For a few moments after the custom officer had made his appeal, Tom Swift did not reply. His thoughts were busy with many things. Somehow, it seemed of late, there had been many demands on him, demands that had been hard and trying.

In the past he had not hesitated, but in those cases friendship, as well as a desire for adventures, had urged him. Now he thought he had had his fill of adventures.

"Well?" asked Mr. Whitford, gently. "What's your answer, Tom? Don't you think this is a sort of duty-call to you?"

"A duty-call?" repeated the young inventor.

"Yes. Of course I realize that it isn't like a soldier's call to battle, but Uncle Sam needs you just the same. When there is a war the soldiers are called on to repel an enemy. Now the smugglers are just as much an enemy of the United States, in a certain way, as an armed invader would be."

"One strikes at the life and liberty of the people, while the smugglers try to cheat Uncle Sam out of money that is due him. I'm not going to enter into a discussion as to the right of the government to impose duties. People have their own opinion as to that. But, as long as the law says certain duties are to be collected, it is the duty of every citizen, not only to pay those dues, but to help collect them. That's what I'm asking you to do, Tom."

"I don't want to get prosy, or deliver a lecture on the work of the custom house, Tom, but, honestly, I think it is a duty you owe to your country to help catch these smugglers. I admit I'm at the end of my rope. This last clew has failed. The Fogers seem to be innocent of wrong doing. We need your help, Tom."

"But I don't see how I can help you."

"Of course you can! You're an expert with airships. The smugglers are using airships, of that I'm sure. You tell me you have just perfected a noiseless aircraft. That will be just the thing. You can hover on the border, near the line dividing New York State from Canada, or near the St. Lawrence, which is the natural division for a certain distance, and when you see an airship coming along you can slip up in your noiseless one, overhaul it, and make them submit to a search."

"But I won't have any authority to do that," objected Tom, who really did not care for the commission.

"Oh, I'll see that you get the proper authority all right," said Mr. Whitford significantly. "I made you a temporary deputy to-night, but if you'll undertake this work, to catch the smugglers in their airships, you will be made a regular custom official."

"Yes, but supposing I can't catch them?" interposed our hero. "They may have very fast airships, and--"

"I guess you'll catch 'em all right!" put in Ned, who was at his chum's side as they walked along a quiet Shopton street in the darkness. "There's not an aeroplane going that can beat yours, Tom."

"Well, perhaps I could get them," admitted the young inventor. "But--"

"Then you'll undertake this work for Uncle Sam?" interrupted Mr. Whitford eagerly. "Come, Tom, I know you will."

"I'm not so sure of that," spoke Tom. "It isn't going to be as easy as you think. There are many difficulties in the way. In the first place the smuggling may be done over such a wide area that it would need a whole fleet of airships to capture even one of the others, for they might choose a most unfrequented place to cross the border."

"Oh, we would be in communication with you," said the agent. "We can come pretty near telling where the contraband goods will be shipped from, but the trouble is, after we get our tips, we can't get to the place before they have flown away. But with your airship, you could catch them, after we sent you, say a wireless message, about where to look for them. So that's no objection. You have a wireless outfit on your airships, haven't you, Tom?"

"Yes, that part is all right."

"Then you can't have any more objections, Tom."

"Well, there are some. For instance you say most of this smuggling is done at night."

"Practically all of it, yes."

"Well, it isn't going to be easy to pick out a contraband airship in the dark, and chase it. But I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. Whitford, I feel as if I had sort of 'fallen down' on this clew business, as the newspaper men say, and I owe it to you to make good in some way."

"That's what I want--not that I think you haven't done all you could," interposed the agent.

"Well, if I can figure out some way, by which I think I can come anywhere near catching these smugglers, I'll undertake the work!" exclaimed Tom. "I'll do it as a duty to Uncle Sam, and I don't want any reward except my expenses. It's going to cost considerable, but--"

"Don't mind the expense!" interrupted Mr. Whitford. "Uncle Sam will stand that. Why, the government is losing thousands of dollars every week. It's a big leak, and must be stopped, and you're the one to stop it, Tom."

"Well, I'll try. I'll see you in a couple of days, and let you know if I have formed any plan. Now come on, Ned. I'm tired and want to get to bed."

"So do I," added the agent. "I'll call on you day after to-morrow, Tom, and I expect you to get right on the job," he added with a laugh.

"Have you any idea what you are going to do, Tom?" asked his chum, as they turned toward their houses.

"Not exactly. If I go I'll use my noiseless airship. That will come in handy. But this night business rather stumps me. I don't quite see my way to get around that. Of course I could use an ordinary searchlight, but that doesn't give a bright enough beam, or carry far enough. It's going to be quite a problem and I've got to think it over."

"Queer about the Fogers; wasn't it, Tom?"

"Yes, I didn't think they were going to let us in."

"There's something going on there, in spite of the fact that they were willing for an inspection to be made," went on Ned.

"I agree with you. I thought it was funny the way Mr. Foger acted about not wanting the men to go down in the cellar."

"So did I, and yet when they got down there they didn't find anything."

"That's so. Well, maybe we're on the wrong track, after all. But I'm going to keep my eyes open. I don't see what Andy wants with an airship platform on the roof of his house. The ground is good enough to start from and land on."

"I should think so, too. But then Andy always did like to show off, and do things different from anybody else. Maybe it's that way now."

"Perhaps," agreed Tom. "Well, here's your house, Ned. Come over in the morning," and, with a good-night, our hero left his chum, proceeding on toward his own home.

"Why, Koku, haven't you gone to bed yet?" asked the young inventor, as, mounting the side steps, he saw his giant servant sitting there on a bench he had made especially for his own use, as ordinary chairs were not substantial enough. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing happen yet," spoke Koku significantly, "but maybe he come pretty soon, and then I get him."

"Get who, Koku?" asked Tom, with quick suspicion.

"I do not know, but Eradicate say he hear someone sneaking around his chicken coop, and I think maybe it be same man who was here once before."

"Oh, you mean the rivals, who were trying to get my moving picture camera?"

"That's what!" exclaimed Koku.

"Hum!" mused Tom. "I must be on the look-out. I'll tell you what I'll do, Koku. I'll set my automatic camera to take the moving pictures of any one who tries to get in my shop, or in the chicken coop. I'll also set the burglar alarm. But you may also stay on the watch, and if anything happens--"

"If anything happens, I will un-happen him!" exclaimed the giant, brandishing a big club he had beside him.

"All right," laughed Tom. "I'm sleepy, and I'm going to bed, but I'll set the automatic camera, and fix it with fuse flashlights, so they will go off if the locks are even touched."

This Tom did, fixing up the wizard camera, which I have told you about in the book bearing that title. It would take moving pictures automatically, once Tom had set the mechanism to unreel the films back of the shutter and lens. The lights would instantly flash, when the electrical connections on the door locks were tampered with, and the pictures would be taken.

Then Tom set the burglar alarm, and, before going to bed he focused a searchlight, from one of his airships, on the shed and chicken coop, fastening it outside his room window.

"There!" he exclaimed, as he got ready to turn in, not having awakened the rest of the household, "when the burglar alarm goes off, if it does, it will also start the searchlight, and I'll get a view of who the chicken thief is. I'll also get some pictures."

Then, thinking over the events of the evening, and wondering if he would succeed in his fight with the smugglers, providing he undertook it, Tom fell asleep.

It must have been some time after midnight that he was awakened by the violent ringing of a bell at his ear. At first he thought it was the call to breakfast, and he leaped from bed crying out:

"Yes, Mrs. Baggert, I'm coming!"

A moment later he realized what it was.

"The burglar alarm!" he cried. "Koku, are you there? Someone is trying to get into the chicken coop!" for a glance at the automatic indicator, in connection with the alarm, had shown Tom that the henhouse, and not his shop, had been the object of attack.

"I here!" cried Koku, "I got him!"

A series of startled cries bore eloquent testimony to this.

"I'm coming!" cried Tom. And then he saw a wonderful sight. The whole garden, his shop, the henhouse and all the surrounding territory was lighted up with a radiance almost like daylight. The beams of illumination came from the searchlight Tom had fixed outside his window, but never before had the lantern given such a glow.

"That's wonderful!" cried Tom, as he ran to examine it. "What has happened? I never had such a powerful beam before. There must be something that I have stumbled on by accident. Say, that is a light all right! Why it goes for miles and miles, and I never projected a beam as far as this before."

As Tom looked into a circle of violet-colored glass set in the side of the small searchlight, to see what had caused the extraordinary glow, he could observe nothing out of the ordinary. The violet glass was to protect the eyes from the glare.

"It must be that, by accident, I made some new connection at the dynamo," murmured Tom.

"Hi! Lemme go! Lemme go, Massa giant! I ain't done nuffin'!" yelled a voice.

"I got you!" cried Koku.

"It's an ordinary chicken thief this time I guess," said Tom. "But this light--this great searchlight--"

Then a sudden thought came to him.

"By Jove!" he cried. "If I can find out the secret of how I happened to project such a beam, it will be the very thing to focus on the smugglers from my noiseless airship! That's what I need--a searchlight such as never before has been made--a terrifically powerful one. And I've got it, if I can only find out just how it happened. I've got to look before the current dies out."

Leaving the brilliant beams on in full blast, Tom ran down the stairs to get to his shop, from which the electrical power came.

"I got him, Mr. Tom!"

"Oh, please, good Massa Swift! Make him leggo me! He suah am squeezin' de liber outer me!"

"Shall I conflict the club upon him, Mr. Tom?"

It was Koku who asked this last question, as Tom came running toward the giant. In the strange glare from the searchlight, the young inventor saw his big servant holding tightly to a rather small, colored man, while the camera, which was focused full on them, was clicking away at a great rate, taking picture after picture on the roll of films.

"No, don't inflict nor conflict the club on him, Koku," advised Tom. "Who is he?"

"I don't know, Mr. Tom. I was in hiding, in the darkness, waiting for him to come back. He had been here once before in the evening, Eradicate says. Well, he came while I was waiting and I detained him. Then the lights went up. They are very bright lights, Mr. Tom."

"Yes, brighter than I expected they would be. I must look and see what causes it. So you detained him, did you, Koku?"

"Yes, and what exposition shall I make of him?"

"What disposition?" corrected Tom, with a laugh. "Well, did he get any chickens, Koku?"

"Oh, no, I was too tight for him."

"Oh, you mean too fast, or quick. Well, if he didn't get any, I guess you might let him go. I have too much to attend to, to bother with him."

"Oh, bress yo' for dat, Massa Tom!" cried the negro, whom Tom recognized as a worthless character about the town. "I didn't go fo' to do nuffin', Massa Tom. I were jest goin' t' look in de coop, t' count an' see how many fowls mah friend Eradicate had, an' den--"

"Yes, and then I tie you!" broke in Koku.

"You collared him, I guess you mean to say," spoke Tom with a laugh. "Well, I guess, Sam," speaking to the negro, "if you had counted Rad's chickens he couldn't have counted as many in the morning. But be off, and don't come around again, or you might have to count the bars in a jail cell for a change."

"Bress yo' honey. I won't neber come back."

"Shall release him?" asked Koku doubtfully.

"Yes," said Tom.

"And not reflict the club on him?"

The giant raised his club longingly.

"Oh, Massa Tom, protect me!" cried Sam.

"No, don't even reflect the club on him," advised the young inventor with a laugh. "He hasn't done any harm, and he may have been the means of a great discovery. Remember Sam," Tom went on sternly, "I have your picture, as you were trying to break into the coop, and if you come around again, I'll use it as evidence against you."

"Oh, I won't come. Not as long as dat giant am heah, anyhow," said the negro earnestly. "Besides, I were only goin' t' count Eradicate's chickens, t' see ef he had as many as I got."

"All right," responded Tom. "Now, Koku, you may escort him off the premises, and be on the lookout the rest of the night, off and on. Where's Rad?"

"He has what he says is 'de misery' in his back so that he had to go to bed," explained the giant, to account for the faithful colored man not having responded to the alarm.

"All right, get rid of Sam, and then come back."

As Tom turned to go in his shop he saw his aged father coming slowly toward him. Mr. Swift had hastily dressed.

"What is the matter, Tom?" he asked. "Has anything happened? I heard your alarm go off, and I came as quickly as I could."

"Nothing much has happened, father, excepting a chicken thief. But something great may come of it. Do you notice that searchlight, and how powerful it is?"

"I do, Tom. I never knew you had one as big as that."

"Neither did I, and I haven't, really. That's one of my smallest ones, but something seems to have happened to it to make it throw out a beam like that. I'm just going to look. Come on in the shop."

The two inventors, young and old, entered, and Tom quickly crossed to where the wires from the automatic dynamo, extended to the searchlight outside the window of his room. He made a quick inspection.

"Look, father!" he cried. "The alternating current from the automatic dynamo has become crossed with direct current from the big storage battery in a funny way. It must have been by accident, for never in the world would I think of connecting up in that fashion. I would have said it would have made a short circuit at once."

"But it hasn't. On the contrary, it has given a current of peculiar strength and intensity--a current that would seem to be made especially for searchlights. Dad, I'm on the edge of a big discovery."

"I believe you, Tom," said his father. "That certainly is a queer way for wires to be connected. How do you account for it?"

"I can't. That is unless some one meddled with the connections after I made them. That must be it. I'll ask Rad and Koku." Just then the giant came in. "Koku, did you touch the wires?" asked Tom.

"Well, Mr. Tom, I didn't mean to. I accidentally pulled one out a while ago, when I was waiting for the thief to come, but I put it right back again. I hope I did no damage."

"No, on the contrary, you did a fine thing, Koku. I never would have dared make such connections myself, but you, not knowing any better, did just the right thing to make an almost perfect searchlight current. It is wonderful! Probably for any other purpose such a current would be useless, but it is just the thing for a great light."

"And why do you need such a powerful light, Tom?" asked Mr. Swift. "Why, it is of extraordinary brilliancy, and it goes for several miles. Look how plainly you can pick out the trees on Nob's Hill," and he pointed to an elevation some distance away from the Swift homestead, across the woods and meadows.

"I believe I could see a bird perched there, if there was one!" exclaimed Tom enthusiastically. "That certainly is a wonderful light. With larger carbons, better parobolic mirrors, a different resistance box, better connections, and a more powerful primary current there is no reason why I could not get a light that would make objects more plainly visible than in the daytime, even in the darkest night, and at a great distance."

"But what would be the object of such a light, Tom?"

"To play upon the smugglers, dad, and catch them as they come over the border in the airship."

"Smugglers, Tom! You don't mean to tell me you are going away again, and after smugglers?"

"Well, dad, I've had an offer, and I think I'll take it. There's no money in it, but I think it is my duty to do my best for Uncle Sam. The one thing that bothered me was how to get a view of the airship at night. This searchlight has solved the problem--that is if I can make a permanent invention of this accident, and I think I can."

"Oh, Tom, I hate to think of you going away from home again," said his father a bit sadly.

"Don't worry, father. I'm not going far this time. Only to the Canadian border, and that's only a few hundred miles. But I want to see if I can cut the current off, and turn it on again. When a thing happens by accident you never know whether you can get just exactly the same conditions again."

Tom shut off the current from the dynamo, and the powerful beam of light died out. Then he turned it on once more, and it glowed as brightly as before. He did this several times, and each time it was a success.

"Hurrah!" cried Tom. "To-morrow I'll start on my latest invention, a great searchlight!"

"Well, Tom, what are you up to now?"

Ned Newton peered in the window of the shop at his chum, who was busy over a bench.

"This is my latest invention, Ned. Come on in."

"Looks as though you were going to give a magic lantern show. Or is it for some new kinds of moving pictures? Say, do you remember the time we gave a show in the barn, and charged a nickel to come in? You were the clown, and--"

"I was not! You were the clown. I was part of the elephant. The front end, I think."

"Oh. so you were. I'm thinking of another one. But what are you up to now? Is it a big magic lantern?"

Ned came over toward the bench, in front of which Tom stood, fitting together sheets of heavy brass in the form of a big square box. In one side there was a circular opening, and there were various wheels and levers on the different sides and on top. The interior contained parobolic curved mirrors.

"It's a sort of a lantern, and I hope it's going to do some magic work," explained Tom with a smile. "But it isn't the kind of magic lantern you mean. It won't throw pictures on a screen, but it may show some surprising pictures to us--that is if you come along, and I think you will."

"Talking riddles; eh?" laughed Ned. "What's the answer?"

"Smugglers."

"I thought you were talking about a lantern."

"So I am, and it's the lantern that's going to show up the smugglers, so you can call it a smuggler's magic lantern if you like."

"Then you're going after them?"

This conversation took place several days after the raid on the Foger house, and after Tom's accidental discovery of how to make a new kind of searchlight. In the meantime he had not seen Ned, who had been away on a visit.

"Yes, I've made up my mind to help Uncle Sam," spoke Tom, "and this is one of the things I'll need in my work. It's going to be the most powerful searchlight ever made--that is, I never heard of any portable electric lights that will beat it."

"What do you mean, Tom?"

"I mean that I'm inventing a new kind of searchlight, Ned. One that I can carry with me on my new noiseless airship, and one that will give a beam of light that will be visible for several miles, and which will make objects in its focus as plain as if viewed by daylight."

"And it's to show up the smugglers?"

"That's what. That is it will if we can get on the track of them."

"But what did you mean when you said it would be the most powerful portable light ever made."

"Just what I said. I've got to carry this searchlight on an airship with me, and, in consequence, it can't be very heavy. Of course there are stationary searchlights, such lights as are in lighthouses, that could beat mine all to pieces for candle power, and for long distance visibility. But they are the only ones."

"That's the way to do things, Tom! Say, I'm going with you all right after those smugglers. But where are some of those powerful stationary searchlights you speak of?"

"Oh, there are lots of them. One was in the Eiffel Tower, during the Paris Exposition. I didn't see that, but I have read about it. Another is in one of the twin lighthouses at the Highlands, on the Atlantic coast of New Jersey, just above Asbury Park. That light is of ninety-five million candle power, and the lighthouse keeper there told me it was visible, on a clear night, as far as the New Haven, Connecticut, lighthouse, a distance of fifty miles."

"Fifty miles! That's some light!" gasped Ned.

"Well, you must remember that the Highlands light is up on a very high hill, and the tower is also high, so there is quite an elevation, and then think of ninety-five million candle power--think of it!"

"I can't!" cried Ned. "It gives me a head-ache."

"Well, of course I'm not going to try to beat that," went on Tom with a laugh, "but I am going to have a very powerful light." And he then related how he had accidently discovered a new way to connect the wires, so as to get, from a dynamo and a storage battery a much stronger, and different, current than usual.

"I'm making the searchlight now," Tom continued, "and soon I'll be ready to put in the lens, and the carbons."

"And then what?"

"Then I'm going to attach it to my noiseless airship, and we'll have a night flight. It may work, and it may not. If it does, I think we'll have some astonishing results."

"I think we will, Tom. Can I do anything to help you?"

"Yes, file some of the rough edges off these sheets of brass, if you will. There's an old pair of gloves to put on to protect your hands, otherwise you'll be almost sure to cut 'em, when the file slips. That brass is extra hard."

The two boys were soon working away, and were busy over the big lantern when Mr. Whitford came along. Koku was, as usual, on guard at the outer door of the shop, but he knew the custom officer, and at once admitted him.

"Well, Tom, how you coming on?" he asked.

"Pretty good. I think I've got just what I want. A powerful light for night work."

"That's good. You'll need it. They've got so they only smuggle the goods over in the night now. How soon do you think you'll be able to get on the border for Uncle Sam?"

"Why, is there any great rush?" asked Tom, as he noticed a look of annoyance pass over the agent's face.

"Yes, the smugglers have been hitting us pretty hard lately. My superiors are after me to do something, but I can't seem to do it. My men are working hard, but we can't catch the rascals."

"You see, Tom, they've stopped, temporarily, bringing goods over the St. Lawrence. They're working now in the neighborhood of Huntington, Canada, and the dividing line between the British possessions and New York State, runs along solid ground there. It's a wild and desolate part of country, too, and I haven't many men up there."

"Don't the Canadian custom officers help?" asked Ned.

"Well, they haven't been of any aid to us so far," was the answer. "No doubt they are trying, but it's hard to get an airship at night when you're on the ground, and can't even see it."

"How did they come to use airships?" asked Tom.

"Well, it was because we were too sharp after them when they tried to run things across the line afoot, or by wagons," replied the agent. "You must know that in every principal city, at or near the border line, there is a custom house. Goods brought from Canada to the United States must pass through there and pay a duty."

"Of course if lawless people try to evade the duty they don't go near the custom house. But there are inspectors stationed at the principal roads leading from the Dominion into Uncle Sam's territory, and they are always on the lookout. They patrol the line, sometimes through a dense wilderness, and again over a desolate plain, always on the watch. If they see persons crossing the line they stop them and examine what they have. If there is nothing dutiable they are allowed to pass. If they have goods on which there is a tax, they either have to pay or surrender the goods."

"But don't the smugglers slip over in spite of all the precautions?" asked Ned. "Say at some lonely ravine, or stretch of woods?"

"I suppose they do, occasionally," replied Mr. Whitford. "Yet the fact that they never can tell when one of the inspectors or deputies is coming along, acts as a stop. You see the border line is divided up into stretches of different lengths. A certain man, or men, are held responsible for each division. They must see that no smugglers pass. That makes them on the alert."

"Why, take it out west, I have a friend who told me that he often travels hundreds of miles on horseback, with pack ponies carrying his camping outfit, patroling the border on the lookout for smugglers."

"In fact Uncle Sam has made it so hard for the ordinary smuggler to do business on foot or by wagon, that these fellows have taken to airships. And it is practically impossible for an inspector patroling the border to be on the lookout for the craft of the air. Even if they saw them, what could they do? It would be out of the question to stop them. That's why we need some one with a proper machine who can chase after them, who can sail through the air, and give them a fight in the clouds if they have to."

"Our custom houses on the ground, and our inspectors on horse back, traveling along the border, can't meet the issue. We're depending on you, Tom Swift, and I hope you don't disappoint us."

"Well," spoke Tom, when Mr. Whitford had finished. "I'll do my best for you. It won't take very long to complete my searchlight, and then I'll give it a trial. My airship is ready for service, and once I find we're all right I'll start for the border."

"Good! And I hope you'll catch the rascals!" fervently exclaimed the custom official. "Well, Tom, I'm leaving it all to you. Here are some reports from my deputies. I'll leave them with you, and you can look them over, and map out a campaign. When you are ready to start I'll see you again, and give you any last news I have. I'll also arrange so that you can communicate with me, or some of my men."

"Have you given up all suspicion of the Fogers?" asked the young inventor.

"Yes. But I still think Shopton is somehow involved in the custom violations. I'm going to put one of my best men on the ground here, and go to the border myself."

"Well, I'll be ready to start in a few days," said Tom, as the government agent departed.

For the next week our hero and his chum were busy completing work on the great searchlight, and in attaching it to the airship. Koku helped them, but little of the plans, or of the use to which the big lantern was to be put, were made known to him, for Koku liked to talk, and Tom did not want his project to become known.

"Well, we'll give her a trial to-night," said Tom one afternoon, following a day of hard work. "We'll go up, and flash the light down."

"Who's going?"

"Just us two. You can manage the ship, and I'll look after the light."

So it was arranged, and after supper Tom and his chum, having told Mr. Swift were they were going, slipped out to the airship shed, and soon were ready to make an ascent. The big lantern was fastened to a shaft that extended above the main cabin. The shaft was hollow and through it came the wires that carried the current. Tom, from the cabin below, could move the lantern in any direction, and focus it on any spot he pleased. By means of a toggle joint, combined with what are known as "lazy-tongs," the lantern could be projected over the side of the aircraft and be made to gleam on the earth, directly below the ship.

For his new enterprise Tom used the Falcon in which he had gone to Siberia after the platinum. The new noiseless motor had been installed in this craft.

"All ready, Ned?" asked Tom after an inspection of the searchlight.

"All ready, as far as I'm concerned, Tom."

"Then let her go!"

Like a bird of the night, the great aeroplane shot into the air, and, with scarcely a sound that could be heard ten feet away, she moved forward at great speed.

"What are you going to do first?" asked Ned.

"Fly around a bit, and then come back over my house. I'm going to try the lantern on that first, and see what I can make out from a couple of miles up in the air."

Up and up went the Falcon, silently and powerfully, until the barograph registered nearly fourteen thousand feet.

"This is high enough." spoke Tom.

He shifted a lever that brought the searchlight into focus on Shopton, which lay below them. Then, turning on the current, a powerful beam of light gleamed out amid the blackness.

"Jove! That's great!" cried Ned. "It's like a shaft of daylight!"

"That's what I intended it to be!" cried Tom in delight.

With another shifting of the lever he brought the light around so that it began to pick up different buildings in the town.

"There's the church!" cried Ned. "It's as plain as day, in that gleam."

"And there's the railroad depot," added Tom.

"And Andy Foger's house!"

"Yes, and there's my house!" exclaimed Tom a moment later, as the beam rested on his residence and shops. "Say, it's plainer than I thought it would be. Hold me here a minute, Ned."

Ned shut off the power from the propellers, and the airship was stationary. Tom took a pair of binoculars, and looked through them at his home in the focus of light.

"I can count the bricks in the chimney!" he cried in eagerness at the success of his great searchlight. "It's even better than I thought it was! Let's go down, Ned."

Slowly the airship sank. Tom played his light all about, picking up building after building, and one familiar spot after another. Finally he brought the beam on his own residence again, when not far above it.

Suddenly there arose a weird cry. Tom and Ned knew at once that it was Eradicate.

"A comet! A comet!" yelled the colored man. "De end ob de world am comin'! Run, chillens, run! Beware ob de comet!"

"Eradicate's afraid!" cried Tom with a laugh.

"Oh good mistah comet! Doan't take me!" went on the colored man. "I ain't neber done nuffin', an' mah mule Boomerang ain't needer. But ef yo' has t' take somebody, take Boomerang!"

"Keep quiet, Rad! It's all right!" cried Tom. But the colored man continued to shout in fear.

Then, as the two boys looked on, and as the airship came nearer to the earth, Ned, who was looking down amid the great illumination, called to Tom:

"Look at Koku!"

Tom glanced over, and saw his giant servant, with fear depicted on his face, running away as fast as he could. Evidently Eradicate's warning had frightened him.

"Say, he can run!" cried Ned. "Look at him leg it!"

"Yes, and he may run away, never to come back," exclaimed Tom. "I don't want to lose him, he's too valuable. I know what happened once when he got frightened. He was away for a week before I could locate him, and he hid in the swamp. I'm not going to have that happen again."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to chase after him in the airship. It will be a good test for chasing the smugglers. Put me after him, Ned, and I'll play the searchlight on him so we can't lose him!"

"There he goes, Tom!"

"Yes, I see him!"

"Look at him run!"

"No wonder. Consider his long legs, Ned. Put on a little more speed, and keep a little lower down. It's clear of trees right here."

"There he goes into that clump of bushes."

"I see him. He'll soon come out," and Tom flashed the big light on the fleeing giant to whom fear seemed to lend more than wings.

But even a giant, long legged though he be, and powerful, cannot compete with a modern airship--certainly not such a one as Tom Swift had.

"We're almost up to him, Tom!" cried Ned a little later.

"Yes! I'm keeping track of him. Oh, why doesn't he know enough to stop? Koku! Koku!" called Tom. "It's all right! I'm in the airship! This is a searchlight, not a comet. Wait for us!"

They could see the giant glance back over his shoulder at them, and, when he saw how close the gleaming light was he made a desperate spurt. But it was about his last, for he was a heavy man, and did not have any too good wind.

"We'll have him in another minute," predicted Tom. "Give me a bit more speed, Ned."

The lad who was managing the Falcon swung the accelerating lever over another notch, and the craft surged ahead. Then Ned executed a neat trick. Swinging the craft around in a half circle, he suddenly opened the power full, and so got ahead of Koku. The next minute, sliding down to earth, Tom and Ned came to a halt, awaiting the oncoming of Koku, who, finding the glaring light full in his face, came to a halt.

"Why, Koku, what's the matter?" asked Tom kindly, as he turned off the powerful beams, and switched on some ordinary incandescents, that were on the outside of the craft. They made an illumination by which the giant could make out his master and the latter's chum. "Why did you run, Koku?" asked Tom.

"Eradicate say to," was the simple answer. "He say comet come to eat up earth. Koku no want to be eaten."

"Eradicate is a big baby!" exclaimed Tom. "See, there is no danger. It is only my new searchlight," and once more the young inventor switched it on. Koku jumped back, but when he saw that nothing happened he did not run.

"It's harmless," said Tom, and briefly he explained how the big lantern worked.

Koku was reassured now, and consented to enter the airship. He was rather tired from his run, and was glad to sit down.

"Where to now; back home?" asked Ned, as they made ready to start.

"No, I was thinking of going over to Mr. Damon's house. I'd like him to see my searchlight. And I want to find out if he's going with us on the trip to the border."

"Of course he will!" predicted Ned. "He hasn't missed a trip with you in a long while. He'll go if his wife will let him," and both boys laughed, for Mr. Damon's wife was nearly always willing to let him do as he liked, though the odd man had an idea that she was violently opposed to his trips.

Once more the Falcon went aloft, and again the searchlight played about. It brought out with startling distinctness the details of the towns and villages over which they passed, and distant landmarks were also made plainly visible.

"We'll be there in a few minutes now," said Tom, as he flashed the light on a long slant toward the town of Waterford, where Mr. Damon lived.

"I can see his house," spoke Ned a moment later. He changed the course of the craft, to bring it to a stop in the yard of the eccentric man, and, shortly afterward, they landed. Tom who had shut off the searchlight for a minute, turned it on again, and the house and grounds of Mr. Damon were enveloped in a wonderful glow.

"That will bring him out," predicted Tom.

A moment later they heard his voice.

"Bless my astronomy!" cried Mr. Damon. "There's a meteor fallen in our yard. Come out, wife--everybody--call the servants. It's a chance of a lifetime to see one, and they're valuable, too! Bless my star dust! I must tell Tom Swift of this!"

Out into the glare of the great searchlight ran Mr. Damon, followed by his wife and several of the servants.

"There it is!" cried the odd man. "There's the meteor!"

"First we're a comet and then we're a meteor," said Ned with a laugh.

"Oh. I hope it doesn't bury itself in the earth before I can get Tom Swift here!" went on Mr. Damon, capering about. "Bless my telephone book. I must call him up right away!"

"I'm here now, Mr. Damon!" shouted Tom, as he alighted from the airship. "That's my new searchlight you're looking at."

"Bless my--" began Mr. Damon, but he couldn't think of nothing strong enough for a moment, until he blurted out "dynamite cartridge! Bless my dynamite cartridge! Tom Swift! His searchlight! Bless my nitro-glycerine!"

Then Tom shut off the glare, and, as Mr. Damon and his wife came aboard he showed them how the light worked. He only used a part of the current, as he knew if he put on the full glare toward Mr. Damon's house, neighbors might think it was on fire.

"Well, that's certainly wonderful," said Mrs. Damon. "In fact this is a wonderful ship."

"Can't you take Mrs. Damon about, and show her how it works," said Mr. Damon suddenly. "Show her the ship."

"I will," volunteered Tom.

"No, let Ned," said the eccentric man. "I--er--I want to speak to you, Tom."

Mrs. Damon, with a queer glance at her husband, accompanied Ned to the motor room. As soon as she was out of hearing the odd gentleman came over and whispered to the young inventor.

"I say, Tom, what's up?"

"Smugglers. You know. I told you about 'em. I'm going after 'em with my big searchlight."

"Bless my card case! So you did. But, I say, Tom, I--I want to go!"

"I supposed you would. Well, you're welcome, of course. We leave in a few days. It isn't a very long trip this time, but there may be plenty of excitement. Then I'll book you for a passage, and--"

"Hush! Not another word! Here she comes, Tom. My wife! Don't breathe a syllable of it to her. She'll never let me go." Then, for the benefit of Mrs. Damon, who came back into the main cabin with Ned at that moment, her husband added in loud tones:

"Yes, Tom it certainly is a wonderful invention. I congratulate you," and, at the same time he winked rapidly at our hero. Tom winked in return.

"Well, I guess we'll start back," remarked Tom, after a bit. "I'll see you again, I suppose, Mr. Damon?"

"Oh yes, of course. I'll be over--soon," and once more he winked as he whispered in Tom's ear: "Don't leave me behind, my boy."

"I won't," whispered the young inventor in answer.

Mrs. Damon smiled, and Tom wondered if she had discovered her husband's innocent secret.

Tom and Ned, with Koku, made a quick trip back to Shopton, using the great searchlight part of the way. The next day they began preparations for the journey to the border.

It did not take long to get ready. No great amount of stores or supplies need be taken along, as they would not be far from home, not more than a two days' journey at any time. And they would be near large cities, where food and gasolene could easily be obtained.

About a week later, therefore, Mr. Whitford the government agent, having been communicated with in the meanwhile, Tom and Ned, with Koku and Mr. Damon were ready to start.

"I wonder if Mr. Whitford is coming to see us off?" mused Tom, as he looked to see if everything was aboard, and made sure that the searchlight was well protected by its waterproof cover.

"He said he'd be here," spoke Ned.

"Well, it's past time now. I don't know whether to start, or to wait."

"Wait a few minutes more," advised Ned. "His train may be a few minutes behind time."

They waited half an hour, and Tom was on the point of starting when a messenger boy came hurrying into the yard where the great airship rested on its bicycle wheels.

"A telegram for you, Tom," called the lad, who was well acquainted with our hero.

Hastily the young inventor tore open the envelope.

"Here's news!" he exclaimed,

"What is it?" asked Ned.

"It's from Mr. Whitford," answered his chum. "He says: 'Can't be with you at start. Will meet you in Logansville. Have new clew to the Fogers!'"

"Great Scott!" cried Ned, staring at his chum.

Tom Swift tossed a quarter to the messenger boy, and leaped over the rail to the deck of his airship, making his way toward the pilot house.

"Start the motor, Ned," he called. "Are you all ready, Mr. Damon?"

"Bless my ancient history, yes. But--"

"Are you going, Tom?" asked Ned.

"Of course. That's why we're here; isn't it? We're going to start for the border to catch the smugglers. Give me full speed, I want the motor to warm up."

"But that message from Mr. Whitford? He says he has a new clew to the Fogers."

"That's all right. He may have, but he doesn't ask us to work it up. He says he will meet us in Logansville, and he can't if we don't go there. We're off for Logansville. Good-bye dad. I'll bring you back a souvenir, Mrs. Baggert," he called to the housekeeper. "Sorry you're not coming, Rad, but I'll take you next time."

"Dat's all right, Massa Tom. I doan't laik dem smugger-fellers, nohow. Good-bye an' good luck!"

"Bless my grab bag!" gasped Mr. Damon. "You certainly do things, Tom."

"That's the only way to get things done," replied the young inventor. "How about you, Ned? Motor all right?"

"Sure."

"Then let her go!"

A moment later Ned had started the machinery, and Tom, in the pilot house, had pulled the lever of the elevating rudder. Whizzing along, but making scarcely any sound, the noiseless airship mounted upward, and was off on her flight to capture the men who were cheating Uncle Sam.

"What are you going to do first, when you get there, Tom?" asked Ned, as he joined his chum in the pilot house, having set the motor and other apparatus to working automatically. "I mean in Logansville?"

"I don't know. I'll have to wait and see how things develop."

"That's where Mr. Foger lives, you know."

"Yes, but I doubt if he is there now. He and Andy are probably still in the old house here, though what they are doing is beyond me to guess."

"What do you suppose this new clew is that Mr. Whitford wired you about?"

"Haven't any idea. If he wants us to get after it he'll let us know. It won't take us long to get there at this rate. But I think I'll slow down a bit, for the motor is warmed up now, and there's no use racking it to pieces. But we're moving nicely; aren't we, Ned?"

"I should say so. This is the best all-around airship you've got."

"It is since I put the new motor in. Well, I wonder what will happen when we get chasing around nights after the smugglers? It isn't going to be easy work, I can tell you."

"I should say not. How you going to manage it?"

"Well, I haven't just decided. I'm going to have a talk with the customs men, and then I'll go out night after night and cruise around at the most likely place where they'll rush goods across the border. As soon as I see the outlines of an airship in the darkness, or hear the throb of her motor, I'll take after her, and--"

"Yes, and you can do it, too, Tom, for she can't hear you coming and you can flash the big light on her and the smugglers will think the end of the world has come. Cracky! Its going to be great, Tom! I'm glad I came along. Maybe they'll fight, and fire at us! If they have guns aboard, as they probably will have, we'll--"

"Bless my armor plate!" interrupted Mr. Damon. "Please don't talk about such hair-raising things, Ned! Talk about something pleasant."

"All right," agreed Tom's chum, and then, as the airship sailed along, high above the earth, they talked of many things.

"I think when we sight Logansville." said Tom, after a while, "that I will come down in some quiet spot, before we reach the city."

"Don't you want to get into a crowd?" asked Ned.

"No, it isn't that. But Mr. Foger lives there you know, and, though he may not be at home, there are probably some men who are interested in the thing he is working at."

"You mean smuggling?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that. At the same time it may have leaked out that we are after the smugglers in an airship and it may be that Mr. Whitford doesn't want the Fogers to know I'm on the ground until he has a chance to work up his clew. So I'll just go slowly, and remain in the background for a while."

"Well, maybe it's a good plan," agreed Ned.
[Original text says "Tom". (note of etext transcriber.)]

"Of course," began Tom, "it would be--"

He was interrupted by a shout from Koku, who had gone to the motor room, for the giant was as fascinated over machinery as a child. As he yelled there came a grinding, pounding noise, and the big ship seemed to waver, to quiver in the void, and to settle toward the earth.

"Something's happened!" cried Ned, as he sprang for the place where most of the mechanism was housed.

"Bless my toy balloon!" shouted Mr. Damon. "We're falling, Tom!"

It needed but a glance at the needle of the barograph, to show this. Tom followed Ned at top speed, but ere either of them reached the engine room the pounding and grinding noises ceased, the airship began to mount upward again, and it seemed that the danger had passed.

"What can have happened?" gasped Tom.

"Come on, we'll soon see," said Ned, and they rushed on, followed by Mr. Damon, who was blessing things in a whisper.

The chums saw a moment later--saw a strange sight--for there was Koku, the giant, kneeling down on the floor of the motor room, with his big hands clasped over one of the braces of the bed-plate of the great air pump, which cooled the cylinders of the motor. The pump had torn partly away from its fastenings. Kneeling there, pressing down on the bed-plate with all his might, Koku was in grave danger, for the rod of the pump, plunging up and down, was within a fraction of an inch of his head, and, had he moved, the big taper pin, which held the plunger to the axle, would have struck his temple and probably would have killed him, for the pin, which held the plunger rigid, projected several inches from the smooth side of the rod.

"Koku, what is the matter? Why are you there?" cried Tom, for he could see nothing wrong with the machinery now. The airship was sailing on as before.

"Bolt break," explained the giant briefly, for he had learned some engineering terms since he had been with Tom. "Bolt that hold pump fast to floor crack off. Pump him begin to jump up. Make bad noise. Koku hold him down, but pretty hard work. Better put in new bolt, Mr. Tom."

They could see the strain that was put upon the giant in his swelling veins and the muscles of his hands and arms, for they stood out knotted, and in bunches. With all his great strength it was all Koku could do to hold the pump from tearing completely loose.

"Quick, Ned!" cried Tom. "Shut off all the power! Stop the pump! I've got to bolt it fast. Start the gas machine, Mr. Damon. You know how to do it. It works independent of the motor. You can let go in a minute, Koku!"

It took but a few seconds to do all this. Ned stopped the main motor, which had the effect of causing the propellers to cease revolving. Then the airship would have gone down but for the fact that she was now a balloon, Mr. Damon having started the generating machine which sent the powerful lifting gas into the big bag over head.

"Now you can let go, Koku," said Tom, for with the stooping of the motor the air pump ceased plunging, and there was no danger of it tearing loose.

"Bless my court plaster!" cried Mr. Damon. "What happened, Tom?"

As the giant arose from his kneeling position the cause of the accident could easily be seen. Two of the big bolts that held down one end of the pump bed-plate to the floor of the airship, had cracked off, probably through some defect, or because of the long and constant vibration on them.

This caused a great strain on the two forward bolts, and the pump started to tear itself loose. Had it done so there would have been a serious accident, for there would have been a tangle in the machinery that might never have been repairable. But Koku, who, it seems, had been watching the pump, saw the accident as soon as it occurred. He knew that the pump must be held down, and kept rigid, and he took the only way open to him to accomplish this.

He pressed his big hands down over the place where the bolts had broken off, and by main strength of muscle he held the bed-plate in place until the power was shut off.

"Koku, my boy, you did a great thing!" cried Tom, when he realized what had happened. "You saved all our lives, and the airship as well."

"Koku glad," was the simple reply of the giant.

"But, bless my witch hazel!" cried Mr. Damon. "There's blood on your hands, Koku!"

They looked at the giant's palms. They were raw and bleeding.

"How did it happen?" asked Ned.

"Where belts break off, iron rough-like," explained Koku.

"Rough! I should say it was!" cried Tom. "Why, he just pressed with all his might on the jagged end of the belts. Koku you're a hero!"

"Hero same as giant?" asked Koku, curiously.

"No, it's a heap sight better," spoke Tom, and there was a trace of tears in his eyes.

"Bless my vaseline!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, blowing his nose harder than seemed necessary. "Come over here, Koku, and I'll bandage up your hands. Poor fellow, it must hurt a lot!"

"Oh, not so bad," was the simple reply.

While Mr. Damon gave first aid to the injured, Tom and Ned put new bolts in place of the broken ones on the bed-plate, and they tested them to see that they were perfect. New ones were also substituted for the two that had been strained, and in the course of an hour the repairs were made.

"Now we can run as an aeroplane again," said Tom. "But I'm not going to try such speed again. It was the vibration that did it I guess."

They were now over a wild and desolate stretch of country, for the region lying on either side of the imaginary line dividing Canada and New York State, at the point where the St. Lawrence flows north-east, is sparsely settled.

There were stretches of forest that seemed never to have been penetrated, and here and there patches of stunted growth, with little lakes dotted through the wilderness. There were hills and valleys, small streams and an occasional village.

"Just the place for smuggling," observed Tom, as he looked at a map, consulted a clock and figured out that they must be near Logansville. "We can go down here in one of these hollows, surrounded by this tangled forest, and no one would ever know we were here. The smugglers could do the same."

"Are you going to try it?" asked Ned.

"I think I will. We'll go up to quite a height now, and I'll see if I can pick out Logansville. That isn't much of a place I guess. When I sight it I'll select a good place to lay hidden for a day or two, until Mr. Whitford has had a chance to work up his clew."

The airship machinery was now working well again, and Tom sent his craft up about three miles. From there, taking observations through a powerful telescope, he was able, after a little while, to pick out a small town. From its location and general outline he knew it to be Logansville.

"We'll go down about three miles from it," he said to his chum. "They won't be likely to see us then, and we'll stay concealed for a while."

This plan was put into operation, and, a little later the Falcon came to rest in a little grassy clearing, located in among a number of densely wooded hills. It was an ideal place to camp, though very lonesome.

"Now, Ned, let's cut a lot of branches, and pile them over the airship," suggested Tom.

"Cover over the airship? What for?"

"So that in case anyone flies over our heads they won't look down and see us. If the Fogers, or any of the smugglers, should happen to pass over this place, they'd spot us in a minute. We've got to play foxy on this hunt."

"That's so," agreed his chum; and soon the three of them were busy making the airship look like a tangled mass of underbrush. Koku helped by dragging big branches along under his arm, but he could not use his hands very well.

They remained in the little grassy glade three days, thoroughly enjoying their camp and the rest. Tom and Ned went fishing in a nearby lake and had some good luck. They also caught trout in a small stream and broiled the speckled beauties with bacon inside them over live coals at a campfire.

"My! But that's good!" mumbled Ned, with his mouth full of hot trout, and bread and butter.

"Yes, I'd rather do this than chase smugglers," said Tom, stretching out on his back with his face to the sky. "I wish--"

But he did not finish the sentence. Suddenly from the air above them came a curious whirring, throbbing noise. Tom sat up with a jump! He and Ned gazed toward the zenith. The noise increased and, a moment later, there came into view a big airship, sailing right over their heads.

"Look at that!" cried Tom.

"Hush! They'll hear you," cautioned Ned.

"Nonsense! They're too high up," was Tom's reply. "Mr. Damon, bring me the big binoculars, please!" he called.

"Bless my spectacles, what's up?" asked the odd gentleman as he ran with the glasses toward Tom.

Our hero focused them on the airship that was swiftly sailing across the open space in the wilderness but so high up that there was no danger of our friends being recognized. Then the young inventor uttered a cry of astonishment.

"It's Andy Foger!" he cried. "He's in that airship, and he's got two men with him. Andy Foger, and it's a new biplane. Say, maybe that's the new clew Mr. Whitford wired me about. We must get ready for action! Andy in a new airship means business, and from the whiteness of the canvas planes, I should say that craft was on its first trip."

"Tom, are you sure it's Andy?"

"Take a look yourself," replied the young inventor, passing his chum the binoculars.

"Bless my bottle of ink!" cried Mr. Damon. "Is it possible?"

"Quick, Ned, or you'll miss him!" cried Tom.

The young bank clerk focused the glasses on the rapidly moving airship, and, a moment later, exclaimed:

"Yes, that's Andy all right, but I don't know who the men are with him."

"I couldn't recognize them, either," announced Tom. "But say, Ned, Andy's got a good deal better airship than he had before."

"Yes. This isn't his old one fixed over. I don't believe he ever intended to repair the old one. That hiring of Mr. Dillon to do that, was only to throw him, and us, too, off the track."

Ned passed the glasses to Mr. Damon, who was just in time to get a glimpse of the three occupants of Andy's craft before it passed out of sight over the trees.

"I believe you're right," said Tom to his chum. "And did you notice that there's quite a body, or car, to that craft?"

"Yes, room enough to carry considerable goods," commented Ned. "I wonder where he's going in it?"

"To Logansville, most likely. I tell you what it is, Ned. I think one of us will have to go there, and see if Mr. Whitford has arrived. He may be looking for us. I'm not sure but what we ought not to have done this first. He may think we have not come, or have met with some accident."

"I guess you're right, Tom. But how shall we go? It isn't going to be any fun to tramp through those woods," and Ned glanced at the wilderness that surrounded the little glade where they had been camping.

"No, and I've about concluded that we might as well risk it, and go in the airship. Mr. Whitford has had time enough to work up his clew, I guess, and Andy will be sure to find out, sooner or later, that we are in the neighborhood. I say let's start for Logansville."

Ned and Mr. Damon agreed with this and soon they were prepared to move.

"Where will you find Mr. Whitford?" asked Ned of his chum, as the Falcon arose in the air.

"At the post-office. That's where we arranged to meet. There is a sort of local custom house there, I believe."

Straight over the forest flew Tom Swift and his airship, with the great searchlight housed on top. They delayed their start until the other craft had had a chance to get well ahead, and they were well up in the air; there was no sight of the biplane in which Andy had sailed over their heads a short time before.

"Where are you going to land?" asked Ned, as they came in view of the town.

"The best place I can pick out," answered Tom. "Just on the outskirts of the place, I think. I don't want to go down right in the centre, as there'll be such a crowd. Yet if Andy has been using his airship here the people must be more or less used to seeing them."

But if the populace of Logansville had been in the habit of having Andy Foger sail over their heads, still they were enough interested in a new craft to crowd around when Tom dropped into a field near some outlying houses. In a moment the airship was surrounded by a crowd of women and children, and there would probably been a lot of men, but for the fact that they were away at work. Tom had come down in a residential section.

"Say, that's a beauty!" cried one boy.

"Let's see if they'll let us go on!" proposed another.

"We're going to have our own troubles," said Tom to his chum. "I guess I'll go into town, and leave the rest of you on guard here. Keep everybody off, if you have to string mildly charged electrical wires about the rail."

But there was no need to take this precaution, for, just as the combined juvenile population of that part of Logansville was prepared to storm, and board the Falcon, Koku appeared on deck.

"Oh, look at the giant!"

"Say, this is a circus airship?"

"Wow! Ain't he big!"

"I'll bet he could lift a house!"

These and other expressions came from the boys and girls about the airship. The women looked on open-mouthed, and murmurs of surprise and admiration at Koku's size came from a number of men who had hastily run up.

Koku stepped from the airship to the ground, and at once every boy and girl made a bee-line for safety.

"That will do the trick!" exclaimed Tom with a laugh. "Koku, just pull up a few trees, and look as fierce as Bluebeard, and I guess we won't be troubled with curiosity seekers. You can guard the airship, Koku, better than electric wires."

"I fix 'em!" exclaimed the giant, and he tried to look fierce, but it was hard work, for he was very good natured. But he proved a greater attraction than the aircraft, and Tom was glad of it, for he did not like meddlers aboard.

"With Koku to help you, and Mr. Damon to bless things. I guess you can manage until I come back, Ned," said the young inventor, as he made ready to go in to town to see if Mr. Whitford had arrived.

"Oh, we'll get along all right," declared Ned. "Don't worry."

Tom found Mr. Whitford in one of the rooms over the post-office. The custom house official was restlessly pacing the floor.

"Well, Tom!" he exclaimed, shaking hands, "I'm glad to see you. I was afraid something had happened. I was delayed myself, but when I did arrive and found you hadn't been heard from, I didn't know what to think. I couldn't get you on the wireless. The plant here is out of repair."

Tom told of their trip, and the wait they had decided on, and asked:

"What about the new clew; the Fogers?"

"I'm sorry to say it didn't amount to anything. I ran it down, and came to nothing."

"You know Andy has a new airship?"

"Yes. I had men on the trail of it. They say Andy is agent for a firm that manufactures them, but I have my doubts. I haven't given up yet. But say, Tom, you've got to get busy. A big lot of goods was smuggled over last night."

"Where?"

"Well, quite a way from here. I got a telegram about it. Can you get on the job to-night, and do some patrol work along the border? You're only half a mile from it now. Over there is Canada," and he pointed to a town on a hill opposite Logansville.

"Yes, I can get right into action. What place is that?"

"Montford, Canada. I've got men planted there, and the Dominion customs officials are helping us. But I think the smugglers have changed the base of their operations for the time being. If I were you I'd head for the St. Lawrence to-night."

"I will. Don't you want to come along?"

"Why, yes. I believe I'm game. I'll join you later in the day," Mr. Whitford added, as Tom told him where the Falcon was anchored.

The young inventor got back to find a bigger crowd than ever around his airship. But Koku and the others had kept them at a distance.

With the government agent aboard Tom sent his craft into the air at dusk, the crowd cheering lustily. Then, with her nose pointed toward the St. Lawrence, the Falcon was on her way to do a night patrol, and, if possible, detect the smugglers.

It was monotonous work, and unprofitable, for, though Tom sent the airship back and forth for many miles along the wonderful river that formed the path from the Great Lakes to the sea, he had no glimpse of ghostly wings of other aircraft, nor did he hear the beat of propellers, nor the throb of motors, as his own noiseless airship cruised along.

It came on to rain after midnight, and a mist crept down from the clouds, so that even with the great searchlight flashing its powerful beams, it was difficult to see for any great distance.

"Better give it up, I guess," suggested Mr. Whitford toward morning, when they had covered many miles, and had turned back toward Logansville.

"All right," agreed Tom. "But we'll try it again to-morrow night."

He dropped his craft at the anchorage he had selected in the gray dawn of the morning. All on board were tired and sleepy. Ned, looking from a window of the cabin, as the Falcon came to a stop, saw something white on the ground.

"I wonder what that is?" he said as he hurried out to pick it up. It was a large white envelope, addressed to Tom Swift, and the name was in printed characters.

"Somebody who wants to disguise their writing," remarked Tom, as he tore it open. A look of surprise came over his face.

"Look here! Mr. Whitford," he cried. "This is the work of the smugglers all right!"

For, staring at Tom, in big printed letters, on a white sheet of paper, was this message:

"If you know what is good for you, Tom Swift, you had better clear out. If you don't your airship will burned, and you may get hurt. We'll burn you in mid-air. Beware and quit. You can't catch us."