Tom Swift and his big dirigible

A GIANT’S STRENGTH

“What happened?” cried Ned Newton.

“We seem to have struck something,” Tom answered. In spite of the emergency and, probably, danger, the young inventor remained cool and collected.

“Struck something!” ejaculated Ned. “How could that be so, high in the air? Air travel isn’t yet as popular as autoing. If we were on the ground I could believe it.”

“We aren’t very high,” Tom said, glancing at the gage. “I have a strong suspicion that we have rammed the side of a mountain.”

“Whew!” whistled Ned. “That’s bad!”

“Luckily we were going slowly. Also somebody must have cut off the motors even before I signaled for it,” observed Tom. “At worse, I think we’ve crushed the false nose.” The Silver Cloud was provided with a fender, like those on autos, on the front of the cigar-shaped gas envelope of oralum. It was one of the last improvements designed by the young inventor.

“Well,” remarked Ned, not feeling so alarmed now, “if we’ve only got a bent fender, so to speak, what’s the matter with backing up out of the way of the mountain, if that’s what we hit, begging its pardon, and going on?”

“We’ll try,” Tom answered, laughing at Ned’s conceit, as he went to the door of his control cabin. He had heard the rush of feet and knew his officers and crew were hastening to report for orders.

“Maybe we hit another airship,” suggested Ned.

“No, I hardly think that,” Tom answered, trying to peer out of one of the cabin windows. “It’s hard to see.”

“It’s as thick as bean soup,” murmured Ned. “I can’t make out anything except a lot of fog and something dimly black beyond it.”

“That’s the mountain we hit, I think,” Tom said. “But I’ll have the search lights turned on and they may help a little.”

Another of his recent improvements was a battery of powerful lights, located on the outside of the oralum envelope and just below the control cabin. They had a new style of lens and the beams of light sent out were designed to penetrate fog and smoke. Of course no light will penetrate far under these conditions, but those of Tom Swift’s big dirigible were far ahead of any others yet invented.

Suddenly the white, murky mist all about the Silver Cloud was brightly illuminated and the observers in Tom’s control cabin, peering out and ahead, saw dimly just in front of them the dark, forest-grown, sloping side of a mountain. The big ship, sailing low in the fog, had rammed her nose into it.

“Well, it isn’t as bad as it might be,” Ned remarked, as he took an observation, aided by the gleaming fog-lights. “Can’t you back up and go on, Tom? Rise above the fog, maybe. The gas envelope isn’t cracked, is it?”

“No,” Tom answered, glancing at a gage. “Otherwise the lowered pressure, caused by escaping gas, would show here. The pressure is normal for this height.”

“Then pull out and let’s get out of this!” suggested Ned.

“Good advice if we can follow it,” Tom said. “I’ll try.”

“He gave the signal half speed astern, but though the motors tried to back the big dirigible, making her tremble with their power, they did not budge her.

“She’s held fast!” said Tom. “I was afraid of this.”

“What do you think has happened?” Ned wanted to know.

“Nothing serious; that is, to the airship herself,” Tom said. “But we have rammed her nose into a mountain side, and broken trees, rocks, and a tangle of bushes are holding us there.”

“You bucked the tornado!” cried Ned. “Why can’t you rip off the false nose, or fender, if you have to, as long as it won’t damage the gas envelope? Surely you have power enough to pull out of some broken trees!”

“You might think so,” Tom replied. “But did you ever see a big ocean liner made fast to her dock with big hawsers?”

“Of course,” Ned replied.

“Well,” went on the young inventor, “if those hawsers were taut and the liner started her engines, she could never get away from that dock in a thousand years. There must be play enough for her to get some momentum. That’s what we need, momentum. If the liner had a few feet play, or free movement, and could start ahead with her engines at full speed, she’d break those hawsers like thread. But if they hold her tight to the dock, her propellers would only churn the water.

“Now our propellers are only fanning air, so to speak. We can’t get enough movement to make our weight and speed count. What we’ll have to do is to cut loose from the holding tangle of trees.”

“How can we do that?” asked Ned.

“That remains to be seen,” Tom answered. “If this fog would only clear, I could see just what the trouble is.” At this moment Koku, who had been taken along on this trip at his earnest solicitation, came into the cabin, being a sort of privileged character.

“What um wrong, Master?” he asked.

“We ran into trees on the side of the mountain,” Tom answered. “We can’t pull loose. We’re like a football caught in the branches, Koku. We need somebody to give us a push off.”

“Me push!” grunted the giant, flexing his powerful hands and arms.

“By golly, do you know I think he’s got it!” cried Ned.

“Got what?” asked Tom.

“The right idea,” went on the manager. “There’s an exit out of the front end of your gas envelope, isn’t there, Tom? I mean in between the individual gas tank holders?”

“Yes, there’s a passage out through the nose to the mooring ring.”

“Big enough for Koku?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then,” went on Ned, “why not have him go out that way and cut us loose from the tangled, broken trees and bushes that are holding us fast? Koku’s giant strength may get us loose.”

Tom considered this for a moment, seeing the dangers, difficulties, and possibilities. Then he said:

“It’s a chance! Koku, come with me!”

“Sure, Master! Me push—me pull—bust anything!” chuckled the giant.

Passing along amidships through a central tube running the length of the dirigible, Tom, Koku, Ned, and some of the crew emerged on to a small platform in the very nose of the ship. There the cause of the stoppage was plain to be seen, for the fog was now lifting.

The Silver Cloud had rammed her front fender deep into the crotch of a big tree growing on the mountain side. The crotch was partly split down, and the fender was bent and broken. But the actual structure of the airship had sustained no damage. The fender was caught about fifty feet above the ground.

“There, Koku,” said Tom, pointing. “If you can climb out there and pull or chop those two parts of the tree crotch apart, you may free us and we can back out. Are you strong enough?”

“Sure!” grunted the giant. “Me show.”

Armed with a keen axe, Koku crawled out to the very edge of the platform, and went out of the ship through an emergency door. He climbed into the branches, braced his feet against one side of the Y in the tree and his back against the other part, being above the damaged nose fender which was caught fast.

“Now me push!” cried Koku. Supporting himself by his hands, he took a long breath, and those aboard the craft could hear the fibers of the already cracked tree beginning to rend and tear. But still the nose of the ship was held as in a vise. Then he used the axe for several minutes.

“You bust, now!” commanded Koku, and it seemed as if he would break himself so terrific was the strain. “Bust, tree!” he shouted.

The great tree split down farther. The Y shaped opening became wider, and Tom, seeing this, called to a man he had left in the control cabin to signal for full speed astern.

The great propellers whirled, and with a tearing loose of the damaged fender, part of which remained in the tree, the Silver Cloud was at last free.

“What about Koku?” cried Ned, for the giant was left in the tangle of branches.

“I’ll pick him up with a rope ladder,” Tom said. Then he signaled to the giant to climb down and wait on a level place at the foot of the mountain.

It did not take long to ascertain that the dirigible was damaged no more than the tearing away of her nose fender, which in no way interfered with her maneuvering. So a little later, the Silver Cloud hovering low over the level place, Koku was picked up, the fog having been driven away by a rising wind.

“That’s pretty nifty!” Ned remarked, as Tom had the rope ladder lowered from a windlass and drum which wound up the ladder again when Koku was on the lower end. “It saves a lot of climbing.”

“Yes,” Tom said, “I thought he’d be tired after breaking that big tree.”

Koku seemed to think nothing of his remarkable feat, but if it had not been for him it is probable that the craft might have been held there a long time until men with axes could have chopped down the forest giant.

“Well, that’s another adventure to our credit,” Tom said, as they reached the hangar that night. “And it gives me a new idea.”

“What?” asked Ned.

“A nose fender that can be detached and dropped off by pulling a lever from within the ship,” was the answer. “Then if we ram something again we shan’t be held up until Koku can free us.”

So this improvement was added to many others.

During the next week several other trial trips were made, though not to any great distance, and various improvements incorporated in the big craft of the air. Though there were many accounts in the paper of Tom Swift’s dirigible, no word came from the Jardine company.

One day Ned saw Tom carrying a large bouquet of flowers into the officers’ cabin.

“What’s the idea?” asked the manager. “Going to have a christening, Tom?”

“No. These are for Mary.”

“Mary?”

“Yes. I’ve a desire to take a longer trip for this test flight, and sail over Mt. Camon. Then, if all goes well, I’ll drop this bouquet and a note to the folks down by means of a little parachute. I thought it would surprise them.”

“I’ll say it will!” chuckled Ned. “Good for you! When are you going to start?”

“Pretty soon. Coming along?”

“Of course. You’d have to tie me to keep me back.”

At the time agreed upon the Silver Cloud took off in good shape, rose steadily and easily, and was soon soaring on her way to the great forest reserve in the midst of which stood the hotel on Mt. Camon.

“It certainly is dry,” observed Ned, as they flew low over a farming community and saw the arid fields, crops drying up, and, in many instances, farmers hauling water for their horses and cattle.

“I don’t see where the rain is keeping itself,” Tom said. “It’s as dry as a powder horn!”

The aviators made good time, and early that afternoon came in sight of the mountain summit on which the hotel stood.

“There it is!” cried Ned, who first sighted the resort. “Get the bouquet ready, Tom! Say, maybe you could make a landing on the ball field. Why don’t you try?”

Tom turned the helm over to his chum for a moment and began making an observation through his binoculars.

MIDNIGHT VISITORS

“Can you make a landing on that ball field?” Ned Newton asked, as the young inventor put aside the glasses and took over the steering wheel.

“I doubt it,” was the answer. “It would be too much of a risk to try. That ball field is too small. Though I could make a safe landing in a big enough place without a landing crew by manipulating the gas pressure, I don’t want to try it unless it’s necessary. Might damage the airship, and then I’d be out a lot more money.”

“That’s right. Don’t take any chances,” agreed Ned, who, as befitted a financial manager, was rightfully cautious. “But they see us!” he exclaimed, as he and Tom saw crowds pouring from the hotel, some one having spread word of the sight of the big dirigible.

“Yes, I suppose Mary, dad, and Mr. and Mrs. Nestor are in that bunch,” went on Tom. “I’ll go a bit lower and maybe we can pick ’em out.”

“Wonder if they take us for the Graf Zeppelin?” chuckled Ned.

“Oh, dad would know this boat,” Tom answered. “I fancy Mrs. Jardine would, too, for the last time I talked to her she had a small sketch of it she said her brother-in-law had given her.”

“Is Mrs. Jardine still at this hotel?”

“Oh, yes; she and her children. Mary has become quite friendly with them, she wrote me.”

The big dirigible was now just drifting along, the motors having been stopped, and was slowly settling toward the hotel. On the green lawn in front of the hotel the guests had assembled in great excitement. It was so still and quiet, with the machinery cut off, that the cheers of the hotel people could be heard.

“There’s Mary!” Tom exclaimed, pointing out a group of persons detached from the others.

“Yes, I see Mr. Damon, too!” ejaculated Ned. “Look! He’s swinging his hat!”

“He’ll be standing on his head next, he’s so easily excited,” laughed Tom. “I see dad, too! Hand me that bouquet, Ned!”

The bunch of flowers, to which Tom had fastened a little note for his wife, was attached to a small parachute and at the proper time was dropped through a trapdoor opening in the bottom of the main cabin, back of the control room. There was very little wind, and as the Silver Cloud hovered over the hotel Tom, Ned, and the others could see the flowers gently floating down. They fell within a short distance of Mary. Mr. Damon was seen to run and pick them up, and then, observing the note with Mary’s name, he handed them to her.

The air was so clear and the big, floating airship was so close to earth that in the silence which followed the dropping of the flowers, Tom could hear his wife call up to him:

“Thank you!”

Then there was a burst of applause over the clever and romantic feat, and Tom waved his hand to his wife, blowing her a kiss from his fingers, though she may not have seen that action.

To give the guests a good view of the wonderful ship, Tom slowly circled over the hotel several times. Then, to show what his craft could do, he speeded up the motors and raced along at roaring speed. He was higher in the air now, however, and could not make out individuals on the ground.

“Too bad we couldn’t land,” remarked Ned, as, with three dips of her “nose,” Tom made the Silver Cloud wave a final farewell salute to his wife and the others.

“Yes,” the young inventor agreed. “But I think this airship is about finished now, and I’m going to lock her in the hanger and take my vacation.”

“So you think you’ll have to keep her yourself, do you?” asked Ned. “I mean, have you given up the idea of trying to sell the dirigible?”

“I’d be glad to have the government, the Jardines, or any one else buy the Silver Cloud if we could get out of it with a decent profit,” Tom said. “As it is, she’s a white elephant on my hands. But we’ve certainly had no offers for her or even inquiries about her. So I’ll just park her after I make a few more changes and give her a last hard test.”

The trip back to Shopton was without incident, save that one of the motors cut out on account of ignition trouble. But those remaining were more than sufficient to drive the craft along, and she was soon safely housed.

Tom Swift went to his office to make some notes on the trip, incorporating in them suggestions to Mr. Jackson for certain changes, while Ned went over some accounts and tried to think of some way of making the Silver Cloud a profitable venture for the Swift firm.

It was past midnight and all was quiet in the office. The plant was shut down and only the watchmen were making their various rounds to be sure all was well.

Tom was writing a letter to Mary, intending to post it on his way home with Ned, when the latter, giving up with a sigh of regret an attempt to figure some way out of the financial puzzle, suddenly murmured:

“Hark!”

“What to?” Tom asked.

“I thought I heard some one coming along the hall.”

“The watchman, probably.”

“The watchman wouldn’t walk on his tiptoes like a thief,” whispered Ned. “I believe we are going to have unexpected visitors.”

Tom Swift quietly left his seat at the desk and moved softly across the room to the door. He opened it suddenly and as he did so there was a scurrying rush of feet. As Ned leaped to join his chum and Tom switched on a light in the corridor, they saw two dark forms vanishing around a turn.

“Come on!” cried Tom. “We’ve got to catch them!”

THE ESCAPE

Following Tom Swift out into the corridor, Ned Newton paused long enough to throw an emergency switch that flooded the different yards of the plant with brilliant electric light. At the same time alarm bells were set ringing in the various places where the different watchmen had their stations for the night.

“Stop! Hold on! Who are you?” shouted Tom, as he raced after the midnight visitors who had approached so stealthily but who had left in such a hurry when discovered.

There was no answer, naturally, and when Tom and Ned reached the turn in the hall, around which the two had disappeared, the fugitives were not in sight.

“We’ve got to get them!” cried Tom. “I’ve got to know what this means!”

“Looks as if some of the gangs that bothered us in the past were up to their old tricks,” commented Ned. “But wasn’t one of those fellows the dwarf, Tom?”

“I thought so; but I couldn’t be sure, coming out of the lighted office as I did.”

“The other fellow walked like Jardine,” went on Ned. “But what would he be doing here, coming in like a thief?”

“I can’t imagine,” Tom said, “unless he hoped to appeal to me to let him have a share in the dirigible in spite of what his brother has said.”

“He’s just about crazy enough for that,” agreed Ned. “But how did he and the dwarf get in without some of the watchmen seeing them?”

“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” decided Tom.

The mystery was solved a little later when at a gate on the north side of the plant, one seldom used, the watchman was found unconscious. Though when revived he was not found to be in the least injured. He told a strange tale.

Shortly before midnight, he said, when he was returning from punching one of his clocks, two men, one a dwarf, approached the gate and asked to be directed to a certain small town about ten miles away. They were in a car the engine of which was left running at the side of the road.

Suspecting nothing, the watchman, who had received the first inquiry from behind his wicket gate, opened it and came out. In an instant he was caught by the dwarf, a handkerchief saturated with some powerful chemical was pressed over his face, and he knew nothing more until revived by Tom and Ned.

“Jardine and the dwarf sneaked in here for some trick,” decided Tom. “Maybe they didn’t expect to find you and me in the office so late, Ned.”

“But what was their game, Tom?”

“Hanged if I know.”

“Maybe they wanted to steal the dirigible!”

“Jardine would be crazier than I think he is to try anything like that. But he may have hoped to damage the ship in revenge for what has happened. It’s a mystery.”

A careful search of the plant revealed nothing wrong, and the watchman at the dirigible hangar said he had seen nothing of the midnight callers. They had made their escape, probably through the gate where the watchman lay unconscious.

“I wish the Silver Cloud was off my hands,” complained Tom, as he and Ned left the plant after additional watchmen had been summoned from their homes near by and stationed about the place. “It’s a big success mechanically, but I can’t make any real use of it.”

“It’s certainly eaten into your money and I’m afraid is shaking our credit a bit. We’ll have to retrench as much as possible for a while if you can’t sell it,” declared Ned.

The next day a careful check-up all over the plant revealed nothing wrong, and a further test of the dirigible showed it to be almost perfect.

“I want to get a little speed out of her, and then I’ll be satisfied,” Tom said when the airship had been returned to the hangar after a short voyage around Shopton.

“Can you do it?” asked Ned.

“I think so,” was the answer. “And, Ned, I wish you’d write another letter to Lawrence Jardine, offering him a little better terms if he will buy the Silver Cloud. I’m willing to take a small loss on her if I can get it out of the way. I need the hangar for another type of craft I have in mind.”

“All right, I’ll try to get in touch with Jardine,” promised Ned. “But he’s a queer bird—not as queer as his brother, but as hard as nails.”

It was the day after this, when Tom was giving orders to have the Silver Cloud groomed for a final and most severe test of all, which was to take place with a full load of passengers and crew, that Ned Newton, reading the paper, gave a whistle of surprise.

“What’s the matter?” asked Tom. “Has Jardine sent word that he will buy the ship?”

“No. But read that!”

He indicated a small item which Tom took in at a glance. It stated that a man named Cosso Tobini had escaped from the jail in a small town near the Mt. Camon hotel.

“Tobini!” cried Tom. “Why, that’s the crazy gardener who wanted to knock down Mr. Damon.”

“Sure!” assented Ned. “And the one you told me chased the hotel manager with a knife.”

“That’s the fellow,” went on Tom. “A bad bird!”

“Well,” Ned remarked, “I suppose he’ll be after that manager’s scalp now.”

“Shouldn’t wonder,” Tom assented, and then a worried look came over his face.

“What’s the matter?” Ned asked.

“I was just thinking,” said Tom slowly. “I suppose this crazy Tobini may want to take another crack at Mr. Thorndyke or at Mr. Damon. And if he’s insane, as I really believe, he may fly into a rage against anybody—Mary or her parents or dad. I wish he was back in jail!” and Tom Swift began to pace nervously up and down.

THE FOREST OF FIRE

After reading of the escape of Cosso Tobini from jail, Tom Swift somewhat relieved the anxiety of his mind by getting in touch with the Mt. Camon hotel on the long distance telephone and talking to Mary. Without unduly alarming her, he told her of the escape of the madman, of which, however, she was already aware, and begged her to be careful.

“Oh, Tom dear,” said his wife, with a little laugh that echoed musically over the wire, “don’t worry! I’m all right. I have your own dear father to look after me, as well as mother and dad.”

“Yes, but be careful just the same,” advised Tom. “And tell Mr. Damon to watch out!”

“I will. But, bless my powder puff, as Mr. Damon might say, I’m sure there is no danger. Mr. Thorndyke, the manager, told us not to worry, that if Tobini came on the hotel grounds he would be immediately arrested.”

“It didn’t seem to do much good to arrest that bird before,” said Tom. “Better put him in a stronger jail next time.”

“I’ll have that attended to,” promised Mary, with a laugh. “Now tell me about yourself and the big dirigible.”

“We’re both all right, and so is Ned,” Tom answered, not speaking of his worries over the financing of the great airship.

“When are you coming up again, Tom?”

“Oh, pretty soon,” was the answer. “Then I’ll take a long vacation with you and the folks.”

“That will be lovely,” his wife murmured.

Neither of them realized how soon Tom Swift would appear on the scene nor under what tragic circumstances.

“Well, good-bye,” called Tom into the instrument. “Do you?”

“Of course I do!” said Mary earnestly. “Do you?”

“With all my heart!”

“Talking in cryptograms?” chuckled Ned.

“None of your business!” snapped Tom, and he blushed even under his coat of tan.

The day came when the Silver Cloud was to be given the most severe test since her construction. Up to now only a skeleton crew had been carried on the different trips, and there had not been a full load of gas and oil. No passengers at all had been taken up, the accommodations for the fifty that could be transported remaining vacant.

Now Tom Swift planned to go aloft with a full crew, enough gas, oil, and other supplies as if for a ten thousand mile trip, and he would have as his guests fifty persons from in and around Shopton. Some of the plant executives were to be allowed to bring such members of their families as they chose and the mayor and officials of the town were to get invitations.

“It will be some party!” predicted Ned. “Going to serve lunch?”

“Oh, sure! I want you to ask the newspapers to send some reporters along, if they wish, and newspaper men always like to eat.”

“Sure!” chuckled Ned. “And smoke, too. How about that? Will you permit smoking?”

“In certain rooms, yes. But they will be insulated from the danger of setting fire to the lifting gas. Not that it would explode like hydrogen, but I must take no chances.”

“You’d better not if I’m going along!” warned Ned, with a laugh.

There was great excitement in Shopton when a number of the townspeople, including the mayor and other officials, received word to assemble at the Swift plant on a certain morning, there to go aboard the Silver Cloud for a trip through the air.

There were many who would have given a large sum to be of the selected ones, but there were limits even to the big dirigible, though Tom promised his many friends, who had known him since boyhood, that at a later date he would give them all a ride.

With his various officers, Mr. Jackson, and the head workmen from the Swift manufacturing plant, Tom Swift went carefully over every part of the big craft. The weather reports had been collected by Mr. Larson and there were no adverse conditions for several hundred miles around, so Tom felt that his dirigible would give a good account of herself.

“Though I almost wish we would run into a storm,” he told Ned. “It would give the newspaper men something to write about.”

“Some of ’em might be too sick to write,” chuckled Ned, for though the Silver Cloud was very steady at most times, it could not be denied that she rolled and pitched in a powerful wind, and the feeling of new passengers was somewhat akin to seasickness.

“All ready?” called Tom from the navigating cabin when all the guests and the crew had assembled on board.

“All clear!” answered the captain of the ground crew.

“Walk her out!” Tom ordered.

The sun began to gleam on the silver-colored oralum plates of the big dirigible.

At last she was free from the hangar, and as the young inventor began to increase the power of the lifting gas, she tugged at her mooring and ground ropes like some great creature eager to be free that she might float in the blue space above.

“Let go!” cried Tom.

The ropes were cast off, the ship hesitated for a moment, seemed to quiver like a race horse, and then went up amid the cheers of the crowd that had gathered to see the final test.

The great propellers roared and throbbed, the nose of the Silver Cloud was pointed to the north, and away she went, gathering speed every moment until at last she was high above the throngs and like a silver thread in the vast blue space all around her.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Ned, who, in the control cabin with Tom, had observed the take-off.

“As nearly so as it’s possible to make her,” agreed the young inventor. “Now, if nothing goes wrong, I’ll show this crowd and those newspaper boys something!”

From then on the young inventor put his craft through her paces to the limit. She shot up to a great height. She went down until it seemed as if she must hit the earth and some of the faces went a little white. But at the right time Tom pulled the elevating rudders and the ship went up again, high above the clouds. Then he circled, went straight away at a pace of over a hundred and fifty miles an hour, and, as a final stunt, skimmed over a great lake, two hundred miles from Shopton.

There, hovering in the air like some queer balloon and with the blue water sparkling beneath, lunch was served on board and Tom presided as host. He was cheered to the echo.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever done, Mr. Swift,” said a New York newspaper reporter who had seen some of Tom’s other strange machines.

“I’m glad you think so,” was the modest answer.

Tom had but one regret—that Mary and his father were not along to witness his triumph. But he planned to have them on board later.

The trip was a success in every way. Not a mishap marred the supreme test, and when the ship went back to her hangar that night, papers containing reports of what had happened on board were already being sold in Shopton. The Silver Cloud carried a wireless telephone outfit that could be tuned in to the proper instruments on the ground.

The next day’s morning papers printed pages of the wonderful success of the Silver Cloud, and as Tom and Ned sat reading them in Tom’s private office, Ned remarked casually:

“Maybe Lawrence Jardine will change his mind now, pay for this ship, Tom, and buy her.”

“I think he’s too stubborn,” Tom remarked. “At the same time, I wish I could sell her at a profit. I really don’t know what to do with her. But I think it’s useless to appeal to Lawrence Jardine again. I wonder what’s become of him, anyhow?”

Hardly had he spoken when there was the sound of an auto coming along the road at a reckless pace. Tom and Ned saw a big machine, containing a chauffeur and a man at the sight of whom Ned exclaimed:

“Talk of the old Nick—here’s Lawrence Jardine now! And he’s coming here! Looks as if something was up!”

Jardine leaped from the machine as it came to such a sudden stop that the tires shrilly protested. He rushed into Tom’s office, his face showing some terrible emotion.

“What’s the matter?” Tom asked.

“Help!” gasped Lawrence Jardine. “The hotel at Mt. Camon is surrounded by a forest of fire! They’ll all perish! Can’t you do something? An airplane? My wife and children!”

He fell in a faint at Tom Swift’s feet.

“What did he say?” cried Ned, who had lingered behind Tom.

“Something about a forest on fire—at Mt. Camon!”

“The woods—dry as tinder!” exclaimed Ned. “A forest fire! But we haven’t heard of such a thing!”

“Quick!” gasped Tom. “Get me some water. I must revive him and find out what he means! The hotel surrounded by a forest of fire! And Mary’s there! And dad! Mr. Jardine, wake up! Tell me more! What do you mean?”

Tom Swift fell to shaking the unconscious figure as Ned dashed back into the office for water.

SPEEDING THROUGH THE AIR

“Looks as if he were coming around,” said Ned Newton in a low voice, as he bent over Lawrence Jardine.

“Yes,” assented the young inventor, raising the man’s head and pouring a little more water between his lips. “He went out cold.”

“I’ll get some aromatic spirits of ammonia from the doctor’s office,” went on Ned. In the plant of the Swift Construction Company there was always more or less danger of accidents, and there were a resident physician and nurse in constant attendance, as is the case in most large establishments employing much help.

Ned came back with the spirits of ammonia and this, administered to the unconscious man, completed the restoration that nature had already undertaken when he fell.

“Are they safe?” Jardine gasped, looking around as Tom supported his head on his knee. “Did you save them?”

“Who?” asked Tom, almost before he thought.

“My wife and children in the Mt. Camon hotel! They are surrounded by a ring of fire! Oh, no—they can’t be saved! I just heard the news! Then I rushed here. If any one can save them—save all the doomed ones—it must be you, Tom Swift!”

“Tell me about it!” demanded the young inventor. “Talk fast! If there’s a big fire, there’s no time to lose!”

“It is a big fire,” gasped Mr. Jardine, gradually recovering himself and slumping into a chair Ned brought forward. “The whole forest surrounding the hotel is blazing!”

“How do you know?”

“I had a long distance call from my wife. She was in terror. Even as she talked, I could hear men and women and children in the rooms about her shouting and crying and screaming in fright. It’s awful!”

Tom Swift’s thoughts went to Mary and the others in the hotel. He wanted to rush forth and save them, but first he must know exactly what to do. Eagerly he and Ned questioned Mr. Jardine for particulars.

“I have been stopping in Mansburg on some business,” went on the head of the Jardine firm. “It was there, not a half hour ago, that I received the telephone message from my wife. She said there was a trail of fire in the forest, completely surrounding the hotel. As you know, it’s in the midst of a dense forest with no open tracts for miles to check the progress of the flames.”

“How did the fire start?” Tom cried.

“My wife didn’t say. But she said the woods were as dry as tinder and that the fire was sweeping up from the bottom of the mountain at a terrible rate! Oh, you must do something!”

“Did your wife tell you anything else?” Tom wanted to know.

“She begged me to hurry up there and save them; but it’s a two days’ trip in a fast auto, and in the end an auto couldn’t reach them.”

“Why don’t they appeal for help to places near them?” asked Ned.

“They have, my wife said. The fire wardens are all out and have sworn in all the deputies they can muster. But the fire is terrible! There never was such a big one! Oh, we must do something!”

Tom dashed away, leaving Ned to minister to the visitor who, however, seemed to have fully recovered from his faint. But he was very weak and excited.

“Where’s he going?” asked the metal manufacturer, observing Tom.

“To a telephone, I guess,” was Ned’s answer. A moment later from Tom’s private office came the words:

“Long distance—in a hurry—it’s a case of life or death!”

He got long distance and gave his number. Then, after a short pause, Ned and Mr. Jardine heard him jiggle the hook and appeal to central to hurry and put through the call. There was again a period of tense silence, and then Tom repeated in a dull voice:

“Oh—they don’t answer. All—all right!”

The receiver clicked back on the hook and Tom rejoined Ned and Mr. Jardine.

“The wires are down,” Tom reported. “Burned, I suppose.”

“Then we must do something at once!” cried Ned.

“Yes,” agreed Tom. “We must get there as quickly as we can.”

He looked at his watch and glanced about the lower office as if seeking something.

“Take me with you!” pleaded Jardine. “That’s why I raced to get here in my car. I want to go with you, Tom Swift!”

“Just a moment,” said Tom, raising a restraining hand for silence. “I must think what is best to do. This is terrible!”

“Can’t you go to Mt. Camon in the big dirigible?” asked Mr. Jardine. “That will take you there as quickly as anything else. In that perhaps you can save my family—and yours,” he added after a moment of hesitation. “Oh, Tom Swift, you must do something!”

“I will, Mr. Jardine. But I must make some plans. Though the gas in the dirigible is not as explosive as that generally made use of, I don’t know that I dare risk sailing over a forest of fire in the machine. Let me think a moment!”

He paced the floor with nervous energy. Then he called to Ned:

“Go out and tell Blake to get the Wasp ready.” This was a small monoplane, very speedy, carrying two.

“Will you take me?” cried Mr. Jardine.

“Impossible—in the Wasp,” Tom said. “I must first see what the situation is before I can decide what to do. The forest fire will burn fast, but my Wasp will fly faster, and once I get a view of the burning forests I can decide how to act to save the hotel people.”

“My wife is there—my children, too!”

“My wife is there,” said Tom softly, “and my father. Also some dear friends. I will save them if possible. But first Ned Newton and I will go up in the little plane. It will not take more than an hour.”

“An hour, man! They may burn to death in that time.”

“I hope not—I think not,” Tom answered. “Anyhow, it is the only way. I must see if it is possible to use the dirigible. Hurry, Ned!”

But Ned Newton was already on his way to have the Wasp run from the hangar, and a few minutes later he and Tom climbed into the cockpit.

“Wait here until I return!” Tom ordered. “You could never get there in your car, Mr. Jardine.”

“Oh, but Mr. Swift! Take me! I’ll hang on outside!”

“Impossible!”

“Then get me another plane!”

“I have no other ready that could make the round trip in time. We may need you later, so wait here and I will do all I can.”

“Yes! Yes! You must, Tom Swift!”

As the Wasp roared lightly and at great speed through the air, under the guiding hand of the young inventor, Tom Swift’s heart was like lead, for he wondered what was the fate of his wife, his father, and the others.