads right to the lake, and I think will
take you where you want to go. The old mansion is not far from the
lake shore."
"Near the lake, eh?" mused Tom as he started off, after thanking the
old fellow. "Now I wonder if I'd better try to get to it from the
water or the land side?"
He found it impossible to ride fast on the old wood road, and when he
judged he was so close to the lake that the noise of his motor-cycle
might be heard, he shut off the power, and walked along, pushing
it. It was hard traveling, and he felt weary, but he kept on, and
about noon was rewarded by a sight of something glittering through the
trees.
"That's the lake!" Tom exclaimed, half aloud. "I'm almost there."
A little later, having hidden his motor-cycle in a clump of bushes,
he made his way through the underbrush and stood on the shore of
Lake Carlopa. Cautiously Tom looked about him. It was getting well
on in the afternoon, and the sun was striking across the broad sheet
of water. Tom glanced up along the shore. Something amid a clump of
trees caught his eyes. It was the chimney of a house. The young
inventor walked a little distance along the lake shore. Suddenly he
saw, looming up in the forest, a large building. It needed but a
glance to show that it was falling into ruins, and had no signs of
life about it. Nor, for that matter, was there any life in the
forest around him, or on the lake that stretched out before him.
"I wonder if that can be the place?" whispered Tom, for, somehow,
the silence of the place was getting on his nerves. "It must be it,"
he went on. "It's just as Rad described it."
He stood looking at it, the sun striking full on the mysterious
mansion, hidden there amid the trees. Suddenly, as Tom looked, he
heard the "put-put" of a motor-boat. He turned to one side, and saw,
putting out from a little dock that he had not noticed before, a
small craft. It contained one man, and no sooner had the young
inventor caught a glimpse of him than he cried out:
"That's the man who jumped over our fence and escaped!"
Then, before the occupant of the boat could catch sight of him, Tom
turned and fled back into the bushes, out of view.
CHAPTER XXIII.
TOM IS PURSUED
Tom was so excited that he hardly knew what to do. His first thought
was to keep out of sight of the man in the boat, for the young
inventor did not want the criminals to suspect that he was on their
trail. To that end he ran back until he knew he could not be seen
from the lake. There he paused and peered through the bushes. He
caught a glimpse of the man in the motor-boat. The craft was making
fast time across the water.
"He didn't see me," murmured Tom. "Lucky I saw him first. Now what
had I better do?"
It was a hard question to answer. If he only had some one with whom
to consult he would have felt better, but he knew he had to rely on
himself. Tom was a resourceful lad, and he had often before been
obliged to depend on his wits. But this time very much was at stake,
and a false move might ruin everything.
"This is certainly the house," went on Tom, "and that man in the
boat is one of the fellows who helped rob me. Now the next thing to
do is to find out if the others of the gang are in the old mansion,
and, if they are, to see if dad's model and papers are there. Then
the next thing to do will be to get our things away, and I fancy
I'll have no easy job."
Well might Tom think this, for the men with whom he had to deal were
desperate characters, who had already dared much to accomplish their
ends, and who would do more before they would suffer defeat. Still,
they under-estimated the pluck of the lad who was pitted against
them.
"I might as well proceed on a certain plan, and have some system
about this affair," reasoned the lad. "Dad is a great believer in
system, so I'll lay out a plan and see how nearly I can follow it.
Let's see--what is the first thing to do?"
Tom considered a moment, going over the whole situation in his mind.
Then he went on, talking to himself alone there in the woods:
"It seems to me the first thing to do is to find out if the men are
in the house. To do that I've got to get closer and look in through
a window. Now, how to get closer?"
He considered that problem from all sides.
"It will hardly do to approach from the lake shore," he reasoned.
"for if they have a motor-boat and a dock, there must be a path from
the house to the water. If there is a path people are likely to walk
up or down it at any minute. The man in the boat might come back
unexpectedly and catch me. No, I can't risk approaching from the
lake shore. I've got to work my way up to the house by going through
the woods. That much is settled. Now to approach the house, and when
I get within seeing distance I'll settle the next point. One thing
at a time is a good rule, as dad used to say. Poor dad! I do hope I
can get his model and papers back for him."
Tom, who had been sitting on a log under a bush, staring at the
lake, arose. He was feeling rather weak and faint, and was at a loss
to account for it, until he remembered that he had had no dinner.
"And I'm not likely to get any," he remarked. "I'm not going to eat
until I see who's in that house. Maybe I won't then, and where
supper is coming from I don't know. But this is too important to be
considered in the same breath with a meal. Here goes."
Cautiously Tom made his way forward, taking care not to make too
much disturbance in the bushes. He had been on hunting trips, and
knew the value of silence in the woods. He had no paths to follow,
but he had noted the position of the sun, and though that luminary
was now sinking lower and lower in the west, he could see the gleam
of it through the trees, and knew in which direction from it lay the
deserted mansion.
Tom moved slowly, and stopped every now and then to listen. All the
sounds he heard were those made by the creatures of the woods--
birds, squirrels and rabbits. He went forward for half an hour,
though in that time he did not cover much ground, and he was just
beginning to think that the house must be near at hand when through
a fringe of bushes he saw the old mansion. It stood in the midst of
what had once been a fine park, but which was now overgrown with
weeds and tangled briars. The paths that led to the house were
almost out of sight, and the once beautiful home was partly in
ruins.
"I guess I can sneak up there and take a look in one of the
windows," thought the young inventor. He was about to advance, when
he suddenly stopped. He heard some one or some thing coming around
the corner of the mansion. A moment later a man came into view, and
Tom easily recognized him as one of those who had been in the
automobile. The heart of the young inventor beat so hard that he was
afraid the man would hear it, and Tom crouched down in the bushes to
keep out of sight. The man evidently did not suspect the presence of
a stranger, for, though he cast sharp glances into the tangled
undergrowth that fringed the house like a hedge, he did not seek to
investigate further. He walked slowly on, making a circuit of the
grounds. Tom remained hidden for several minutes, and was about to
proceed again, when the man reappeared. Then Tom saw the reason for
it.
"He's on guard!" the lad said to himself. "He's doing sentry duty. I
can't approach the house when he's there."
For an instant Tom felt a bitter disappointment. He had hoped to be
able to carry out his plan as he had mapped it. Now he would have to
make a change.
"I'll have to wait until night," he thought. "Then I can sneak up
and look in. The guard won't see me after dark. But it's going to be
no fun to stay here, without anything to eat. Still, I've got to do
it."
He remained where he was in the bushes. Several times, before the
sun set, the man doing sentry duty made the circuit of the house,
and Tom noted that occasionally he was gone for a long period. He
reasoned that the man had gone into the mansion to confer with his
confederates.
"If I only knew what was going on in there," thought Tom. "Maybe,
after all, the men haven't got the model and papers here. Yet, if
they haven't, why are they staying in the old house? I must get a
look in and see what's going on. Lucky there are no shades to the
windows. I wish it would get dark."
It seemed that the sun would never go down and give place to dusk,
but finally Tom, crouching in his hiding place, saw the shadows grow
longer and longer, and finally the twilight of the woods gave place
to a density that was hard to penetrate. Tom waited some time to see
if the guard kept up the circuit, but with the approach of night the
man seemed to have gone into the house. Tom saw a light gleam out
from the lonely mansion. It came from a window on the ground floor.
"There's my chance!" exclaimed the lad, and, crawling from his
hiding place, he advanced cautiously toward it.
Tom went forward only a few feet at a time, pausing almost every
other step to listen. He heard no sounds, and was reassured. Nearer
and nearer he came to the old house. The gleam of the light fell
upon his face, and fearful that some one might be looking from the
window, he shifted his course, so as to come up from one side.
Slowly, very slowly he advanced, until he was right under the
window. Then he found that it was too high up to admit of his
looking in. He felt about until he had a stone to stand on.
Softly he drew himself up inch by inch. He could hear the murmur of
voices in the room. Now the top of his head was on a level with the
sill. A few more inches and his eyes could take in the room and the
occupants. He was scarcely breathing. Up, up he raised himself until
he could look into the apartment, and the sight which met his eyes
nearly caused him to lose his hold and topple backward. For grouped
around a table in a big room were the three men whom he had seen in
the automobile. But what attracted his attention more than the sight
of the men was an object on the table. It was the stolen model! The
men were inspecting it, and operating it, as he could see. One of
the trio had a bundle of papers in his hand, and Tom was sure they
were the ones stolen from him. But there could be no doubt about the
model of the turbine motor. There it was in plain sight. He had
tracked the thieves to their hiding place.
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