Tom Swift and his flying boat;

“You have convinced yourself that this amount will finance the great scheme, have you, Tom?” asked Ned Newton, leaning back in his chair in the private office of the Swift Construction Company at Shopton. “We can’t be too particular about the financial end of it.”

“All right, Old Cerberus,” laughed Tom Swift, who called his friend everything from the “Watchdog of the Treasury” to “Tightwad, the Penny Squeezer.” “I’ve told you how far I have gone. I have O.K.’d several contracts for parts of the Winged Arrow——”

“Is that going to be the name of the boat?”

“I think so. We have to call her something. I am going to lay her keel—the keel of her boat-cabin—within the fortnight, if circumstances permit. If I don’t fall down on it, Ned, she is going to be a worthy craft!”

“Naturally,” Ned rejoined loyally. “You would not waste your time on anything mediocre, I am sure.”

“Many, many thanks,” returned Tom, getting up to bow to his treasurer.

“But tell me more about it. Let’s have the particulars,” said Ned, with interest.

“I will give you a few figures to consider,” Tom said promptly, picking up a paper from his desk and reading from it. “The boat will be sixty feet long. That is about the length of the keel. She will have cabin space for ten or twelve people. I plan to have the wings spread at least one hundred and ten feet. She will be driven by two Liberty motors, each of four hundred horsepower. If I can’t get a hundred miles an hour speed out of her I shall be gravely disappointed.”

“Whew! Some boat!” muttered Ned. “But if it is practical, we may make some money out of it.”

“Miser!” chuckled Tom.

“That’s all right. Just spending money for the fun of it will get you nowhere,” said Ned soberly. “It is going to cost a pretty penny. But if you can sell it to the Government, for instance; or some government——”

“Whatever I build, is at the service of our country,” Tom said promptly. “But I am not going to peddle my inventions to other nations. I don’t need to.”

“‘Pride goeth before a fall,’” quoted Ned Newton. “The time may come when the Swift Construction Company will need cash. Then these experiments of yours will breed some ducats.”

“This flying boat is my pet project, Ned,” Tom said soberly. “I believe a deal of experimenting is going on all over the world in the constructing of seaplanes. It is the most practical end of the flying game.”

“So it appears.”

“Then, we want to keep in the lead. The Swift Construction Company ought to put out a boat that will lead them all, even if we never make a penny out of it.”

“Don’t talk that way!” urged Ned. “Our books have got to show a balance on the right side at the end of the year. Go ahead. Do all the experimenting you want. But in the end, Tom Swift, I shall expect you to evolve something that will pay the company big.”

In secret Tom believed that was exactly what he should do. But he did not like to be too sanguine. After all, a good many of the ideas he had evolved regarding the new invention were so embryonic that he hesitated to go into particulars about them with Ned, or even with his father.

Barton Hopkins had been a dreamer, like his son, in his younger days. But age usually makes a man critical. Tom did not want anybody to tell him a thing could not be done until he had tried it out himself and was satisfied that it was impossible.

During these days after the departure of Mr. Damon and Mary’s father for Denmark Tom lived in a good deal of a mental haze. He allowed nothing, at least, to interfere any more with his consideration of the new invention. Rad Sampson declared that the younger Swift was so absorbed by his work that he did not know what he ate half the time.

“Dat boy sartain sure work hisself sick,” grumbled the old colored man. “Dem things he is playin’ wid take all his mind off’n ’portant things. Suah do!”

To Rad the pleasures of the table were far more important than the building of a flying boat that was to astonish the world.

“Some shingles an’ pigs’ bladders and pieces of string—huh!” grumbled Rad. “Let dis yere Koku play wid ’em. They jest de sort ob things childern and heathens plays wid. I’s ’shamed of Mars’ Tom.”

The model Tom had built upon his bedroom table, however, was all that Rad saw of the flying boat. It was merely a rough suggestion of what the young inventor hoped the Winged Arrow would be when it was done. In one of the locked rooms attached to his office suite at the works he was working out in full detail the mysterious seaplane.

The workmen, even the most trusted ones, had little idea as yet as to what Tom Swift was about. But when a part of the erecting shop was cleared for the keel of the big boat they all grew excited. The Swift Construction Company was about to evolve another wonder!

When Tom himself appeared in the erecting shop in working clothes the men might well be sure that something of importance was under way. There was another sign that never failed. Koku, the giant, was close at hand.

The strange fellow had believed for a long time now that his beloved young “Master” was threatened by malign enemies, both of a physical and spiritual kind. No talking to Koku or explanation of religious matters could convince the giant that there were not actual “devils,” as well as evil influences, at work in the world.

Tom had been in so many perils from certain evil people who were opposed to the Government during the war, and who were the young inventor’s personal enemies as well, that the poor savage expected harm to come to his master at any and all times.

When Tom was working around machinery or engaged in any matter where there were other men about—especially rough looking men—Koku did not intend to be far away from Tom Swift. He watched the young fellow and all those who approached him with a gaze as sharp as that of a lynx.

Sometimes Tom turned around quickly to find the giant almost at his elbow, his savage gaze enough to startle any one. Koku’s eyes had the quality of a cat’s. They narrowed to a wicked slit in the daytime, and were yellow. At night they expanded and were glowing, and it had often been proved that he could see farther and more distinctly in the dark than any American of European descent.

As Tom moved about briskly, appointing each man his task, advising here and ordering there, Koku was sometimes quite put to it to keep within arm’s reach of his master. But, at least, he never lost sight of him, and the giant could move so quickly and lightly that he was seldom in anybody’s way.

Having selected most of his mechanics with much care and after giving heedful attention to their characters as well as to their ability as workmen, Tom had no suspicion at this time that a single man in the works felt any enmity toward him. He laughed with his father and with Ned Newton, therefore, over Koku’s careful watch upon him and those about him.

And yet, there arose a situation, totally unexpected, almost inexplicable, which might have been considered with justice a direct attempt to injure the young inventor. And in the thrilling action of the moment in question it seemed that Tom Swift would neither carry through his attempt to build a wonderful flying boat nor accomplish any other future marvel.

Certain steel trusses were being arranged along the measured length of the floor of the shop devoted to the laying of the keel. The keel had reached Shopton in sections, and nobody outside the works could have guessed what the shining metal parts were as the trucks brought them from the railroad to the shops.

The traveling crane picked up these numbered parts of the keel and in succession delivered them to the gang handling the emplacement on the trusses. The prow was railroaded to the far end of the building and eased into place. The second section was brought forward.

The gang was busy with this while the crane, traveling upon an overhead rail, was supposed to drift down the length of the shop again, drawn by the power of the stationary engine. The crane and its swinging hooks and loops of chain traveled almost silently.

No workman around the keel noted that the crane stopped half way to the door of the shop. It seemed to have fouled, for it stopped abruptly and the overhead rail shivered through its entire length.

Tom had mounted to one of the trusses and with voice and gesture was advising his helpers how he wished the last piece of the keel placed. The clanging of other machinery, the echo of hammers, the roar of escaping steam, well nigh deafened them all.

Of a sudden Koku, the giant, emitted a shriek that might have been envied by a steam locomotive! He leaped directly at Tom. He hurdled two of the trusses as though they were no higher than croquet hoops, and with broad-spread arms and clutching hands, lunged at the young inventor.

“Look out there, Mr. Tom!” cried one of the men, making his voice heard even above Koku’s roar. “That giant’s gone crazy!”

Before the young fellow could turn to see what was threatening him, Koku was upon him and had seized him in his mighty arms.