Tom Swift and his Great Searchlight
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift and his Great Searchlight
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"Did the smugglers rush anything over last night?" asked Tom.
"No, we evidently had them frightened. But I shouldn't be surprised
but what they made the attempt to-night. We'll go back toward the
St. Regis Indian reservation, where they were getting ready to
unload that steamer, and hover around the border there. Something is
sure to happen, sooner or later."
"I guess that's as good a plan as any," agreed Tom, and in a little
while they started.
All that night they hovered over the border, sailing back and forth,
flashing the great light at intervals to pick up the white wings of
a smuggling airship. But they saw nothing.
Mr. Period was in despair, as he fully counted on a capture being
made while he was present, so that he might see the moving pictures
made. But it was not to be.
The wizard camera was all in readiness, but there was no need to
start the automatic machinery. For, search as Tom and his friends
did for a trace of the smugglers, they could see nothing. They put
on full speed, and even went as far as the limits of the Indian
reservation, but to no purpose. They heard no throbbing motor, no
whizz of great propellers, and saw no white, canvas wings against
the dark background of the sky, as Tom's craft made her way
noiselessly along.
"I guess we've frightened them away," said Mr. Whitford dubiously,
as it came near morning, and nothing suspicious had been seen or
heard. "They're holding back their goods, Tom until they think they
can take us unawares. Then they'll rush a big shipment over."
"Then's the time we must catch them," declared the young inventor.
"We may as well go back now."
"And not a picture!" exclaimed Mr. Period tragically. "Well, be sure
to get good ones when you do make a capture, Tom."
"I will," promised the young inventor. Then, with a last sweep along
the border he turned the nose of his craft toward Logansville. He
had almost reached the place, and was flying rather low over the
country roads, when Ned called:
"Hark! I hear something!"
The unmistakable noise of a gasolene motor in operation could be
distinguished.
"There they are!" cried Mr. Period.
"Bless my honeysuckle vine!" gasped Mr. Damon.
"The light, Ned, the light!" cried Tom.
His chum flashed the powerful beam all around the horizon, and
toward the sky, but nothing was visible.
"Try down below," suggested Mr. Whitford.
Ned sent the beams earthward. And there, in the glare, they saw a
youth speeding along on a motor-cycle. In an instant Tom grabbed up
the binoculars and focussed them on the rider.
"It's Andy Foger!" he cried.
CHAPTER XXIII
NED IS MISSING
There was a period of silence, following Tom's startling
announcement. There were several plate glass windows in the floor of
the airship, and through these they all gazed at the youth on the
motor-cycle. Only Tom, however, by the aid of the glasses, was able
to make out his features.
"Bless my spark plug! Andy Foger!" cried Mr. Damon. "Are you going
to try to catch him?"
"Get him and break chug-chug machine!" suggested Koku.
"What do you suppose he's up to, Tom?" asked Ned.
"Andy Foger speeding along at this hour of the morning," remarked
Mr. Whitford. "There must be something in the wind."
"Get a moving picture of him," urged Mr. Period. "I might be able to
use that."
"I hardly think it would be worth while," decided Tom. "You see Andy
hasn't done anything criminal, as far as we know. Of course I think
he is capable of it, but that's a different thing. He may be out
only on a pleasure jaunt, and he could stop us from showing the
pictures, if we took them."
"That's so," agreed Mr. Period. "Don't run any risks of a lawsuit.
It takes up too much of my time. Never mind the pictures."
"Just capture him, Tom, and see what he is doing," suggested Mr.
Damon. "Bless my chewing gum! But he must be up to something."
"Well, he's aware of the fact that we're watching him, at all
events!" exclaimed Mr. Whitford, for, at that moment, Andy, having
seen the glare of the light, glanced up. They could see him looking
at him, and, a second later, the Shopton bully steered his machine
down a side road where the overhanging trees were so thick that he
could not be made out, even by the powerful gleams of the great
searchlight.
"He's gone!" gasped Ned.
"Afraid I guess," added Mr. Damon. "That shows he was up to
something wrong. Well, what are we going to do?"
"Nothing, that I can see," spoke Mr. Whitford. "We can only go back
to our camping place, and make another try. This Andy Foger may, or
may not, be in with the smugglers. That's something we have yet to
prove. However, we can't do anything now."
In vain did Ned try to get the bully within range of the light. They
could hear the sounds of the motor cycle growing more and more
faint, and then, as it was rapidly getting light, and as they did
not want to be seen dropping into their camping place, they made all
haste toward it, before dawn should break.
"Well, I can't spend any more time here," declared Mr. Period, when
a hasty breakfast had been served.
"Will you ride back with me?" asked Mr. Whitford of the moving
picture man.
"Will I? Well, I guess I will! You can't lose me! I'm not going to
be captured by those smugglers. I'd be a valuable man for them to
have as a hostage. They'd probably ask a million dollars ransom for
me," and Mr. Period carefully straightened his brilliant red
necktie.
Soon he and Mr. Whitford were riding back to town, taking a
roundabout way, as the agent always did, to throw any possible spies
off the track.
Everyone, even including the giant Koku was tired enough to take a
sleep after dinner. It was about three o'clock when Ned awoke, and
he found Tom already up, and at the wireless instrument, which was
clicking and buzzing.
"Message coming?" asked the young bank clerk.
Tom nodded, and clasped the receiver over his ear. A moment later he
began jotting down a message.
"Mr. Whitford says he has a tip that something is going to take
place to-night," read the young inventor a few minutes later. "The
smugglers have accumulated a big store of goods, and they are
anxious to get them over the border. There are silks, laces,
diamonds, and other things on which there is a high duty, or tax for
bringing into the United States. He will be here early, and we must
be ready for a start at once."
"All right. I guess we are ready now. Say, I'm going over to that
little brook, and see if I can catch a few trout for supper."
"All right. Good idea. Don't be gone too long."
"I won't. Say, where is my coat, anyhow? I never can seem to keep
track of that, or my cap either."
"Never mind. Wear mine, and you won't be delayed looking for them,"
so Ned donned Tom's garment and headpiece, and set out.
Three hours passed, and Mr. Damon prepared to get supper.
"I wonder why Ned doesn't come back with the fish?" he said. "It's
time, if we're going to cook them to-night."
"That's right, he ought to be here," agreed Tom. "Koku take a walk
over to the trout brook, and tell Mr. Ned to come here, whether he
has any fish or not."
"Sure, me go, Mr. Tom!"
Koku was gone perhaps five minutes, and when he came back he was
much excited.
"Mr. Ned he no there!" the giant cried. "But fish pole all broken,
and ground all full of holes. Look like fight."
Tom started for the place where he knew Ned usually went to fish.
Koku and Mr. Damon followed. On reaching it our hero saw indeed that
the ground was "full of holes," as the giant described the
indentations made by the heels of boots and shoes.
"There's been a fight here!" cried Tom.
"Yes, and Ned is missing," added Mr. Damon.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE NIGHT RACE
The three looked at each other. For a moment they could not
understand, and then, as they stood there, the meaning came to them.
"The smugglers!" whispered Tom.
"Of course!" agreed Mr. Damon. "And they must have taken him for
you, Tom, for he had on your coat and cap. What can they have done
with him?"
"Taken him away, that's evident," spoke Tom. "Let's look around, and
see if we can find him."
They looked, but to no purpose. Ned had disappeared. There were the
signs of a struggle, the fish rod was broken in several places, as
if Ned had used it as a club, and the ground was torn up.
"Bless my tin whistle!" cried Mr. Damon. "What shall we do?"
For a moment no one knew what to say, then, as they looked at each
other in silence, a voice called:
"I say! What's up? What's the matter? Where are you all? Hey, Tom
Swift!"
"It's Mr. Whitford!" cried Tom. "He's just in time." Then he called
in louder tones:
"Here we are! In the woods by the trout brook! Come on over! Ned is
gone!"
There was a commotion in the bushes, the trampling of a horse, and a
moment later the government agent had joined the others.
"What's this?" he cried. "Ned gone? What do you mean?"
"He's missing. The smugglers have him, I'm afraid," explained Tom,
and then he gave the details.
"It certainly looks so," agreed Mr. Whitford. "His wearing of your
coat and cap fooled them. They must have spied out this camping
place, and they were in hiding. When they saw Ned coming to fish
they took him for you. Having failed in their attempt to damage the
airship, they decided to get her captain. Probably they thought that
if they did the Falcon could not be run, and they would be safe. But
they got the wrong man."
"Then we must get Ned back at once!" cried Tom. "Come on, we'll
start right away! Where do you think we can nab them, Mr. Whitford?"
"Wait a minute," suggested the government agent. He seemed in deep
thought, and paced up and down. It was clear that a great question
was confronting him.
"Well!" exclaimed Tom impatiently, "if we're going to get Ned we
must start at once."
"Perhaps it would be best not to try to rescue Ned at once," said
the custom house man after a pause.
"What!" cried Tom. "Not rescue Ned, my best chum?"
"Not at once," repeated Mr. Whitford. "Look here, Tom. I know it
seems a hard thing to say, but perhaps if we proceed on our original
plan, to hover over the border, and get on the trail of the
smugglers, chasing them to where they land the goods in the United
States, it will be best."
"And not rescue Ned?"
"We can best rescue him by catching the smugglers."
"Then you think--"
"That they have him with them--on board one of their airships very
likely. If we get THEM we'll have NED."
"Then we'll get 'em!" cried Tom with energy. "Come on back to the
Falcon. We'll get ready for a big flight!"
"Yes, I think they'll make a desperate effort to-night," went on the
agent. "They have a lot of goods ready to rush over the border, and
the fact that they tried to capture you, shows that they are ready
to pull off a big trick. I think if we can catch them to-night, it
will put an end to their operations, and, at the same time, bring
Ned back to us."
"Where do you think they will start to cross the line?" asked Tom.
"Near the place where we saw the man waving the flags. I have
information to the effect that they have a store of valuable goods
there. They imagine that they have the master of the airship, and
the owner of the great searchlight in their power, and that they can
not be molested, so they will be bold."
"But they'll soon find out that Ned isn't Tom," said Mr. Damon.
"No they won't! Not if it depends on Ned!" cried Tom. "Ned is game.
He'll soon get wise to the fact that they have taken him for me, and
he'll carry on the deception. None of the smugglers know me
intimately."
"Unless Andy Foger should be with them," suggested Mr. Damon.
"Oh, Ned can fool Andy any day. Come on, Mr. Whitford. We'll get the
smugglers to-night, spoil their game, and rescue Ned. Somehow, I
feel that we're going to succeed."
"Bless my tin dishpan!" cried Mr. Damon. "I hope we do."
Slowly, and with no very cheerful hearts, they filed away from the
scene of Ned's capture. In spite of the fact that they did not think
he would be harshly treated, they worried about him, Tom especially.
A hasty supper was eaten, and then, Tom, having seen that everything
aboard the ship was in good order, sent her aloft on what he hoped
would be the last chase after the smugglers. He decided to have Mr.
Damon steer the craft, as this was comparatively easy, once she was
started on her course, while the young inventor would manage the
searchlight, and start the automatic wizard camera, in case there
was anything to photograph.
Up and up went the Falcon, and soon she was making her way toward
the St. Regis Indian reservation, near which it was expected the
smugglers would start. Tom put out every light, as he wanted to
remain in darkness, until he could see a moving glow in the sky that
would tell him of a rival airship on the wing.
It did not take them long to reach the desired spot, and they
hovered in the air over it, every one with tense nerves, waiting for
what would happen next.
Tom did not want to show his searchlight just yet, as he feared the
gleam of it might stop the operations of the smugglers. So he waited
in dark-ness, approaching close to the earth in his noiseless ship
several times, and endeavoring to see something through the powerful
night glasses.
Suddenly, from below them, came a subdued throb and hum of a motor.
"There they are!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.
"I think so," agreed Tom. He looked below. He saw two flickering
lights, rather far apart. Mr. Whitford observed them at the same
moment.
"There are TWO of them!" exclaimed the agent, "TWO airships, Tom!"
"So I see. Koku, get out my electric rifle. We can't chase two, if
they separate, so I may have to stop one. It's best to be prepared.
I'm going to follow them in the dark, until they get over the
border, and then I'll turn on the light and the camera. Then it will
be a race to the finish."
The twin lights came nearer. Tom stood with his mouth to the signal
tube that communicated with Mr. Damon in the pilot house. From a
side window he watched the smugglers' airships. They shot upward and
then came on straight ahead, to pass to one side of him. Now they
were past. Tom started the wizard camera.
"Half speed ahead!" the young inventor signalled, and the Falcon
shot forward. The night race was on.
CHAPTER XXV
THE CAPTURE--CONCLUSION
"Do you think they know we are here, Tom?" asked Mr. Whitford, as he
stood at the side of the young inventor in the motor room.
"I don't believe so, as yet. They can't hear us, and, unless they
have pretty powerful glasses, they can't pick us up. We can soon
tell however, if they are aware that we are following them."
"Have you made any plan about capturing them?"
"No, I'm going to wait and see what turns up. I can't certainly
chase two of them, if they separate, and that's why I'm going to
cripple one if I have to."
"But won't that be dangerous? I don't want to see any of them
killed, or even hurt, though they are smugglers."
"And I don't want to hurt them, either. If worst comes to worst I'm
going to put a few holes in the wing planes of the smaller craft.
That will cause her to lose headway, and she can't keep up. They'll
have to volplane to earth, but, if they know anything at all about
airships, they can do that easily, and not get a bit hurt. That will
put them out of the race, and I can keep on after the big ship. I
fancy that carries the more valuable cargo."
"I presume so. Well, don't bring the one to earth until you get over
Uncle Sam's territory, and then maybe there will be a chance to
capture them, and the goods too."
"I will," promised Tom. They were still over Canadian territory, but
were rapidly approaching the border.
"I think I will send a wireless to my men in Logansville, to start
out and try to pick up the crippled airship after you disable her,"
decided Mr. Whitford, and as Tom agreed that this was a good plan,
the wireless was soon cracking away, the government agent being an
adept in its use.
"I've told them we'd give another signal to tell them, as nearly as
possible where we made them take to earth," he said to Tom, and the
young inventor nodded in agreement.
"Ned in them ship?" asked Koku, as he came back from the pilot house
to report that Mr. Damon was all right, and needed no help.
"Yes, I think Ned is in one of them," said Tom. "The big one most
likely. Poor Ned a prisoner! Well, I'll soon have him away from
them--if nothing happens," and Tom looked about the motor room, to
make sure that every piece of apparatus was working perfectly.
The two airships of the smugglers were hanging close together, and
it was evident that the larger one had to make her pace slow, so as
not to get ahead of the small craft. Tom followed on relentlessly,
not using half his speed, but creeping on silently in the darkness.
"We're over the United States now," said Mr. Whitford, after a
glance earthward through the binoculars. "Let 'em get a little
farther over the line before you pop 'em with your electric rifle,
Tom."
Our hero nodded, and looked out of a side window to note the
progress of the smugglers. For several miles the chase was thus kept
up, and then, suddenly the smaller craft was seen to swerve to one
side.
"They are separating!" cried Mr. Whitford, at the same time Mr.
Damon called through the tube from the pilot house:
"Which one shall I follow, Tom?"
"The big one," the youth answered. "I'll take care of the other!"
With a quick motion he flashed the current into the great
searchlight, and, calling to Mr. Whitford to hold it so that the
beams played on the small aeroplane, Tom leveled his wonderful
electric rifle at the big stretch of canvas. He pressed the lever, a
streak of blue flame shot out through an opened port, and, an
instant later, the small craft of the smugglers was seen to stagger
about, dipping to one side.
"There they come!" cried Mr. Whitford. "They're done for!"
"One shot more," said Tom grimly. "It won't hurt 'em!"
Again the deadly electric rifle sent out its wireless charge, and
the airship slowly fluttered toward the earth.
"They're volplaning down!" cried Tom. "That's the end of them. Now
to catch the other!"
"Take the lantern!" cried Mr. Whitford. "I'm going to send a
wireless to my men to get after this disabled craft."
Tom swung the beam of the searchlight forward and a moment later had
picked up the big aeroplane. It was some distance in advance, and
going like the wind. He heard the automatic camera clicking away.
"They speeded her up as soon as they saw what was on!" cried Tom.
"But we haven't begun to go yet!"
He signalled to Mr. Damon, who pulled over the accelerating lever
and instantly the Falcon responded. Now indeed the race was on in
earnest. The smugglers must have understood this, for they tried all
their tactics to throw the pursuing airship off the track. They
dodged and twisted, now going up, and now going down, and even
trying to turn back, but Tom headed them off. Ever the great beam of
light shone relentlessly on them, like some avenging eye. They could
not escape.
"Are we gaining?" cried Mr. Whitford.
"A little, and slowly," answered Tom. "They have a bigger load on
than when we chased them before, but still they have a speed almost
equal to ours. They must have a magnificent motor."
Faster and faster sped on the Falcon. The other craft kept ahead of
her, however, though Tom could see that, inch by inch, he was
overhauling her.
"Where do they seem to be heading for?" asked the government agent.
"Shopton, as near as I can make out," replied the youth. "They
probably want to get there ahead of us, and hide the goods. I must
prevent that. Mr. Damon is steering better than he ever did before."
Tom shifted the light to keep track of the smugglers, who had dipped
downward on a steep slant. Then they shot upward, but the Falcon was
after them.
The hours of the night passed. The chase was kept up. Try as the
smugglers did, they could not shake Tom off. Nearer and nearer he
crept. There was the gray dawn of morning in the sky, and Tom knew,
from the great speed they had traveled that they must be near
Shopton.
"They're slowing up. Tom!" suddenly cried Mr. Whitford who was
watching them through an open port.
"Yes, I guess they must have heated some of their bearings. Well,
here's where I capture them, if it's ever to be. Koku, let down the
grappling anchor."
"Are you really going to capture them, Tom?" asked the custom
officer.
"I'm going to try," was the answer, as Koku came back to say that
the anchor was dragging over the stern by a long rope.
"You work the light, Mr. Whitford," cried Tom. "I'm going to relieve
Mr. Damon in the pilot house. He can help you here. It will be all
over in another minute."
In the pilot house Tom grasped the steering levers. Then in a final
burst of speed he sent his craft above, and past that of the
smugglers.
Suddenly he felt a shock. It was the grappling anchor catching in
the rail of the other air craft. A shout of dismay arose from the
smugglers.
"You've got 'em! You've got 'em, Tom!" yelled Mr. Whitford.
"Bless my hasty pudding! So he has!" gasped Mr. Damon.
Changing the course of his craft Tom sent the Falcon toward the
earth, pulling the other aeroplane with him. Down and down he went,
and the frantic efforts of the smugglers to release themselves were
useless. They were pulled along by the powerful airship of our hero.
A few minutes later Tom picked out a good landing place in the dim
light of the breaking dawn, and went to earth. Jamming on the brakes
he leaped from the pilot house to the stern of his own craft,
catching up his electric rifle. The other airship, caught by the
grappling anchor at the end of a long rope, was just settling down,
those in her having the good sense to shut off their power, and
volplane when they found that they could not escape.
As the smugglers' craft touched the earth, several figures leaped
from her, and started to run away.
"Hold on!" cried Tom. "I've got you all covered with the electric
rifle! Don't move! Koku, you, and Mr. Whitford and Mr. Damon take
care of them. Tie 'em up."
"Bless my hat band!" cried the eccentric man. "What a great capture!
Where are we?"
"Not far from Shopton," answered Tom. "But look after the
prisoners."
There was a cry of astonishment from Mr. Whitford as he reached the
sullen occupants of the smugglers' craft.
"Here are the Fogers--father and son!" the agent called to Tom.
"They were in it after all. Great Scott! What a surprise. And here
are a lot of men whom I've been after for some time! Oh, Tom Swift,
this IS a capture."
"What right have you to use these high-handed methods on us?"
demanded Mr. Foger pompously.
"Yes, dad make 'em let us go; we haven't done anything!" snarled
Andy.
"I guess you won't go yet a while," said the agent. "I'll have a
look inside this craft. Keep 'em covered, Tom."
"I will. I guess Andy knows what this rifle can do. See if Ned is a
prisoner."
There was a few moments of waiting during which Koku and Mr. Damon
securely bound the prisoners. Then Mr. Whitford reappeared. He was
accompanied by some one.
"Hello, Tom!" called the latter. "I'm all right. Much obliged for
the rescue."
"Are you all right, Ned?" asked Tom, of his chum.
"Yes, except that they kept me gagged. The men who captured me took
me for you, and, after the Fogers found out the mistake, they
decided to keep me anyhow. Say, you've made a great haul."
And so it proved, for in the airship was a quantity of valuable
silks and laces, while on the persons of the smugglers, including
Mr. Foger, were several packets of diamonds. These were taken
possession of by Mr. Whitford, who also confiscated the bales and
packages.
Ned was soon aboard the Falcon, while the prisoners, securely tied
were laid in the cabin of their own craft with Koku to stand guard
over them. Mr. Damon went to Shopton, which was the nearest town,
for police aid, and soon the smugglers were safe in jail, though Mr.
Foger protested vigorously against going.
Ned explained how he had been pounced upon by two men when he was
fishing, and told how without a chance to warn his friends, he had
been gagged and bound and taken to the headquarters of the smugglers
in Canada, just over the border. They went by carriages. Then the
Fogers, who, it seemed, were hand in glove with the law violators,
saw him, and identified him. The smugglers had thought they were
capturing Tom.
"It was your coat and hat that did it, Tom," explained Ned. "I
fought against being taken away, but when I happened to think if
they took me for you it might be a trick against them. And it was.
The Fogers didn't discover the mistake until just before we started."
"They planned for a big shipment of goods last night and used two
airships. I don't know what became of the other."
"We've got her, and the men, too," interposed Mr. Whitford, as this
conversation was taking place several hours later in the Swift home.
"I just had a wire from my deputy. They got right after the damaged
airship, and reached her just as the men were hiding the goods, and
preparing to dismantle the craft. We have them all, thanks to you,
Tom!"
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