Tom Swift considered a few minutes. On the face of it, the proposition appealed to him. He had been home some time now after his adventures on Earthquake Island, and he was beginning to long for more excitement. The search for the mysterious mountain, and the cave of the diamond makers, might offer a new field for him. But there came to him a certain distrust of Mr. Jenks.
“I don't like to doubt your word,” began Tom, slowly, “but you know, Mr. Jenks, that some of the greatest chemists have tried in vain to make diamonds; or, at best, they have made only tiny ones. To think that any man, or set of men, made real diamonds as large as the ones you have, doesn't seem—well—” and Tom hesitated.
“You mean you can hardly believe me?” asked Mr. Jenks.
“I guess that's it,” assented Tom.
“I don't blame you a bit!” exclaimed the odd man. “In fact, I didn't believe it when they told me they could make diamonds. But they proved it to me. I'm ready now to prove it to you.”
“I'll tell you what I'll do. Here's this one stone, cut ready for setting. Here's another, uncut,” and Mr. Jenks drew from his pocket what looked like a piece of crystal. “Take them to any jeweler,” he resumed—“to the one in whose place I saw you to-night. I'll abide by the verdict you get, and I'll come here to-morrow night, and hear what you have to say.”
“Why do you come at night?” asked Tom, thinking there was something suspicious in that.
“Because my life might be in danger if I was seen talking to you, and showing you diamonds in the daytime—especially just now.
“Why at this particular time?”
“For the reason that the diamond makers are on my trail. As long as I remained quiet, after their shabby treatment of me, and did not try to discover their secret, they were all right. But, after I realized that I had been cheated out of my rights, and when I began to make an investigation, with a view to discovering their secret whereabouts, I received mysterious and anonymous warnings to stop.”
“But I did not. I came East, and tried to get help to discover the cave of the diamond makers, but I was unsuccessful. I needed an airship, as I said, and no person who could operate one, would agree to go with me on the quest. Again I received a warning to drop all search for the diamond makers, but I persisted, and about a week ago I found I was being shadowed.”
“Shadowed; by whom?” asked Tom.
“By a man I never remember seeing, but who, I have no doubt, is one of the diamond-making gang.”
“Do you think he means you harm?”
“I'm sure of it. That is the reason I have to act so in secret, and come to see you at night. I don't want those scoundrels to find out what I am about to do. On my return from Earthquake Island, I again endeavored to interest an airship man in my plan, but he evidently thought me insane. Then I thought of you, as I had done before, but I was afraid you, too, would laugh at my proposition. However, I decided to come here, and I did. It seemed almost providential that my first view of you was in a jewelry shop, looking at diamonds. I took it as a good omen. Now it remains with you. May I call here to-morrow night, and get your answer?”
Tom Swift made up his mind quickly. After all it would be easy enough to find out if the diamonds were real. If they were, he could then decide whether or not to go with Mr. Jenks on the mysterious quest. So he answered:
“I'll consider the matter, Mr. Jenks. I'll meet you here to-morrow night. In the meanwhile, for my own satisfaction, I'll let an expert look at these stones.”
“Get the greatest diamond expert in the world, and he'll pronounce them perfect!” predicted the odd man. “Now I'll bid you goodnight, and be going. I'll be here at this time to-morrow.”
As Mr. Jenks turned aside there was a movement among the trees in the orchard, and a shadowy figure was seen hurrying away.
“Who's that?” asked the diamond man, in a hoarse whisper. “Did you see that, Tom Swift? Some one was here—listening to what I said! Perhaps it was the man who has been shadowing me!”
“I think not. I guess it was Eradicate Sampson, a colored man who does work for us,” said Tom. “Is that you, Rad?” he called.
“Yais, sah, Massa Tom, heah I is!” answered the voice of the negro, but it came from an entirely different direction than that in which the shadowy figure had been seen.
“Where are you, Rad?” called the young inventor.
“Right heah,” was the reply, and the colored man came from the direction of the stable. “I were jest out seein' if mah mule Boomerang were all right. Sometimes he's restless, an' don't sleep laik he oughter.”
“Then that wasn't you over in the orchard?” asked Tom, in some uneasiness.
“No, sah, I ain't been in de orchard. I were sleepin' in mah shack, till jest a few minutes ago, when I got up, an' went in t' see Boomerang. I had a dream dat some coon were tryin t' steal him, an' it sort ob 'sturbed me, laik.”
“If it wasn't your man, it was some one else,” said Mr. Jenks, decidedly.
“We'll have a look!” exclaimed Tom. “Here, Rad, come over and scurry among those trees. We just saw some one sneaking around.”
“I'll sure do dat!” cried the colored man. “Mebby it were somebody arter Boomerang! I'll find 'em.”
“I don't believe it was any one after the mule,” murmured Mr. Jenks, “but it certainly was some one—more likely some one after me.”
The three made a hasty search among the trees, but the intruder had vanished, leaving no trace. They went out into the road, which the moon threw into bold relief along its white stretch, but there was no figure scurrying away.
“Whoever it was, is gone,” spoke Tom. “You can go back to bed, Rad,” for the colored man, of late, had been sleeping in a shack on the Swift premises.
“And I guess it's time for me to go, too,” added Mr. Jenks. “I'll be here to-morrow night, Tom, and I hope your answer will be favorable.”
Tom did not sleep well the remainder of the night, for his fitful slumbers were disturbed by dreams of enormous caves, filled with diamonds, with dark, shadowy figures trying to put him into a red-hot steel box. Once he awakened with a start, and put his hand under his pillow to feel if the two stones Mr. Jenks had given him, were still there. They had not been disturbed.
Tom made up his mind to find out if the stones were really diamonds, before saying anything to his father about the chance of going to seek Phantom Mountain. And the young inventor wished to get the opinion of some other jeweler than Mr. Track—at least, at first.
“Though if this one proves to be a good gem, I'll have Mr. Track set it in a brooch, and give it to Mary for her birthday,” decided the young inventor. “Guess I'll take a run over to Chester in the Butterfly, and see what one of the jewelers there has to say.”
In addition to his big airship, Red Cloud, Tom owned a small, swift monoplane, which he called Butterfly. This had been damaged by Andy Foger just before Tom left on the trip that ended at Earthquake Island, but the monoplane had been repaired, and Andy had left town, not having returned since.
Telling his father that he was going off on a little business trip, which he often did in his aeroplane, Tom, with the aid of Mr. Jackson, the engineer, wheeled the Butterfly out of its shed.
Adjusting the mechanism, and seeing that it was in good shape, Tom took his place in one of the two seats, for the monoplane would carry two. Mr. Jackson then spun the propellers, and, with a crackle and roar the motor started. Over the ground ran the dainty, little aeroplane, until, having momentum enough, Tom tilted the wing planes and the machine sailed up into the air.
Rising about a thousand feet, and circling about several times to test the wind currents, Tom headed his craft toward Chester, a city about fifty miles from Shopton. In his pocket, snugly tucked away, were the two stones Mr. Jenks had given him.
It was not long before Tom saw, looming up in the distance the church spires and towering factory chimneys of Chester, for his machine was a speedy one, and could make ninety miles an hour when driven. But now a slower speed satisfied our hero.
“I'll just drop down outside of the city,” he reasoned, “for too much of a crowd gathers when I land in the street. Besides I might frighten horses, and then, too, it's hard to get a good start from the street. I'll leave it in some barn until I want to go back.”
Tom sent his craft down, in order to pick out a safe place for a landing. He was then over the suburbs of the city, and was following the line of a straight country road.
“Looks like a good place there,” he murmured. “I'll shut off the motor, and vol-plane down.”
Suiting the action to the word, Tom shut off his power. The little craft dipped toward the ground, but the lad threw up the forward planes, and caught a current of air that sent him skimming along horizontally.
As he got nearer to the ground, he saw the figure of a lad riding a bicycle along the country highway. Something about the figure struck Tom as being familiar, and he recognized the cyclist a moment later.
“It's Andy Foger!” said Tom, in a whisper. “I wondered where he had been keeping himself since he damaged the Butterfly. Evidently he doesn't dare venture back to Shopton. Well, here's where I give him a scare.”
Tom's monoplane was making no more noise, now, than a soaring bird. He was gliding swiftly toward the earth, and, with the plan in his mind of administering some sort of punishment to the bully, he aimed the machine directly at him.
Nearer and nearer shot the monoplane, as quietly as a sheet of paper might fall. Andy pedaled on, never looking up nor behind him, A moment later, as Tom threw up his headplanes, to make his landing more easy, and just as he swooped down at one side of the cyclist, our hero let out a most alarming yell, right into Andy's ear.
“Now I've got you!” he shouted. “I'll teach you to slash my aeroplane! Come with me!”
Andy gave one look at the white bird-like apparatus that had flown up beside him so noiselessly, and, being too frightened to recognize Tom's voice, must have thought that he had been overtaken by some supernatural visitor.
Andy gave a yell like an Indian, about to do a stage scalping act, and fairly dived over the handlebars of his bicycle, sprawling in a heap on the dusty road.
“I guess that will hold you for a while,” observed Tom, grimly, as he put on the ground-brake and brought his monoplane to a stop not far from the fallen rider.
For several minutes Andy Foger did not arise. He remained prostrate in the dust, and Tom, observing him, thought perhaps the bully might have been seriously injured. But, a little later, Andy cautiously raised his head, and inquired in a frightened voice:
“Is it—is it gone?”
“Is what gone?” asked Tom, grimly.
At the sound of his voice, Andy looked up. “Was that you, Tom Swift?” he demanded. “Did you knock me off my wheel?”
“My monoplane and I together did,” was the reply; “or, rather, we didn't. It was the nervous reaction caused by your fright, and the knowledge that you had done wrong, that made you jump over the handlebars. That's the scientific explanation.”
“You—you did it!” stammered Andy, getting to his feet. He wasn't hurt much, Tom thought.
“Have it your own way,” resumed our hero. “Did you think it was a hob-goblin in a chariot of fire after you, Andy?”
“Huh! Never mind what I thought! I'll have you arrested for this!”
“Will you? Delighted, as the boys say. Hop in my airship and I'll take you right into town. And when I get you there I'll make a charge of malicious mischief against you, for breaking the propeller of the Butterfly and slashing her wings. I've mended her up, however, so she goes better than ever, and I can take you to the police station in jig time. Want to come, Andy?”
This was too much for the bully. He knew that Tom would have a clear case against him, and he did not dare answer. Instead he shuffled over to where his wheel lay, picked it up, and rode slowly off.
“Good riddance,” murmured Tom. He looked about, and saw that he was near a house, in the rear of which was a good-sized barn. “Guess I'll ask if I can leave the Butterfly there,” he murmured, and, ringing the doorbell, he was greeted by a man.
“I'll pay you if you'll let me store my machine in the barn a little while, until I go into the city, and return,” spoke the lad.
“Indeed, you're welcome to leave it there without pay,” was the answer. “I'm interested in airships, and, I'll consider it a favor if you'll let me look yours over while it's here.”
Tom readily agreed, and a few minutes later he had caught a trolley going into the city. He was soon in one of the largest jewelry stores of Chester.
“I'd like to get an expert opinion as to whether or not those stones are diamonds,” spoke Tom, to the polite clerk who came up to wait on him, and our hero handed over the two gems which Mr. Jenks had given him. “I'm willing to pay for the appraisement, of course,” the young inventor added, as he saw the clerk looking rather doubtfully at him, for Tom had on a rough suit, which he always donned when he flew in his monoplane.
“I'll turn them over to our Mr. Porter, a gem expert,” said the clerk. “Please be seated.”
The young man disappeared into a private office with the stones, and Tom waited. He wondered if he was going to have his trouble for his pains. Presently two elderly gentlemen came from the little room, on the glass door of which appeared the word “Diamonds.”
“Who brought these stones in?” asked one of the men, evidently the proprietor, from the deference paid him by the clerk. The latter motioned to Tom.
“Will you kindly step inside here?” requested the elderly man. When the door was closed, Tom found himself in a room which was mostly taken up with a bench for the display of precious stones, a few chairs, and some lights arranged peculiarly; while various scales and instruments stood on a table.
“You wished an opinion on—on these?” queried the proprietor of the place. Tom noticed at once that the word “diamonds” was not used.
“I wanted to find out if they were of any value,” he said. “Are they diamonds?”
“Would you mind stating where you got them?” asked the other of the two men.
“Is that necessary?” inquired the lad. “I came by them in a legitimate manner, if that's what you mean, and I can satisfy you on that point. I am willing to pay for any information you may give me as to their value.”
“Oh, it isn't that,” the proprietor hastened to assure him. “But these are diamonds of such a peculiar kind, so perfect and without a flaw, that I wondered from what part of the world they came.”
“Then they are diamonds?” asked Tom, eagerly.
“The finest I have ever tested!” declared the other man, evidently Mr. Porter, the gem expert. “They are a joy to look at, Mr. Roberts,” he went on, turning to the proprietor. “If it is possible to get a supply of them you would be justified in asking half as much again as we charge for African or Indian diamonds. The Kimberly products are not to be compared to these,” and he looked at the two stones in his hand—the one cut, and sparkling brilliantly, the other in a rough state.
“Do you care to state where these diamonds came from?” asked Mr. Roberts, looking critically at Tom.
“I had rather not,” answered the lad. “It is enough for me to know that they are diamonds. How much is your charge?”
“Nothing,” was the unexpected answer. “We are very glad to have had the opportunity of seeing such stones. Is there any chance of getting any more?”
“Perhaps,” answered Tom, as he accepted the gems which the expert held out to him.
“Then might we speak for a supply?” went on Mr. Roberts, eagerly. “We will pay you the full market price.”
“What is the value of these stones?” asked Tom.
Mr. Roberts looked at his gem expert.
“It is difficult to say,” was the answer of the man who had handed Tom the gems. “They are so far superior to the usual run of diamonds, that I feel justified in saying that the cut one would bring fifteen hundred dollars, anywhere. In fact, I would offer that for it. The other is larger, though what it would lose in cutting would be hard to say. I should say it was worth two thousand dollars as it is now.”
“Thirty-five hundred dollars for these two stones!” exclaimed Tom.
“They are worth every cent of it,” declared Mr. Roberts. “Do you want to sell?”
Tom shook his head. He could scarcely believe the good news. Mr. Jenks had told the truth. Now the young inventor could go with him to seek the diamond makers.
“Can you get any more of these?” went on Mr. Roberts.
“I think so—that is I don't know—I am going to try,” answered the lad.
“Then if you succeed I wish you would sell us some,” fairly begged the proprietor of the store.
“I will,” promised Tom, but he little knew what lay before him, or perhaps he would not have made that promise. He thanked the diamond merchant for his kindness, and arranged to have the cut stone set in a pin for Miss Nestor. The uncut gem Tom took away with him.
Thinking of many things, and wondering how best to start in his airship Red Cloud for the mysterious Phantom Mountain, Tom hurried back to where he had left the monoplane, wheeled it out, and was soon soaring through the air toward Shopton.
“I think I'll go with Mr. Jenks,” he decided, as he prepared for a landing in the open space near his aeroplane shed. “It will be a risky trip, perhaps, but I've taken risks before. When Mr. Jenks comes to-night I'll tell him I'll help him to get his rights, and discover the secret of the diamond makers.”
As Tom was wheeling the Butterfly into the shed, Eradicate came out to help him.
“Dere's a gen'man here to see yo', Massa Tom,” said the colored man.
“Who is it?”
“I dunno. He keep askin' ef yo' de lad what done bust up Earthquake Island, an' send lightnin' flashes up to de sky, an' all sech questions laik dat.”
“It isn't Mr. Damon; is it, Rad? He hasn't been around in some time.”
“No, Massa Tom, it ain't him. I knows dat blessin' man good an' proper. I jest wish he'd bless mah mule Boomerang some day, an' take some oh de temper out ob him. No, sah, it ain't Massa Damon. De gen'man's in de airship shed waitin' fo' you.”
“In the airship shed! No strangers are allowed in there, Rad.”
“I knows it, Massa Tom, but he done persisted his se'f inter it, an' he wouldn't come out when I told him; an' your pa an' Mr. Jackson ain't home.”
“I'll see about this,” exclaimed Tom, striding to the large shed, where the Red Cloud was kept. As he entered it he saw a man looking over the wonderful craft.
“Did you want to see me?” asked Tom, sharply, for he did not like strangers prowling around.
“I did, and I apologize for entering here, but I am interested in airships, and I thought you might want to hire a pilot. I am in need of employment, and I have had considerable to do with balloons and aeroplanes, but never with an airship like this, which combines the two features. Do you wish to hire any one.”
“No, I don't!” replied Tom, sharply, for he did not like the looks of the man.
“I was told that you did,” was the rather surprising answer.
“Who told you?”
The man looked all around the shed, before replying, as if fearful of being overheard. Then, stepping close to Tom, he whispered:
“Mr. Jenks told me!”
“Mr. Jenks?” Tom could not conceal his astonishment.
“Yes. Mr. Barcoe Jenks. But I did not come here to merely ask you for employment. I would like to hire out to you, but the real object of my visit was to say this to you.”
The man approached still closer to Tom, and, in a lower voice, and one that could scarcely be heard, he fairly hissed:
“Don't go with Barcoe Jenks to seek the diamond makers!”
Then, before Tom could put out a hand to detain him, had the lad so wished, the man turned suddenly, and fairly ran from the shed.
The young inventor stood almost spellbound for a few moments. Then recovering himself he made a dash for the door through which the mysterious man had disappeared. Tom saw him sprinting down the road, and was half-minded to take after him, but a cooler thought warned him that he had better not.
“He may be one of those men who are on Mr. Jenks' trail,” reasoned Tom, in which case it might not be altogether safe to attempt to stop him, and make him explain. Or he may be a lunatic, and in that case it wouldn't be altogether healthy to interfere with him.
“I'll just let him go, and tell Mr. Jenks about him when he comes to-night. But I must warn Rad never to let him in here again. He might damage the airship.”
Calling to the colored man, Tom pointed to the stranger, who was almost out of sight down the road, and said earnestly:
“Rad, do you see that fellow?”
“I sho do, Massa Tom, but I sorter has t' strain my eyes t' do it. He's goin' laik my mule Boomerang does when he's comm' home t' dinnah.”
“That's right, Rad. Well, never let that man set foot inside our fence again! If he comes, and I'm home, call me. If I'm away, call dad or Mr. Jackson, and if you're here alone, drive him away, somehow.”
“I will, Massa Tom!” exclaimed the colored man, earnestly, “an' if I can't do it alone, I'll get Boomerang t' help. Once let dat ar' mule git his heels on a pusson, an' dat pusson ain't goin' t' come bodderin' around any mo'—that is, not right away.”
“I believe you, Rad. Well, keep a lookout for him, and don't let him in,” and with that Tom entered the house to think over matters. They were beginning to assume an aspect he did not altogether like. Not that Tom was afraid of danger, but he preferred to meet it in the open, and the warning, or threat, of the mysterious man disquieted him.
When Mr. Swift came home, a little later, his son told him of the midnight interview with Mr. Jenks, for, up to this time, the aged inventor was unaware of it, and Tom also gave an account of the diamonds, speaking of their value.
“And do you propose to go to Phantom Mountain, in search of the makers of these gems, Tom?” asked Mr. Swift.
“I had about decided to do so, dad.”
“And you're going in the Red Cloud?'
“Yes.”
“Who are going with you?”
“Well, Mr. Jenks will go, of course, and I've no doubt but that if I mention the prospective trip to Mr. Damon, that he'll bless his skating cap, or something like that, and come along.”
“I suppose so, Tom, and I'd like to have you take him. But I think you'll need some one else.”
“Because, from what you have told me, you are going out to a dangerous part of the country, and you may have to deal with unscrupulous men. Three of you are hardly enough to cope with them. You ought to have at least another member of your party. If I was not busy on my invention of a new wireless motor I would go along, but I can't leave. You might take Mr. Jackson.”
“No, you need him here to help you, dad.”
“How about Eradicate?”
Tom smiled.
“Rad would get homesick for his mule Boomerang, and I'd have to bring him back just when we'd found the diamonds,” replied the young inventor. “No, we'll have to think of some one else. I'll ask Mr. Damon, and then I'll consider matters further. I expect to see Mr. Jenks to-night, and he may have some one in mind.”
“Perhaps that will be a good plan. Well, Tom, I trust you will take good care of yourself, and not run into unnecessary danger. Is the Red Cloud in good shape for the voyage?”
“It needs looking over. I'm going to get right at it.”
“It's a pretty indefinite sort of a quest you're going on, Tom, my son. How do you expect to find Phantom Mountain?”
“Well, it's going to be quite a task. In the first place we'll head for Leadville, Colorado, and then we'll go to Indian Ridge and make some inquiries. We may get on the track of the place that way. If we don't, why I'll take the airship up as high as is necessary and sort of prospect until we see that big cliff that's shaped like a head. That will give us something to go by.”
“Well, do the best you can. If you can discover the secret of making diamonds it will be a valuable one.”
“I guess it will, dad; and Mr. Jenks is entitled to know it, for he paid his good money to that end. He has promised to go halves with me, as payment for the use of the airship, and I must say the two diamonds he gave me last night have proved very valuable.”
“Two diamonds, Tom? You only showed me one, an uncut gem;” and Mr. Swift looked at his son.
“Oh, the other—er—the other is—I left it with a jeweler,” and Tom blushed a trifle, as he thought of the present he contemplated making to Mary Nestor.
That afternoon, as Tom was out in the shed of the Red Cloud looking over the airship, to see what would be necessary to do to it in order to get it in shape for a long trip, he heard voices outside.
“Yes—yes, I know the way in perfectly well,” he caught. “You needn't bother to come, my good fellow. Just step this way, and I'll show you something worth seeing.”
“I wonder if it's that mysterious man coming back?” thought Tom. He dropped the tool he was using, and hurried to the door. As he approached it he heard the voice continue.
“Why bless my shoe laces, Mr. Parker! You'll see a wonderful airship, I promise you. Wonderful! Bless my hatband, but I hope Tom is here!”
“Mr. Damon!” exclaimed our hero, as he recognized the tones of his eccentric friend. “But who is with him?”
A moment later he caught sight of the gentleman who was always blessing himself, or something. Behind him stood another man, whose features Tom could not see plainly.
“Hello, Tom Swift!” called Mr. Damon. “Looking over the Red Cloud, eh? Does that mean you're off on another trip?”
“I guess it does,” answered the lad.
“Where to this time? if I may ask.”
“I'm thinking of going off to the mountains to find a band of men engaged in making diamonds,” replied Tom.
“Making diamonds! Bless my finger ring! Making diamonds! A trip to the mountains! Bless my disposition! but do you know I'd like to go with you!”
“I was thinking of asking you, Mr. Damon.”
“Were you? Bless my heart, I'm glad you thought of me. You don't by any possible chance want another person; do you?”
“We were thinking of having four in the party, Mr. Damon,” and Tom wondered who was with his eccentric friend.
“Then bless my election ticket! This is the very chance for you, Mr. Parker!” cried Mr. Damon. “Will you go with us? It will be just what you need,” and Mr. Damon stepped aside, revealing to Tom the features of Mr. Ralph Parker, the scientist who had correctly predicted the destruction of Earthquake Island.
Tom Swift was a most generous lad, but when he saw that Mr. Damon had with him Mr. Parker, the gloomy scientist, who seemed to take delight in predicting disasters, our hero's spirits were not exactly of the best. He would have much preferred not to take Mr. Parker on the quest for the diamond makers, but, since Mr. Damon had mentioned it, he did not see how he could very well refuse.
“But perhaps he won't care to go,” thought Tom.
He was undeceived a moment later, however, for the scientist remarked:
I am very glad to meet you once more, Mr. Swift. I have scarcely thanked you enough for what you did for us in erecting your wireless station on Earthquake Island, which, as you recall, I predicted would sink into the sea. It did, I am glad to say, not because I like to see islands destroyed, but because science has been vindicated. Now I have just heard you remark that you are about to set off to the mountains in search of some men who are making diamonds. I need hardly state that this is utterly useless, for no diamonds, commercially valuable, can be made by men. But the trip may be valuable in that it will permit me to demonstrate some scientific facts.
“Therefore, if you will permit me, I will be very glad to accompany you and Mr. Damon. I shall be delighted, in short, and I can start as soon as you are ready.”
“There's no hope for it!” thought Tom, dismally. “I suppose he'll wake up every morning, and predict that before night the world will come to an end, or he'll prophesy that the airship will blow up, and vanish, when about seven miles above the clouds. Well, there's no way out of it, so here goes.”
Thereupon Tom welcomed the scientist as cordially as he could, and invited him to form one of the party that would set off in the airship to search for Phantom Mountain.
“Bless my jewelry box!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, when this formality was over. “Tell me more about it, Tom.”
Which our hero did, stating the need of maintaining secrecy on account of the danger to Mr. Jenks. Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker both agreed to say nothing about the matter, and then the scientist became much interested in the Red Cloud, which he closely examined. He even complimented Tom on the skill shown in making it, and, contrary to our hero's expectation, did not predict that it would blow up the next time it was used.
“How did you happen to arrive just at this time, Mr. Damon?” asked Tom.
“It was partly due to Mr. Parker,” was the answer. “I had not seen him since we were rescued from the island, until a few days ago he called on me at my home. I happened to mention that you lived near here, and suggested that he might like to see some of your inventions. He agreed, and we came over in my auto. And now, bless my liver-pin! I find you about to start off on another trip.”
“And have you fully decided to go with me?” asked Tom. “There may be danger, and I don't like the way that mysterious man behaved.”
“Oh, bless my revolver!” cried Mr. Damon. “I'm used to danger by this time. Of course I'm going, and so is Mr. Parker. Do you know,” and the man, who was always blessing something, came closer to the lad, and whispered: “Do you know, Tom, Mr. Parker is a very peculiar individual.”
“I'm sure of it,” answered the young inventor, looking at the gentleman in question, who was then inside the airship cabin.
“But he's all right, even if he is predicting unpleasant things,” went on Mr. Damon. “I think we'll get better acquainted with him after a bit.”
“I hope so,” agreed Tom, but he did not realize then how close his companionship with Mr. Parker was to be, nor what dangers they were to share later.
The friends talked at considerable length of the prospective trip, and Tom, by this time, had ascertained what needed to be done to the airship to get it in shape to travel. It would take about a week, and, in the meanwhile, Mr. Damon would go home and get his affairs in order for the voyage. Tom's father was introduced to Mr. Parker, and, the former, finding that the scientist held some views in common with him, invited the gloomy predictor to remain at the Swift home until the Red Cloud was ready to sail. Tom could not repress a groan at this, but he decided he would have to make the best of it.
Mr. Damon left for home that afternoon, promising to be on hand at the time set to start for Phantom Mountain.
Tom was up waiting for Mr. Jenks at twelve o'clock that night. Shortly after the hour he saw a dark figure steal into the orchard. At first he feared lest it might be one of the spies who were, he was now convinced, on the trail of the man who was seeking to discover the secret of the diamond makers. But a whistle, which came to the lad's ear a moment later (that being a signal Mr. Jenks had agreed to sound), told Tom that it was none other than the visitor he expected.
“All right, Mr. Jenks, I'm here,” called Tom, cautiously. “Come over this way,” and he went out from the shadow of the house, where he had been waiting, and met the men. “We'll go into my private work-shop,” the youth added, leading the way.
“Have you decided to go with me?” asked Mr. Jenks, in an anxious whisper. “Did you find the diamonds to be real ones?”
“I did; and I'm going,” spoke Tom.
“Good! That relieves my mind. But we are still in danger. I was followed by my shadower to-day, and only succeeded in shaking him off just before coming here. I don't believe he knows what I am about to do.”
“Oh, yes he does,” said Tom.
“He does? How?”
“Because he was here, and warned me against you!”
“You don't mean it! Well, they are getting desperate! We must be on our guard. What sort of a man was he?”
Tom described the fellow, and Mr. Jenks stated that this tallied with the appearance of the person who had been shadowing him.
“But we'll fool them yet!” cried Tom, who had now fully entered into the spirit of the affair. “If they can follow us in the Red Cloud they're welcome to. I think we'll get ahead of them.”
He then told of Mr. Damon and Mr. Parker, and Mr. Jenks agreed that it would add to the strength of the party to take these two gentlemen along.
“Though I can't say I care so much for Mr. Parker,” he added. “But now as to ways and means. When can we start?”
Thereupon he and Tom talked over details in the seclusion of the little office, and arranged to leave Shopton in about a week. In the meanwhile the airship would be overhauled, stocked with supplies and provisions, and be made ready for a swift dash to the mountains.
“And now I must be going,” said Mr. Jenks. “I have a great deal to do before I can start on this trip, and I hope I am not prevented by any of those men who seem to be trailing me.”
“How could they prevent you?” Tom wanted to know.
“Oh, there are any number of ways,” was the answer. “But I'm glad you found that my diamonds were real. We'll soon have plenty, if all goes well.”
As Mr. Jenks left the shop, he started back, in some alarm.
“What's the matter?” asked Tom.
“Over there—I thought I saw a figure sneaking along under the trees—that man—perhaps—”
“That's Eradicate, our colored helper,” replied Tom, with a laugh. “I posted him there to see that no strangers came into the orchard. Everything all right, Rad?” he asked, raising his voice.
“Yais, sah, Massa Tom. Nobody been around yeah this night.”
“That's good. You can go to bed now,” and Eradicate, yawning loudly, went to his shack. A little later Tom sought his own room, Mr. Jenks having hurried off to town, where he was boarding.
The next few days saw Tom busily engaged on the airship, making some changes and a few repairs that were needed. His father, Eradicate and Mr. Jackson helped him. As for Mr. Parker, the scientist, he went about the place, being much interested in the various machines which Tom or Mr. Swift had patented.
At other times the scientist would stroll about the extensive grounds, making what he said were “observations.” One afternoon Tom saw him, apparently much excited, kneeling down back of a shed, with his ear to the ground.
“What is the matter?” asked the lad, thinking perhaps Mr. Parker might be ill.
“Have you ever had any earthquakes here, Tom Swift?” asked the scientist, quietly.
“Earthquakes? No. We had enough of them on the island.”
“And you are going to have one here, in about two minutes!” cried Mr. Parker. “I predict that this place will be shaken by a tremendous shock very soon. We had all better get away from the vicinity of buildings.”
“What makes you think there will be an earthquake?” asked Tom.
“Because I can hear the rumbling beneath the ground at this very minute. It is increasing in volume, showing that the tremors are working this way. There will soon be a great subterranean upheaval! Listen for yourself.”
Tom cast himself down on the grass. Placing his ear close to the ground he did hear a series of dull thuds. He arose, not a little alarmed. There had never been any earthquakes in Shopton, yet he had great respect for Mr. Parker's scientific attainments.
Just then Eradicate Sampson came along. He saw Tom and Mr. Parker lying flat on the ground, and surprise showed on his honest, black face.
“Fo' de land sakes!” cried Eradicate. “What am de mattah now, Massa Tom?”
“Earthquake coming,” answered Tom, briefly. “Better get away from the buildings, Rad. They might fall!” Tom's face showed the alarm he felt. What would happen to all of his valuable machines—to the Red Cloud?
“Earthquake?” murmured Eradicate, and he, too, cast himself down to listen. A moment later he arose with a laugh.
“What's the matter?” cried Tom.
“Why, dat ain't no earthquake!” declared the colored man.
“No. Then perhaps you know what it is,” said Mr. Parker, somewhat sharply.
“Course I knows what it am,” answered Eradicate, with dignity. “Dat noise am my mule Boomerang, kickin' in his stable, on account oh me not feedin' him yet. Dat's what it am. I'se gwine right now t' gib him his oats, and den yo' see dat de noise stop. Boomerang allers kick dat way when he's hungry. I show yo'!”
And, sure enough, when Eradicate had gone to the mule's stable, which was near where Mr. Parker had heard the mysterious sounds, they immediately ceased.
“Dat mule was all de earthquake dere was around here,” said the colored man as he came out.
Mr. Parker walked away, saying nothing, and Tom did not make any comments—just then.