TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS

OR

Battling with Flames from the Air

By

VICTOR APPLETON

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I A BAD PLACE FOR A FIRE

II NO USE OF LIVING!

III TOM'S NEW IDEA

IV AN EXPERIMENT

V THE EXPLOSION

VI TOM IS WORRIED

VII A FORCED LANDING

VIII STRANGE TALK

IX SUSPICIONS

X ANOTHER ATTEMPT

XI THE BLAZING TREE

XII TOM IS LONESOME

XIII A SUCCESSFUL TEST

XIV OUT OF THE CLOUDS

XV COALS OF FIRE

XVI VIOLENT THREATS

XVII A TOWN BLAZE

XVIII FINISHING TOUCHES

XIX ON THE TRAIL

XX A HEAVY LOAD

XXI THE LIGHT IN THE SKY

XXII TRAPPED

XXIII TO THE RESCUE

XXIV A STRANGE DISCOVERY

XXV THE LIGHT OF DAY

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS

CHAPTER I

A BAD PLACE FOR A FIRE

"IMPOSSIBLE, Ned! It can't be as much as that!"

"Well, you can prove the additions yourself, Tom, on one of the

adding machines. I've been over 'em twice, and get the same

result each time. There are the figures. They say figures don't

lie, though it doesn't follow that the opposite is true, for

those who do not stick closely to the truth do, sometimes,

figure. But there you have it; your financial statement for the

year," and Ned Newton, business manager for Tom Swift, the

talented young inventor, shoved a mass of papers across the table

to his friend and chum, as well as employer.

"It doesn't seem possible, Ned, that we have made as much as

that this past year. And this, as I understand it, doesn't

include what was taken from the wreck of the Pandora?"

Tom Swift looked questioningly at Ned Newton, who shook his

head in answer.

"You really didn't get anything to speak of out of your

undersea search, Tom," replied the young financial manager, "so I

didn't include it. But there's enough without that."

"I should say so!" exclaimed Tom. "Whew!" he whistled, "I

didn't think I was worth that much."

"Well, you've earned it, every cent, with the inventions of

yourself and your father."

"And I might add that we wouldn't have half we earn if it

wasn't for the shrewd way you look after us, Ned," said Tom, with

a warm smile at his friend. "I appreciate the way you manage our

affairs; for, though I have had some pretty good luck with my

searchlight, wizard camera, war tank and other contraptions, I

never would have been able to save any of the money they brought

in if it hadn't been for you."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," remarked Ned modestly.

"I appreciate that," began Tom Swift. "And I want to say,

Ned--"

But Tom did not say what he had started to. He broke off

suddenly, and seemed to be listening to some sound outside the

room of his home where he and his financial and business manager

were going over the year's statement and accounting.

Ned, too, in spite of the fact that he had been busy going over

figures, adding up long columns, checking statements, and giving

the results to Tom, had been aware, in the last five minutes, of

an ever-growing tumult in the street. At first it had been no

more than the passage along the thoroughfare of an unusual number

of pedestrians. Ned had accounted for it at first by the theory

that some moving picture theater had finished the first

performance and the people were hurrying home.

But after he had finished his financial labors and had handed

Tom the first of a series of statements to look over, the young

financial expert began to realize that there was no moving

picture house near Tom's home. Consequently the passing throngs

could not be accounted for in that way.

Yet the tumult of feet grew in the highway outside. Ned had

begun to wonder if there had been an attempted burglary, a fight,

or something like that, calling for police action, which had

gathered an unusual throng that warm, spring evening.

And then had come Tom's interruption of himself when he broke

off in the middle of a sentence to listen intently.

"What is it?" asked Ned.

"I thought I heard Rad or Koku moving around out there,"

murmured Tom. "It may be that my father is not feeling well and

wants to speak to me or that some one may have telephoned. I told

them not to disturb me while you and I were going over the

accounts. But if it is something of importance--"

Again Tom paused, for distinctly now in addition to the ever-

increasing sounds in the streets could be heard a shuffling and

talking in the hall just outside the door.

"G'wan 'way from heah now!" cried the voice of a colored man.

"It is Rad!" exclaimed Tom, meaning thereby Eradicate Sampson,

an aged but faithful colored servant. And then the voice of Rad,

as he was most often called, went on with:

"G'wan 'way! I'll tell Massa Tom!"

"Me tell! Big thing! Best for big man tell!" broke in another

voice; a deep, booming voice that could only proceed from a

powerfully built man.

"Koku!" exclaimed Tom, with a half comical look at Ned. "He and

Rad are at it again!"

Koku was a giant, literally, and he had attached himself to Tom

when the latter had made one of many perilous trips. So eager

were Eradicate and Koku to serve the young inventor that

frequently there were more or less good-natured clashes between

them to see who would have the honor.

The discussion and scuffle in the hall at length grew so

insistent that Tom, fearing the aged colored man might

accidentally be hurt by the giant Koku, opened the door. There

stood the two, each endeavoring to push away the other that the

victor might, it appeared, knock on the door. Of course Rad was

no match for Koku, but the giant, mindful of his great strength,

was not using all of it.

"Here! what does this mean?" cried Tom, rather more sternly

than he really meant. He had to pretend to be stern at times with

his old colored helper and the impulsive and powerful giant.

"What are you cutting up for outside my door when I told you I

must be quiet with Mr. Newton?"

"No can be quiet!" declared the giant. "Too much noise in

street--big crowds--much big!"

He spoke an English of his own, did Koku.

"What are the crowds doing?" asked Ned. "I thought we'd been

hearing an ever increasing tumult, Tom," he said to the young

inventor.

"Big crowds--'um go to see big--"

"Heah! Let me tell Massa Tom!" pleaded Rad. Poor Rad! He was

getting old and could not perform the services that once he had

so readily and efficiently done. Now he was eager to help Tom in

such small measure as carrying him a message. So it was with a

feeling of sadness that Tom heard the old man say again,

pleadingly:

"Let me tell him, Koku! I know all 'bout it! Let me tell Massa

Tom whut it am, an'--"

"Well, go ahead and tell me!" burst out Tom, with a good-

natured laugh. "Don't keep me in suspense. If there's anything

going on--"

He did not finish the sentence. It was evident that something

of moment was going on, for the crowds in the street were now

running instead of walking, and voices could be heard calling

back and forth such exclamations as:

"Where is it?"

"Must be a big one

"And with this wind it'll be worse!"

Tom glanced at Ned and then at the two servants.

"Has anything happened?" asked the young inventor.

"Dey's a big fire, Massa Tom!" exploded Rad.

"Heap big blaze!" added Koku.

At the same time, out in the street high and clear, the cry

rang out:

"Fire! Fire!"

"Is it any of our buildings?" exclaimed Tom, in his excitement

catching hold of the giant's arm.

"No, it's quite a way off, on de odder side of town," answered

the colored man. "But we t'ought we'd better come an' tell yo',

an'--"

"Yes! Yes! I'm glad you did, Rad. It was perfectly right for

you to tell me! I wish you'd done it sooner, though! Come on,

Ned! Let's go to the blaze! We can finish looking over the

figures another time. Is my father all right, Rad?"

"Yes, suh, Massa Tom, he's done sleepin' good."

"Then don't disturb him. Mr. Newton and I will go to the fire.

I'm glad it isn't here," and Tom looked from a side window out on

many shops that were not a great distance from the house; shops

where he and his father had perfected many inventions.

The buildings had grown up around the old Swift homestead,

which, now that so much industry surrounded it, was not the most

pleasant place to live in. Tom and his father only made this

their stopping place in winter. In the summer they dwelt in a

quiet cottage far removed from the scenes of their industry.

"We'll take the electric runabout, Ned," remarked Tom, as he

caught up a hat from the rack, an example followed by his friend.

Together the young inventor and the financial manager hurried out

to the garage, where Tom soon had in operation a small electric

automobile, that, more than once, had proved its claim to being

the "speediest car on the road."

As they turned out of the driveway into the street they became

aware of great crowds making their way toward a glow of sinister

red light showing in the eastern sky.

"Some blaze!" exclaimed Tom, as he turned on more power.

"You said it!" ejaculated Ned. "Must be a general alarm," he

added, as they caught the sound from the next street of

additional apparatus hurrying to the fire.

"Well, I'm glad it isn't on our side of town," remarked Tom, as

he looked back at the peaceful gloom surrounding and covering his

own home and work buildings.

"Where do you reckon it is?" asked Ned, as they sped onward.

"Hard to say," remarked the young inventor, as he steered to

one side to pass a powerful imported automobile which, however,

did not have the speed of the electric runabout. "A fire at night

is always deceiving as to direction. But we can locate it when we

get to the top of the hill."

Shopton, the suburb of the town where Tom lived, was named so

because of the many shops that had been erected by the industry

of the young inventor and his father. In fact the town was named

Shopton though of late there had been an effort to change the

name of the strictly residential section, which lay over the hill

toward the river.

Tom's car shot up the slope with scarcely any slackening of

speed, and, as he passed a group of men and boys running onward,

Tom shouted:

"Where is it?"

"The fireworks factory!" was the answer.

"Fireworks factory!" cried Ned. "Bad place for a fire!"

"I should say so!" exclaimed Tom.

The chums had become gradually aware of the gale that was

blowing, and, as they reached the summit of the hill and caught

sight of the burning factory, they saw the flames being swept far

out from it and toward a collection of houses on the other side

of a vacant lot that separated the fireworks industrial plant

from the dwellings. As Tom Swift glimpsed the fire, noted its

proportions and the fierceness of the flames, and saw which way

the wind was blowing them, he turned on the power to the utmost.

"What are you doing, Tom?" yelled Ned.

"I'm going down there!" cried Tom. "That place is likely to

explode any minute!"

"Then why go closer?" gasped Ned, for his breath was almost

taken away by the speed of the car, and he had to hold his hat to

keep it from blowing away. "Why don't you play safe?"

"Don't you understand?" shouted Tom in his chum's ear. "The

wind is blowing the fire right toward those houses! Mary Nestor

lives in one of them!"

"Oh--Mary Nestor!" exclaimed Ned. Then he understood--Mary and

Tom were engaged to be married.

"They may be all right," Tom went on. "I can't be sure from

this distance. Or they may be in danger. It's a bad fire and--"

His voice was blotted out in the roar of an explosion which

seemed to hurl back the electric runabout and bring it to a

momentary stop.

CHAPTER II

NO USE OF LIVING!

Only momentarily was Tom Swift halted in his progress toward

the scene of the blaze in the fireworks factory. To him, and to

the chum who sat beside him on the seat of the electric runabout,

it appeared that the blast had actually stopped the progress of

the car. But perhaps that was more their imagination than

anything else, for the machine swept on down the hill, at the

foot of which was the conflagration.

"That was a bad one, Ned!" gasped Tom, as he turned to one side

to pass an engine on its way to the scene of excitement.

"I should say so! Must have been somebody hurt in that

blow-up!"

"I only hope it wasn't Mary or her folks!" murmured Tom. "The

wind is sweeping the fire right that way!"

"What are you going to do, Tom?" yelled his chum, as the

business manager saw the young inventor heading directly for the

blaze. "What's the idea?"

"To rescue Mary, if she's in danger!"

"I'm with you!" was Ned's quick response. "But you can't go any

closer. The police are stretching the fire lines!"

"I guess they'll let me through!" said Tom grimly.

He slowed his car as he approached a place where an officer was

driving back the throng that sought to come closer to the blaze.

"Git back! Git back, I tell you!" stormed the policeman,

pushing against the packed bodies of men and boys. "There'll be

another blow-up in a minute or two, and a lot more of you

killed!"

"Are there any killed?" asked Tom, stopping the car near the

officer.

"I guess so--yes. And some of the houses are catching. Git back

now! You, too, with that car! You'll have to back up!"

"I've got to go through!" replied Tom, with tightening lips.

"I've got to go through, Cassidy!" He knew the officer, and the

latter now seemed, for the first time, to recognize the young

inventor.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Swift?" he exclaimed. "Well, go

ahead. But be careful. 'Tis dangerous there--very dangerous,

an'--"

His voice was lost in the roar of another explosion, not as

loud or severe as the first, but more plainly felt by Tom and

Ned, for they were nearer to it.

"Now will you git back!" cried Policeman Cassidy, and the crowd

did, without further urging.

Tom started the runabout forward again.

"We've got to rescue Mary!" he said to Ned, who nodded.

In another moment the two young men were lost to sight in a

swirl of smoke that swept across the street. And while they are

thus temporarily hidden may not this opportunity be taken of

telling new readers something of the hero of this story?

The young inventor was introduced in the first volume of this

series, called "Tom Swift and his Motor Cycle." It was Tom's

first venture into the realms of invention, after he had

purchased from Mr. Wakefield Damon a speedy machine that tried to

climb a tree with that excitable gentleman.

Tom, with the help of his father, an inventor of note, rebuilt

the motor cycle adding many improvements, and it served Tom in

good stead more than once.

From then on the career of Tom Swift was steadily onward and

upward. One new invention led to another from his second venture,

a motor boat, through an airship and other marvels, and

eventually to a submarine. In each of these vehicles of motion

and travel Tom and his friends, Ned Newton and Mr. Damon, had

many adventures, detailed in the respective volumes.

His venture in proceeding to save Mary Nestor from possible

danger in the blaze of the fireworks factory was not the first

time Tom had rendered service to the Nestor family. There was

that occasion on which he had sent his wireless message from

Earthquake Island, as related in an earlier volume.

Space forbids the detailing of all that had happened to the

young inventor up to the time of the opening of this story.

Sufficient to say that Tom's latest achievement had been the

recovery of treasure from the depths of the ocean.

Tom Swift's activities in connection with his inventions had

become so numerous that the Swift Construction Company, of which

Ned Newton was financial manager and Mr. Damon one of the

directors, had been formed. And when the rumor came that there

was a chance to salvage some of the untold wealth at the bottom

of the sea, Tom was interested, as were his friends.

It was decided to search for the wreck of the Pandora, sunk in

the West Indies, and one of Tom's latest submarine craft was

utilized for this purpose.

Not to go into all the details, which are given in the last

volume of this series, entitled "Tom Swift and His Undersea

Search," suffice it to say that the venture was begun. Matters

were complicated owing to the fact that Mary Nestor's uncle,

Barton Keith, was in trouble over the loss of valuable papers

proving his title to some oil lands. Mary mentioned that a

person, Dixwell Hardley, was the man who, it was supposed, was

trying to defraud her relative. And the complications may be

imagined when it is said that this same Hardley was the man who

had interested Tom in the undersea search for the riches of the

Pandora.

Tom had been at home some time now, and it was while going over

his accounts with Ned, and, incidentally, planning new

activities, that the cry of fire broke in on them.

"Whew, Tom, some heat there!" gasped Ned, lowering his arm from

his face, an action which had been necessitated by Tom's daring

in driving the car close to the blazing fireworks factory.

"I should say so!" agreed Tom. "I can almost smell the rubber

of my tires burning. But we're out of the worst of it."

"Lucky she didn't take the notion to blow up as we were

passing," grimly commented Ned. "Where are you aiming for now?"

"Mary's house. It's just beyond here. But we can't see it on

account of the smoke."

A few seconds later they had passed through the black pall that

was slashed here and there with red slivers of flame, and, coming

to a more open space, Ned and Tom cleared their eyes of smoke.

"I guess there's no immediate danger," remarked Tom, as he saw

that the home of Mary Nestor and the houses near her residence

were, for the time being, out of the path of the flames. The

explosion had blown down part of the blazing factory nearest the

residential section, and the flames had less to feed on.

But the conflagration was still a fierce one. Not half the big

factory was yet consumed, and every now and then there would

sound dull, booming reports, causing nervous screams from the

women who were out in front of their homes, while the men would

crouch down as though fearing a shower of fiery embers.

"Oh, Tom, I'm so glad you're here!" cried Mary, as the runabout

drew up in front of her home. "Do you think it will be much

worse?" and she clutched his arm, as he got down to speak to her.

"I think the worst is over, as far as you people here are

concerned," the young inventor replied. "The wind has shifted a

bit."

"And there are several engines near us, Tom," said Mr. Nestor,

coming forward. "The firemen tell me they will play streams of

water on the roofs and outsides of our houses if the flames start

this way again."

"That ought to do the trick," said Tom, with a show of

confidence. "Anybody hurt around here?" he asked. "One of the

policeman said he heard several were killed."

"They may have been--in the factory," said Mr. Nestor. "Of

course if the fire and explosions had taken place in the daytime

the loss of life would have been great. But most of the workers

had left some time before the blaze was discovered. There are a

few men on a night shift, though, and I shouldn't be surprised

but what some of them had suffered."

"Too bad!" murmured the young inventor. "You're not worried

about your home, are you, Mrs. Nestor?" he asked of Mary's

mother.

"Oh, Tom, I certainly am!" she exclaimed. "I wanted to bring

out our things, but Mr. Nestor said it wouldn't be of any use."

"Neither it would, if we've got to burn, but I don't believe we

have--now," said her husband. "That last explosion and the shift

of the wind saved us. I appreciate your coming over, Tom," he

went on. "We might have needed your help. It's queer there isn't

some better, or more effective, way of fighting a fire than just

pouring on a comparatively insignificant bit of water," he added,

as, from what was now a safe distance, they watched the firemen

using many lines of hose.

"They do have chemical extinguishers," said Ned.

"Yes, for little baby blazes that have just started," went on

Mr. Nestor. "But in all the progress of science there has not

been much advance in fighting fires. We still do as they did a

hundred years ago--squirt water on it, and mighty little of it

compared to the blaze. It would take a week to put this fire out

by the water they are using if it were not for the fact that the

blaze eats itself up and has nothing more to feed on."

"We'll have to get Tom to invent a new way of fighting fire,"

remarked Ned.

The young inventor was about to reply when several firemen,

equipped with smoke helmets which they adjusted as they ran, came

running down the street.

"What's the matter?" asked Tom of one whom he knew.

"Some men are trapped in a small shed back of the factory," was

the answer. "We just heard of it, and we're going in after them.

Oh! Oh--my--my heart!" he gasped, and he sank to the sidewalk.

Evidently he was either overcome by the smoke and poisonous gases

or by his exertions.

Tom grasped the situation instantly. Taking the smoke helmet

from the exhausted fire-fighter, the young inventor shouted:

"I'll fill your place! See if you can grab a hat, Ned, and come

on!"

One of the other firemen had two helmets, and he offered Ned

one. Pausing only long enough to see that Mr. Nestor and some

others were looking after the exhausted "smoke-eater," Ned raced

on after Tom. The two young men, following the firemen, made

their way around the end of the factory to the smoke-filled yard

in the rear. But for the helmets, which were like the gas masks

of the Great War, they would not have been able to live.

One of the firemen pointed through the luridly-lighted smoke to

a small structure near the main building. This was beginning to

burn. With quick blows of an axe the door was hewed down, and the

rescue party, including Tom and Ned, made its way inside. In the

light from the blaze, as it filtered through the windows, it

could be seen that a man lay in a huddled heap on the floor.

By motions the leader of the rescue squad made it clear that

the man was to be carried out, and Tom helped with this while

Ned, using an axe, cleared away some debris to enable the door to

be opened fully so the men could pass out carrying their burden.

The man was taken to the Nestor yard and stretched out on the

grass. Word was relayed to one of the ambulance doctors who were

on the scene attending to several injured firemen, and in a short

time the man, who, it appeared, had been overcome by smoke, was

revived.

"Well, that was a narrow squeak for you," said one of the

firemen, glad to breathe without a mask on.

"Yes, it was touch and go," remarked the young doctor, who had

used heroic measures to bring the man back from the brink of the

grave. "But you'll live now, all right."

The revived man looked dully about him. He seemed somewhat

bewildered.

"Of what use to live?" he murmured. "You might as well have let

me die in there. Life isn't worth living now," and he sank into a

stupor, while Tom and the others looked wonderingly at one

another.

CHAPTER III

TOM'S NEW IDEA

"What's the matter with him, Doctor?" asked Tom in a low voice

of the young physician who had been working over the man. "Do you

think he is worse hurt than appears? Is he dying, and is his mind

wandering?"

"I don't believe so," answered the doctor. "At least I don't

believe that he is dying, though his mind may be wandering. He

isn't injured--at least not outwardly. Just temporarily overcome

by smoke is what it looks like to me. But of course I haven't

made a thorough examination."

"Hadn't we better get him into the house, Doctor?" asked Mr.

Nestor, who stood with Tom, Ned and a group of men and boys about

the inert form of the man lying on the grass. The rescued one was

again seemingly unconscious.

"The best medicine he can have is fresh air, the doctor

replied. "He's better off out here than in the house. Though if

he doesn't revive presently I will send him to the hospital."

The man did not appear to be so badly off but what he could

hear, and at these words he opened his eyes again.

"I don't want to go to the hospital," he murmured. "I'll be all

right presently, and can go home, though--Oh, well, what's the

use?" he asked wearily, as though he had given up some fight.

"I've lost everything."

"Well, you've got a deal of life left in you yet; and that's

more than you could say of some who have come out of smaller

fires than this," said one of the firemen who, with Tom, had

carried the man out of the shed. "Come on, we'd better be getting

back," he said to his companion. "The worst of it is over, but

there'll be plenty to do yet."

"You said it!" commented the other grimly.

They went out of the Nestor yard, many of the crowd that had

gathered during the rescue following. The doctor administered

some more stimulant in the shape of aromatic spirits of ammonia

to the man, who, after his momentary revival, had again lapsed

into a state of stupor.

"Who is he?" asked Tom, as the physician knelt down beside the

silent form.

"I don't know," said Mr. Nestor. "I know quite a number

connected with the fireworks factory, but this man is a stranger

to me."

"I've seen him going into the main offices several times,"

remarked Mary, who was standing beside Tom. "He seemed to be one

of the company officers."

"I don't believe so, Mary," stated her father. "I know most of

the fireworks company officials, and I'm sure this man is not one

of them. Poor fellow! He seems to be in a bad way."

"Mentally, as well as physically," put in Ned. "He acted as if

sorry that we had saved his life."

"Too bad," murmured Mary, and then a policeman, who had just

come into the yard to get the facts for his report, looked at the

figure lying on the grass, and said:

"I know him."

"You do?" cried Tom. "Who is he?"

"Name's Baxter, Josephus Baxter. He's a chemist, and he works

in the fireworks factory here. Not as one of the hands, but in

the experiment laboratory. I've seen him there late at night lots

of times. That's how I got acquainted with him. He was going in

around two o'clock one morning, and I stopped him, thinking he

was a thief. He proved his identity, and I've passed the time of

day with him many a time since"

"Where does he live?" asked Mr. Nestor.

"Down on Clay Street," and the officer mentioned the number.

"He lives all alone, so he told me. He's some sort of an

inventor, I guess. At least I judged so by his talk. Do you want

an ambulance, Doctor?" he asked the physician.

"No, I think he's coming around all right," was the answer. "If

we had an auto we could send him home."

"I'll take him in the runabout," eagerly offered Tom. "But if

he lives all alone will it be safe to leave him in his house?"

"He ought to be looked after, I suppose," the doctor stated.

"He'll be all right in a day or so if no complications set in,

but he'll be weak for a while and need attention."

"Then I'll take him home with me!" announced Tom. "We have

plenty of room, and Mrs. Baggert will feel right at home with

some one to nurse. Bring the runabout here, will you please,

Ned?"

As Ned darted off to run up the machine, the man opened his

eyes again. For a moment he did not seem to know where he was or

what had happened. Then, as he saw the lurid light of the flames

which were now dying away and realized his position, he sighed

heavily and murmured:

"It's all over!"

"Oh, no, it isn't!" cheerfully exclaimed the doctor. "You will

be all right in a few days."

"Myself, yes, maybe," said the man bitterly, and he managed to

rise to his feet. "But what of my future? It is all gone! The

work of years is lost."

"Burned in the fire?" asked Tom, wondering whether the man was

a major stockholder in the company. "Didn't you have any

insurance? Though I suppose you couldn't get much on a fireworks

plant," he added, for he knew something of insurance matters in

connection with his own business.

"Oh, it isn't the fire--that is directly," said the man, in the

same bitter tones. "I've lost everything! The scoundrels stole

them! And I--Oh, never mind!" he cried. "What's the use of

talking? I'm down and out! I might just as well have died in the

fire!"

Tom was about to make some remark, but the doctor motioned to

him to refrain, and then Ned came up with the runabout. At first

Josephus Baxter, which was the name of the man who had been

rescued, made some objections to going to Tom's home. But when it

was pointed out that he might lapse into a stupor again from the

effects of the smoke poisons, in which event he would have no one

to minister to him at his lonely home, he consented to go to the

residence of the young inventor.

"Though if I do lapse into unconsciousness you might as well

let me keep on sleeping until the end," said Mr. Baxter bitterly

to Tom and Ned, as they drove away from the scene of the fire

with him.

"Oh, you'll feel better in the morning," cheerfully declared

Ned.

The man did not answer, and the two chums did not feel much

like talking, for they were worn out and weary from their

exertions at the fire. The factory had been pretty well consumed,

though by strenuous labors the blaze had not extended to

adjoining structures. The home of Mary Nestor was saved, and for

this Tom Swift was thankful.

Mrs. Baggert, the Swift's housekeeper, was indeed glad to have

some one to "fuss over," as Tom put it. She prepared a bed for

Mr. Baxter, and in this the weary and ill man sank with a sigh of

relief.

"Can I do anything for you?" asked Tom, as he was about to go

out and close the door.

"No--thank you," was the halting reply. "I guess nothing can be

done. Field and Melling have me where they want me now--down and

out."

"Do you mean Amos Field and Jason Melling of the fireworks

firm?" asked Tom, for the names were familiar to him in a

business way.

"Yes, the--the scoundrels!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter, and from his

voice Tom judged that he was growing stronger. "They pretended to

be my friends, giving me a shop in which to work and experiment,

and when the time came they took my secret formulae. I believe

that is what they started the fire for--to conceal their crime!"

"You don't mean that!" cried Tom. "Deliberately to start a fire

in a factory where there was powder and other explosives! That

would be a terrible crime!"

"Field and Melling are capable of just such crimes as that!"

said Josephus Baxter, bitterly. "If they took my formulae they

wouldn't stop at arson."

"Were your formulae for the manufacture of fireworks?" asked

Tom.

"Not altogether," was the reply. "I had several formulae for

valuable chemical combinations. They could be used in fireworks,

and that is why I could use the laboratory here. But the main use

of my discoveries is in the dye industry. I would have been a

millionaire soon, with the rise of the American dye industry

following the shutting out of the Germans after the war. But now,

with my secret formulae gone, I am no better than a beggar!"

"Perhaps it will not be as bad as you think," said Tom,

recognizing the fact that Mr. Baxter was in a nervous and excited

state. "Matters may look brighter in the morning."

"I don't see how they can," was the grim answer. "However, I

appreciate all that you have done for me. But I fear my case is

hopeless."

"I'll see you again in the morning," Tom said, trying to infuse

some cheerfulness into his voice.

He found Ned waiting for him when he came downstairs.

"How is he?" asked the young business manager.

"In rather a bad way--mentally, at least," and Tom told of the

lost formulae. "Do you know, Ned," he went on, "I have an idea!"

"You generally do have--lots of 'em!" Ned rejoined.

"But this is a new one," went on Tom. "You saw what trouble

they had this evening to get a stream of water to the top stories

of that factory, didn't you?"

"Yes, the pressure here isn't what it ought to be," Ned agreed.

"And some of our engines are old-timers."

"Why is it necessary always to fight a fire with water?" Tom

continued. "There are plenty of chemicals that will put out a

fire much quicker than water."

"Of course," Ned answered. "There are plenty of chemical fire

extinguishers on the market, too, Tom. If your idea is to invent

a new hand grenade, stay off it! A lot of money has been lost

that way."

"I wasn't thinking of a hand grenade," said Tom, as he drew

some sheets of paper across the table to him. "My idea is on a

bigger scale. There's no reason, Ned, why a big fire in a tall

building, like a sky-scraper, shouldn't be fought from above, as

well as from below. Now if I had the right sort of chemicals I

could--"

Tom paused in a listening attitude. There was the rush of feet

and a voice cried:

"I'll get them! I'll get the scoundrels!"

CHAPTER IV

AN EXPERIMENT

"That can't be Koku and Rad in one of their periodic squabbles,

can it?" asked Ned.

"No. It's probably Mr. Baxter," Tom answered. "The doctor said

he might get violent once or twice, until the effects of his

shock wore off. There is some quieting medicine I can give him.

I'll run up."

"Guess I'd better go along," remarked Ned. "Sounds as if you'd

need help."

And it did appear so, for again the frenzied shouts sounded:

"I'll get 'em! I'll get the scoundrels who stole my secret

formulae that I worked over so many years! Come back now! Don't

put the match near the powder!"

Tom and Ned hurried to the room where the unfortunate chemist

had been put to bed, to find him out in the hall, wrapped in a

bedquilt, and with Mrs. Baggert vainly trying to quiet him. Mr.

Baxter stared at Tom and Ned without seeing them, for he was in a

delirium of fever.

"Have you my formulae?" he asked. "I want them back!"

"You shall have them in the morning," replied Tom soothingly.

"Lie down, and I'll bring them to you in the morning. And drink

this," he added, holding out a glass of soothing mixture which

the doctor had ordered in case the patient should become violent.

Josephus Baxter glared about with wild eyes, but between them

Tom and Mrs. Baggert managed to get him to drink the mixture.

"Bah! It's as bad as some of my chemicals!" spluttered the

chemist, as he handed back the glass. "You are sure you'll have

my formulae in the morning?" he asked, as he turned to go back to

his room.

"I'll do my best," declared Tom cheerfully. "Now please lie

down."

Which, after some urging, Mr. Baxter consented to do. Eradicate

wanted to lie down in the hall outside the excited chemist's door

to guard against his emerging again, but Tom decided on Koku. The

giant, though not as intelligent as the colored man, was more

efficient in an emergency because of his great strength.

Eradicate was getting old, and there was a pathetic droop to his

figure as he shuffled off when Koku superseded him.

"Ah done guess Ah ain't wanted much mo'," muttered Rad sadly.

"Oh, yes, you are!" cried Tom, as, the excitement over, he

walked downstairs with Ned. "I'm going to start something new,

Rad, and I'll need your help."

"Will yo', really, Massa Tom?" exclaimed faithful Rad, his face

lighting up. "Dat's good! Is yo' goin' off after mo' diamonds, or

up to de caves of ice?"

"Not quite that," answered the young inventor, recalling the

stirring experiences that had fallen to him when on those

voyages. "I'm going to work around home, Rad, and I'll need your

help."

"Anyt'ing yo' wants, Massa Tom! Anyt'ing yo' wants!" offered

the now delighted Rad, and he went to bed much happier.

"Well, to resume where we left off," began Ned, when he and Tom

were once more by themselves, "what's the game?"

"Oh, I don't know that it's much of a game," was the answer.

"But I just have an idea that a big fire in a towering building

can be fought from above with chemicals, as well as from the

ground with streams of water.

"Well, I guess it could be," Ned agreed. "But how are you going

to get your chemicals in at the top? Shoot 'em up through a hose?

If you do that you'll need a special kind of hose, for the

chemicals will rot anything like rubber or canvas."

"I wasn't thinking of a hose," returned Tom. "What then?" asked

the young financial manager.

"An airship!" Tom exclaimed with such sudden energy that Ned

started. "It just came to me!" explained the youthful inventor.

"I was wondering how we could get the chemicals in from the top,

and an airship is the solution. I can sail over the burning

building and drop the chemicals down. That will douse the blaze

if my plans go right."

Ned was silent a moment, considering Tom's daring plan and

project. Then, as it became clearer, the young banker cried:

"Blamed if I don't think that's just the thing, Tom! It ought

to work, and, if it does, it will save a lot of lives, to say

nothing of property! A fire in a sky-scraper ought to be fought

from above. Then the extinguisher element, whether chemicals or

water, could be dropped where they'd do the most good. As it is

now, with water, a lot of it is wasted. Some of it never reaches

the heart of the fire, being splashed on the outside of the

building. A lot more turns to steam before it hits the flames,

and only a small percentage is really effective."

"That's my notion," Tom said.

"Then go ahead and do it!" urged his friend. "You have my

permission!"

"Thanks," commented Tom dryly. "But there are several things to

be worked out before we can start. I've got to devise some scheme

for carrying a sufficient quantity of chemicals, and invent some

way of releasing them from an airship over the blaze. But that

last part ought to be easy, for I think I can alter my warfare

bomb-dropping attachment to serve the purpose.

"What I really need, however, is some new chemical combination

that will quickly put a really big blaze out of business. There

are any number of these chemicals, but most of them depend on the

production of carbon dioxide. This is the product of some

solution of a carbonate and sulphuric acid, and I suppose,

eventually, I'll work out something on that order. But I hope I

may get something better."

"You haven't delved much into chemistry, have you?"

"No. And I wish now that I had. I see my limitations and

realize my weakness. But I can brush up a little on my chemistry.

As for the mechanical part, that of dropping the extinguisher on

the blaze, I'm not worrying over that end."

"No," agreed Ned. "You have enough types of airships to be able

to select just the best one for the purpose. But, say, Tom!" he

suddenly cried, "why not ask him to help you?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Baxter. He's a chemist. And though he says his formulae

are about dyes and fireworks, maybe he can put you in the way of

inventing a chemical solution that will be death to fires."

"He might," Tom agreed. "But I think he'll be out of business

for some time. This shock--being overcome by smoke and his secret

formulae having been stolen--seem to have affected his mind. I

don't know that I could depend on him."

"It's worth trying," declared Ned. "What do you suppose he

means, Tom, saying that Field and Melling stole his formulae?"

"Haven't the least idea. I only know those fireworks firm

members slightly, if at all. I'm not sure I'd recognize them if I

met them. But they are reputed to be wealthy, and I hardly think

they would stoop to stealing some inventor's formulae.

"We inventors are a suspicious lot, Ned, as you probably have

found out," he added with a smile. "We imagine the rest of the

world is out to cheat us, and I presume Josephus Baxter is no

exception. Still, there may be some truth in his story. I'll give

him all the help I can. But I'm going into the aerial fire-

fighting game. I've been waiting for something new, and this may

be it."

"You may count on me!" declared Ned. "And now, unless you're

going to sit up all night and start studying chemistry, you'd

better come to bed."

"That's right. Tomorrow is another day. I hope Mr. Baxter gets

some rest. Sleep will improve him a lot, the doctor said."

"I know one friend of yours who will be glad to know that you

are going to start something," remarked Ned, as he and Tom

started for their rooms, for the young manager was staying with

his friend for the night.

"Who?" Tom wanted to know.

"Mr. Wakefield Damon," was the answer. "He hasn't been over

lately, Tom."

"No, he's been off on a little trip, blessing everything from

his baggage check to his suspender buttons," laughed the young

inventor, as he recalled his eccentric acquaintance. "I shall be

glad to see him again."

"He'll be right over as soon as he learns what's in the wind,"

predicted Ned.

The hopes that Mr. Baxter would be greatly improved in the

morning were doomed to disappointment. He was in no actual

danger, the doctor said, but his recovery from the effects of the

smoke he had breathed was not as rapid as desired or hoped for.

"He's suffering from some shock," said the physician, "and his

mental condition is against him. He ought to be kept quiet, and

if you can't have him here, Mr. Swift, I can arrange to have him

sent to a hospital."

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Tom exclaimed. "Let him stay here by

all means. We have plenty of room, and Mrs. Baggert has been

wishing for some one to nurse. Now she has him."

So it was arranged that the chemist should remain at the Swift

home, and he gave a languid assent when they spoke to him of the

matter. He really was much more ill than seemed at first.

But as everything possible had been done, Tom decided to go

ahead with the new idea that had come to him--that of inventing

an aerial chemical fire-fighting machine.

"And if we get a chance, Ned, we'll try to get back those

secret formulae Mr. Baxter claims to have lost," Tom declared. "I

have heard some stories about that fireworks firm, which make me

believe there may be something in Baxter's story."

"All right, Tom, I'm with you any time you need me," Ned

promised.

The young inventor lost little time in beginning his

operations. As he had said, the chief need was a fire

extinguishing chemical solution or powder. Tom resolved to try

the solution first, as it was easier to make. With this end in

view he proceeded to delve into old and new chemistry books. He

also sought the advice of his father.

And one day, when Ned called, Tom electrified his chum with the

exclamation:

"Well, I'm going to give it a try!"

"What?"

"My aerial chemical fire-fighting apparatus. Of course I only

have the chemical yet. I haven't worked on the carrying apparatus

nor decided how I will attach it to an airship. But I'm going up

now with some of my new solution and drop it on a blaze from

above."

"Where are you going to get the fire?" asked Ned. "You can't

have a sky-scraper blaze made to order, you know."

"No, but as this is only an experiment," Tom said, "a big

bonfire will answer the purpose. I'm having Koku and Rad make one

now down in our big meadow. As soon as it gets hot enough and

fierce enough, I'll sail over it in my small machine, drop the

extinguisher on it, and see what happens. Want to come?"

"Sure thing!" cried Ned. "And I hope the experiment is a

success!"

"Thanks," murmured Tom. "I'm about ready to start. All I have

to do is to take this tank up with me," and he pointed to one

containing his new mixture. "Of course the arrangement for

dumping it out of the aircraft is very crude," Tom said. "But I

can work on that later."

Ned and he were busy putting the can of Tom's new chemical

extinguisher in the airship when the door of the hangar was

suddenly opened and a very much excited man entered crying:

"Fire! Fire! Bless my kitchen sink, your meadow's on fire, Tom

Swift! It's blazing high! Fire! Fire!"

CHAPTER V

THE EXPLOSION

Tom and Ned were so startled by the entrance of the excited man

with his cry of "Fire!" that the young inventor nearly dropped

the tank of liquid extinguisher he was helping to hoist into the

aeroplane. Then, as he caught sight of his visitor, Tom

exclaimed:

"Hello, Mr. Damon! We were wondering whether you'd be along to

witness our first experiment."

"Experiment, Tom Swift! Experiment! Bless my Latin grammar! but

you'd much better be calling out the fire department to play on

that blaze down in your meadow. What is it--your barns or one of

your new shops?"

"Neither one, Mr. Damon," laughed Ned. "It's only a blaze that

Koku and Rad started."

"And the fire department is here," added Tom.

"Where?" inquired the eccentric man.

"Here," and Tom pointed to his airship--one of the smaller

craft--into which the tank of chemicals had been hoisted.

"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Something new, eh, Tom?" His eyes

glistened.

"Yes. Fighting fires from the air. I got the idea after the

fireworks factory went up in smoke. Will you come along? There's

plenty of room."

"I believe I will," assented Mr. Damon. It was not the first

time, by any means, that he had gone aloft with Tom. "I happened

to be coming over in my auto," he went on to explain, "when I

happened to see the fire down in the meadow. I was afraid you

didn't know about it."

"Oh, yes," replied Tom. "I had Rad and Koku light a big pile of

packing boxes, to represent, as nearly as possible, on a small

scale, a burning building. I plan now to sail over it and drop

the tins of chemicals. They are arranged to burst as they fall

into the blaze, and I hope the carbon dioxide set loose will

blanket out the fire."

"Sounds interesting," commented Mr. Damon. "I'll go along."

The airship was wheeled out of the hangar and was soon ready

for the flight. A big cloud of black vapor down in the meadow

told Tom and Ned that Koku and Eradicate had done their work

well. The giant and the colored man had poured oil over the wood

to make a fierce blaze that would give Tom's new chemical

combination a severe test.

A mechanic turned the propeller of the airship until there was

an accumulation of gas in the different cylinders. Then he

stepped back while Tom threw on the switch. This was not one of

the self-starting types, of which Tom possessed one or two.

"Contact!" cried Tom sharply, and the man stepped forward to

give the big blades a final turn that would start the motor.

There was a muffled roar and then a steady staccato blending of

explosions. Tom raced the motor while his men held the machine in

place, and then, satisfied that all was well, the young inventor

gave the word, and the craft raced over the ground, to soar aloft

a little later.

Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon could look down to the meadow where the

bonfire was blazing. A crowd had collected, but the heat of the

blaze kept them at a good distance. Then, as many of the throng

caught sight of the airship overhead, there was a new interest

for them.

Tom had told Ned and Mr. Damon, before the trio had entered the

machine, what he wanted them to do. This was to toss the

chemicals overboard at the proper time. Of course in his

perfected apparatus Tom hoped to have a device by which he could

drop the fire extinguishing elements by a mere pressure of his

finger or foot, as bombs were released from aircraft during the

war. But this would serve for the time being.

Nearer and nearer the blaze the airship approached until it was

almost above it. Tom had had some experience in bomb-dropping,

and knew when to give the signal.

At last the signal came. Mr. Damon and Ned heaved over the side

the metal containers of the powerful chemicals.

Down they went, unerring as an arrow, though on a slant, caused

by the impetus given them by the speed of the airship.

Tom and his friends leaned over the side of the machine to

watch the effect. They could see the chemicals strike the blaze,

and it was evident from the manner in which the fire died down

that the containers had broken, as Tom intended they should to

scatter their contents.

"Hurray!" cried Ned, forgetting that he could not be heard, for

no head telephones were used on this occasion and the roar of the

motor would drown any human voice. "It's working, Tom!"

Truly the effect of the chemicals was seemingly to cause the

fire to go out, but it was only a momentary dying down. Koku and

Rad had made a fierce, yet comparatively small, conflagration,

and though for a time the gas generated by Tom's mixture dampened

the blaze, in a few seconds--less than half a minute--the flames

were shooting higher than ever.

Tom made a gesture of disappointment, and swung his craft

around in a sharp, banking turn. He had no more chemicals to

drop, as he had thought this supply would be sufficient. However,

he had guessed badly. The fire burned on, doing no damage, of

course, for that had been thought of when it was started in the

meadow.

"Something wrong!" declared the young inventor, when they were

back at the hangar, climbing out of the machine.

"What was it?" asked Ned.

"Didn't use the right kind of chemicals," Tom answered. "From

the way the flames shot up, you'd think I had poured oil on the

blaze instead of carbon dioxide."

"Bless my insurance policy, Tom!" cried Mr. Damon, "but I'd

hate to trust to your apparatus if my house caught."

"Don't blame you," Tom assented. "But I'll do the trick yet!

This is only a starter!"

During the next two weeks the young inventor worked hard in his

laboratory, Mr. Swift sometimes helping him, but more often Koku

and Eradicate. Mr. Baxter had recovered sufficiently to leave the

Swift home. But though the chemist seemed well physically, his

mind appeared to be brooding over his loss.

"If I could only get my secret formulae back!" he sighed, as he

thanked Tom for his kindness. "I'm sure Field and Melling have

them. And I believe they got them the night of the fireworks

blaze; the scoundrels!"

"Well, if I can help you, please let me," begged Tom. And then

he dismissed the matter from his mind in his anxiety to hit upon

the right chemical mixture for putting out fires from the air.

One afternoon, at the end of a week in which he had been busily

and steadily engaged on this work, Tom finally moved away from

his laboratory table with a sigh of relief, and, turning to

Eradicate, who had been helping him, exclaimed:

"Well, I think I have it now!"

"Good lan' ob massy, I hopes so!" exclaimed the colored man.

"It sho' do smell bad enough, Massa Tom, to make any fire go an'

run an' drown hisse'f! Whew-up! It's turrible stuff!"

"Yes, it isn't very pleasant," Tom agreed, with a smile.

"Though I am getting rather used to it. But when it's in a metal

tube it won't smell, and I think it will put out any fire that

ever started. We'll give it a test now, Rad. Just take that flask

of red stuff and pour it into this one of yellow. I'll go out and

light the bonfire, and we'll make a small test."

Leaving Rad to mix some of the chemicals, a task the colored

man had often done before, Tom went out into the yard near his

laboratory to start a blaze on which his new mixture could be

tested.

He had not got far from the laboratory door when he felt a

sudden jar and a rush of air, and then followed the dull boom of

an explosion. Like an echo came the voice of Eradicate:

"Oh, Massa Tom, I'se blowed up! It done sploded right in mah

face!"

CHAPTER VI

TOM IS WORRIED

Dropping what he had in his hands, Tom Swift raced back to the

laboratory where he had left Eradicate to mix the chemicals.

Again the despairing, frightened cry of the colored man rang out.

"I hope nothing serious has happened," was the thought that

flashed through Tom's mind. "But I'm afraid it has. I should have

mixed those new chemicals myself."

Koku, the giant, who was at work in another part of the shop

yard, heard Rad's cry and came running up. As there was always

more or less jealousy between Eradicate and Koku, the latter now

thought he had a chance to crow over his rival, not, of course,

understanding what had happened.

"Ho! Ho!" laughed Koku. "You much better hab me work, Master

Tom. I no make blunderstakes like dat black fellow! I never no

make him!"

"I don't know whether Rad has made a mistake or not," murmured

Tom. "Come along, Koku, we may need your help. There has been an

explosion."

"Yep, dat Rad he don't as know any more as to blow up de whole

place!" chuckled Koku.

He thought he would have a chance to make fun of Eradicate, but

neither he nor Tom realized how serious had been the happening.

As the young inventor reached the laboratory, which he had left

but a few seconds before, he saw the interior almost in ruins. All

about were scattered various pieces of apparatus, test tubes,

alembics, retorts, flasks, and an electric furnace.

But what gave Tom more concern than anything else was the sight

of Eradicate lying in the midst of broken glass on the floor. The

colored man was moaning and held his hands over his face, and the

young inventor could see that the hands, which had labored so

hard and faithfully in his service, were cut and bleeding.

"Rad! Rad! what has happened?" cried Tom quickly.

"It sploded! It done sploded right in mah face!" moaned

Eradicate. "I--I can't see no mo', Massa Tom! I can't see to help

yo' nevah no mo'!"

"Don't worry about that, Rad!" cried Tom, as cheerfully as

possible under the circumstances. "We'll soon have you fixed up!

Come in here, Koku, and help me carry Rad out!"

Though the fumes from the chemicals that had exploded were

choking, causing both Tom and Koku to gasp for breath, they never

hesitated. In they rushed and picked up the limp figure of the

helpless colored man.

"Poor Rad!" murmured the giant Koku tenderly. "Him bad hurt! I

carry him, Master Tom! I take him bed, an' I go for doctor! I run

like painted pig!"

Probably Koku meant "greased pig," but Tom never thought of

that. All his concern was for his faithful Eradicate.

"Me carry him, Master Tom!" cried Koku, all the petty jealousy

of his rival passing away now. "Me take care ob Rad. Him no see,

me see for him. Anybody hurt Rad now, got to hurt Koku first!"

It was a fine and generous spirit that the giant was showing,

though Tom had no time to speculate on it just then.

"We must get him into the house, Koku," said the young

inventor. "And two of us can carry him better than one. After we

get him to a bed you can go for the doctor, though I fancy the

telephone can run even quicker than you can, Koku."

"Whatever Master Tom say," returned the giant humbly, as he

looked with pity at the suffering form of his rival--a rival no

longer. It seemed that Rad's working days were over.

Tenderly the aged colored man was laid on a lounge in the

living room, Mr. Swift and Mrs. Baggert hovering over him.

"Where are you worst hurt, Rad?" asked Tom, with a view to

getting a line on which physician would be the best one to

summon.

"It's all in mah face, Massa Tom," moaned the colored man.

"It's mah eyes. Dat stuff done sploded right in 'em! I can't see

--nevah no mo'!"

"Oh, I guess it isn't as bad as that," said Tom. But when he

had a glimpse of the seared and wounded face of his faithful

servant he could not repress a shudder.

A physician was summoned by telephone, and he arrived in his

automobile at the same time that Mr. Damon reached Tom's house.

"Bless my bottle of arnica, Tom!" exclaimed the eccentric man,

with sympathy in his voice. "What's this I hear? One of your men

tells me old Eradicate is killed!"

"Not as bad as that, yet," replied Tom, as he came out, leaving

the doctor to make his first examination. "It was an explosion of

my new aerial fire-fighting chemicals that I left Rad to mix for

me. If anything serious results to him from this I'll drop the

whole business! I'll never forgive myself!"

"It wasn't your fault, Tom. Perhaps he did something wrong,"

said Mr. Damon.

"Yes, it was my fault. I should not have let him take the

chance with a mixture I had tried only a few times. But we'll

hope for the best. How is he, Doctor?" Tom asked a little later

when the physician came out on the porch.

"He's doing as well as can be expected for the present," was

the answer. "I have given him a quieting mixture. His worst

injury seems to be to his face. His hands are cut by broken

glass, but the hurts are only superficial. I think we shall have

to get an eye specialist to look at him in a day or two."

"You mean that he--that he may go blind?" gasped Tom.

"Well, we'll not decide right away," replied the doctor, as

cheerfully as he could. "I should rather have the opinion of an

oculist before making that statement. It may be only temporary."

"That's bad enough!" muttered Tom. "Poor old Rad!"

"Me take care ob him," put in Koku, who had been humbly

standing around waiting to hear the news. "Me never be mad at dat

black man no more! Him my best friend! I lub him like I did my

brudder!"

"Thank you, Koku," said Tom, and his mind went back to the time

when he had escaped in his airship from the gigantic men, of whom

Koku and his brother were two specimens. The brother had gone

with a circus, and Koku, for several years, only saw him

occasionally.

Everything possible was done for Eradicate, and the doctor said

that it would be several days, until after the burns from the

exploding chemicals had partly healed, before the eye-doctor

could make an examination.

"Then we can only wait and hope," said Tom.

"And hope for the best!" advised Mr. Damon.

"I'll try," promised Tom. He went back to the laboratory with

his eccentric friend and with Ned, who had come over as soon as

he heard the news. Not much of an examination could be made, as

the place was in such ruins. But it was surmised that in

combining the two chemical mixtures a new one had been created,

or at least one that Tom had not counted on. This had exploded,

blowing Eradicate down, flaring a sheet of flame up into his

face, scattering broken glass about, and generally creating

havoc.

"I can't understand it," said Tom. "I was trying to make a fire

extinguishing liquid, and it turned out to be a fire creator. I

don't see what was wrong."

"One chemical might have been impure," suggested Ned.

"Yes," agreed Tom. "I'll check them over and try to find out

where the mistake happened."

"This place will have to be rebuilt," observed Ned. "It's in

bad shape, Tom."

"I don't mind that in the least, if Rad doesn't lose his

eyesight," was the answer of the young inventor, and his friends

could see that he was much worried, as well he might be.

In silence Tom Swift looked about the ruins of what had been a

fine chemical laboratory.

"It will take a month to get this back in shape," he said

ruefully. "I guess I shall have to postpone my experiments."

"Why not ask Mr. Baxter to help you?" suggested Ned.

"What can he do?" Tom wanted to know. "He hasn't any

laboratory."

"He has a sort of one," Ned rejoined. "You know you told me to

keep track of him and give him any help I could."

"Yes," Tom nodded.

"Well, the other day he came to me and said he had a chance to

set up a small laboratory in a vacant shop near the river. He

needed a little capital and I lent it to him, as you told me to."

"Glad you did," returned Tom. "But do you suppose his plant is

large enough to enable me to work there until mine is in shape

again?"

"It wouldn't do any harm to take a look," suggested Ned.

"I'll do it!" decided Tom, more hopefully than he had spoken

since the accident.

CHAPTER VII

A FORCED LANDING

Josephus Baxter seemed to have recovered some of his spirits

after his narrow escape from death in the fireworks factory

blaze. He greeted Tom and Ned with a smile as they entered the

improvised laboratory he had been able to set up in what had once

been a factory for the making of wooden ware, an industry that,

for some reason, did not flourish in Shopton.

"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Swift," said the chemist, who seemed

to have aged several years in the few weeks that had intervened

since the fire. "I want to thank you for giving me a chance to

start over again."

"Oh, that's all right," said Tom easily. "We inventors ought to

help one another. Are you able to do anything here?"

"As much as possible without my secret formulae," was the

answer. "If I only had those back from the rascals, Field and

Melling, I would be able to go ahead faster. As it is, I am

working in the dark. For some of the formulae were given to me by

a Frenchman, and I had only one copy. I kept that in the safe of

the fireworks concern, and after the fire it could not be found."

"Was the safe destroyed?" asked Tom.

"No. But the doors were open, and much of what had been inside

was in ashes and cinders. Amos Field claimed that the explosion

had blown open the safe and burned a lot of their valuable

fireworks formulae too."

"And you believe they have yours?" asked Ned.

"I'm sure of it!" was the fierce answer. "Those men are

unprincipled rogues! They had been at me ever since I was foolish

enough to tell them about my formulae to get me to sell them a

share. But I refused, for I knew the secret mixtures would make

my fortune when I could establish a new dye industry. Field and

Melling claimed they wanted the formulae for their fireworks, but

that was only an excuse. The formulae were not nearly so valuable

for pyrotechnics as for dyes. The fireworks business is not so

good, either, since so many cities have voted for a 'Sane Fourth

of July.'"

"I can appreciate that," said Tom. "But what we called for, Mr.

Baxter, is to find if you have room enough to let me do a little

experimenting here. I am working on a new kind of fire

extinguisher, to be dropped on tall buildings from an airship."

"Sounds like a good idea," said the chemist, rather dreamily.

"Well, I have the airship, and I can see my way clear to

perfecting a device to drop the chemicals in metal tanks or

bombs," went on Tom. "But what bothers me is the chemical mixture

that will put out fires better than the carbon dioxide mixtures

now on the market."

"I haven't given that much study myself," said Mr. Baxter. "But

you are welcome to anything I have, Mr. Swift. The whole place,

such as it is, will be at your disposal at any time. I intend to

have it in better shape soon, but I have to proceed slowly, as I

lost nearly everything I owned in that fire. If I could only get

those formulae back!" he sighed.

"Perhaps you may recall the combinations, suggested Ned. "Or

can't you get them from that Frenchman?"

"He is dead," answered the chemist. "Everything seems to be

against me!"

"Well, it's always darkest just before daylight," said Tom. "So

let us hope for the best. We both have had a bit of bad luck. But

when I think of Rad, who may lose his eyesight, I can stand my

losses smiling."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Baxter, "you have big assets when you have

your health and eyesight."

Three days later the eye specialist looked at Rad. Tom stood by

anxiously and waited for the verdict. The doctor motioned to the

young inventor to follow him out of the room, while Mrs. Baggert

replaced the bandages on the colored man's eyes and Koku stood

near him, sympathetically patting Rad on the back.

"Well?" asked Tom nervously, as he faced the physician.

"I am sorry, Mr. Swift, that I can not hold out much hope that

your man will ever regain his sight," was the answer.

Tom could not repress a gasp of pity.

"I do not say that the case is altogether hopeless," the doctor

went on; "but it would be wrong to encourage you to hope for

much. I may be able to save partly the sight of one eye."

"Poor Rad!" murmured Tom. "This will break his heart."

"There is no need for telling him at once," Dr. Henderson said.

"It will only make his recovery so much the slower. It will be

weeks before I am able to operate, and, meanwhile, he should be

kept as comfortable and cheerful as possible."

"We'll see to that," declared Tom. "Is he otherwise injured?"

"No, it is merely his eyesight that we have to fear for. And,

as I said, that is not altogether hopeless, though it would not

be honest to let you look for much success. I shall see him from

time to time until his eyes are ready to operate on."

Tom and his friends were forced to take such comfort as they

could from this verdict, but no hint of their downcast feelings

were made manifest to Eradicate.

"Whut de doctor man done say, Massa Tom?" asked Eradicate when

the young inventor went back into the sick room.

"Oh, he talked a lot of big Latin words, Rad--bigger words than

you used to use on your mule Boomerang," and Tom forced a laugh.

"All he meant was that you'd have to stay in bed a while and let

Koku wait on you."

"Huh! Am dat--dat big--dat big nice man heah now?" asked Rad,

feeling around with his bandaged hand; and a smile showed beneath

the cloth over his eyes.

"I here right upsidedown by you, Rad," said Koku, and his big

hand clasped the smaller one of the black man.

"Koku--yo'--yo' am mighty good to me," murmured Eradicate. "I

reckon I been cross to yo' sometimes, but I didn't mean nuffin'

by it!"

"Huh! me an' you good friends now," said the giant. "Anybody

what hurt my Rad, I--I--bust 'im! Dat I do!" cried the big

fellow.

"Come on," whispered Tom to Ned. "They'll get along all right

together now."

But Eradicate caught the sound of his young employer's

footsteps and called:

"Yo' goin', Massa Tom?"

"Yes, Rad. Is there anything you want?"

"No, Massa Tom. I jest wanted to ast if yo' done 'membered de

time mah mule Boomerang got stuck in de road, an' yo' couldn't

git past in yo' auto? Does yo' 'member dat?"

"Indeed I do!" laughed Tom, and Eradicate also chuckled at the

recollection.

"That laugh will do him more good than medicine," declared the

doctor, as he took his leave. "I'll come again, when I can make a

more thorough examination," he added.

For Tom the following days, that lengthened into weeks, were

anxious ones. There was a constant worry over Eradicate. Then,

too, he was having trouble with his latest invention--his aerial

fire-fighting apparatus. It was not that Tom was financially

dependent on this invention. He was wealthy enough for his needs

from other patented inventions he and his father owned.

But Tom Swift was a lad not easily satisfied. Once embarked on

an enterprise, whether it was the creation of a gigantic

searchlight, an electric rifle, a photo telephone or a war tank,

he never rested until he had brought it to a successful

consummation.

But there was something about this chemical fire extinguishing

mixture that defied the young inventor's best efforts. Mixture

after mixture was tried and discarded. Tom wanted something

better than the usual carbonate and sulphuric combination, and he

was not going to rest until he found it.

"I think you've struck a blind lead, Tom," said Ned, more than

once.

"Well, I'm not going to give up," was the firm answer.

"Bless my shoe laces!" cried Mr. Damon, when he had called on

Tom once at the Baxter laboratory and had been driven out,

holding his breath, because of the chemical fumes, "I should

think you couldn't even start a fire with that around, Tom, much

less need to put one out."

"Well, it doesn't seem to work," said the young inventor

ruefully. "Everything I do lately goes wrong."

"It is that way sometimes," said Mr. Baxter. "Suppose you let

me study over your formulae a bit, Mr. Swift. I haven't given

much thought to fire extinguishers, but I may be able, for that

very reason, to approach the subject from a new angle. I'll lay

aside my attempt to get back the lost formulae and help you."

"I wish you would!" exclaimed Tom eagerly. "My head is woozie

from thinking! Suppose I leave you to yourself for a time, Mr.

Baxter? I'll go for an airship ride."

"Yes, do," urged the chemist. "Sometimes a change of scene is

of benefit. I'll see what I can do for you."

"Will you come along, Ned--Mr. Damon?" asked Tom, as he

prepared to leave the improvised laboratory, the repairs on his

own not yet having been finished.

"Thank you, no," answered Ned. "I have some collections to

make."

"And I promised my wife I'd take her riding, Tom," said the

jolly, eccentric man. "Bless my umbrella! she'd never forgive me

if I went off with you. But I'll run you to your first stopping

place, Ned, and you to your hangar, Tom."

His invitation was accepted, and, in due season, Tom was

soaring aloft in one of his speedy cloud craft.

"Guess I'll drop down and get Mary Nestor," he decided, after

riding about alone for a while and finding that the motor was

running sweetly and smoothly. "She hasn't been out lately."

Tom made a landing in a field not far from the home of the girl

he hoped to marry some day, and walked over to her house.

"Go for a ride? I just guess. I will!" cried Mary, with

sparkling eyes. "Just wait until I get on my togs."

She had a leather suit, as had Tom, and they were soon in the

machine, which, being equipped with a self-starter, did not need

the services of a mechanician to whirl the propellers.

"Oh, isn't it glorious!" said Mary, as she sat at Tom's side.

They were in a little enclosed cabin of the craft--which carried

just two--and, thus enclosed, they could speak by raising their

voices somewhat, for the noise of the motor was much muffled, due

to one of Tom's inventions.

Other rides on other days followed this one, for Tom found more

rest and better refreshment after his hours of toil and study in

these rides with Mary than in any other way.

"I do love these rides, Tom!" the girl cried one day when the

two were soaring aloft. "And this one I really believe is better

than any of the rest. Though I always think that," she added,

with a slight laugh.

"Glad you like it," Tom answered, and there was something in

his voice that caused Mary to look curiously at him.

"What's the matter, Tom?" she asked. "Has anything happened? Is

Rad's case hopeless?"

"Oh, no, not yet. Of course it isn't yet sure that he will ever

see again, but, on the other hand, it isn't decided that he

can't. It's a fifty-fifty proposition."

"But what makes you so serious?"

"Was I?"

"I should say so! You haven't told me one funny thing that Mr.

Damon has said lately."

"Oh, haven't I? Well, let me see now," and he sent the machine

up a little. "Well, the other day he--"

Tom suddenly stopped speaking and began rapidly turning several

valve wheels and levers.

"What--what's the matter?" gasped Mary, but she did not clutch

his arm. She knew better than that.

"The motor has stopped," Tom answered, and the girl became

aware of a cessation of the subdued hum.

"Is it--does it mean danger?" she asked.

"Not necessarily so," Tom replied. "It means we have to make a

forced landing, that's all. Sit tight! We're going down rather

faster than usual, Mary, but we'll come out of it all right!"'

CHAPTER VIII

STRANGE TALK

There was a rapid and sudden drop. Mary, sitting beside Tom

Swift in the speedy aeroplane, watched with fascinated eyes as he

quickly juggled with levers and tried different valve wheels. The

girl, through her goggles, had a vision of a landscape shooting

past with the speed of light. She glimpsed a brook, and, almost

instantly, they had skimmed over it.

A jar, a nerve-racking tilt to one side, the creaking of wood

and the rattle of metal, a careening, and then the machine came

to a stop, not exactly on a level keel, but at least right side

up, in the midst of a wide field.

Tom shut off the gas, cut his spark, and, raising his goggles,

looked down at Mary at his side.

"Scared?" he asked, smiling.

"I was," she frankly admitted. "Is anything broken, Tom?"

"I hope not," answered the young inventor. "At least if it is,

the damage is on the under part. Nothing visible up here. But let

me help you out. Looks as if we'd have to run for it."

"Run?" repeated Mary, while proving that she did not exactly

need help, for she was getting out of her seat unaided. "Why? Is

it going to catch fire?"

"No. But it's going to rain soon--and hard, too, if I'm any

judge," Tom said. "I don't believe I'll take a chance trying to

get the machine going again. We'll make for that farmhouse and

stay there until after the storm. Looks as if we could get

shelter there, and perhaps a bit to eat. I'm beginning to feel

hungry."

"It is going to rain!" decided Mary, as Tom helped her down

over the side of the fusilage. "It's good we are so near

shelter."

Tom did not answer. He was making a hasty but accurate

observation of the state of his aeroplane. The landing wheels had

stood the shock well, and nothing appeared to be broken.

"We came down rather harder than I wanted to," remarked Tom, as

he crawled out after his inspection of the machine. "Though I've

made worse forced landings than that."

"What caused it?" asked Mary, glancing up at the clouds, which

were getting blacker and blacker, and from which, now and then,

vivid flashes of lightning came while low mutterings of thunder

rolled nearer and nearer. "Something seemed to be wrong with the

carburetor," Tom answered. "I won't try to monkey with it now.

Let's hike for that farmhouse. We'll be lucky if we don't get

drenched. Are you sure you're all right, Mary?"

"Certainly, Tom. I can stand a worse shaking up than that. And

you needn't think I can't run, either!"

She proved this by hastening along at Tom's side. And there was

need of haste, for soon after they left the stranded aeroplane

the big drops began to pelt down, and they reached the house just

as the deluge came.

"I don't know this place, do you, Tom?" asked Mary, as they ran

in through a gateway in a fence that surrounded the property. A

path seemed to lead all around the old, rambling house, and there

was a porch with a side entrance door. This, being nearer, had

been picked out by the young inventor and his friend.

"No, I don't remember being here before," Tom answered. "But

I've passed the place often enough with Ned and Mr. Damon. I

guess they won't refuse to let us sit on the porch, and they may

be induced to give us a glass of milk and some sandwiches--that

is, sell them to us."

He and Mary, a little breathless from their run, hastened up on

the porch, slightly wet from the sudden outburst of rain. As Tom

knocked on the door there came a clap of thunder, following a

burst of lightning, that caused Mary to put her hands over her

ears.

"Guess they didn't hear that," observed Tom, as the echoes of

the blast died away. "I mean my knock. The thunder drowned it.

I'll try again."

He took advantage of a lull in the thundering reverberations,

and tapped smartly. The door was almost at once opened by an aged

woman, who stared in some amazement at the young people. Then she

said:

"Guests must go to the front door."

"Guests!" exclaimed Tom. "We aren't exactly guests. Of course

we'd like to be considered in that light. But we've had an

accident--my aeroplane stopped and we'd like to stay here out of

the storm, and perhaps get something to eat."

"That can be arranged--yes," said the old woman, who spoke with

a foreign accent. "But you must go to the front door. This is the

servant's entrance."

Mary was just thinking that they used considerable formality

for casual wayfarers, when the situation dawned on Tom Swift.

"Is this a restaurant--an inn?" he asked.

"Yes," answered the old woman. "It is Meadow Inn. Please go to

the front door."

"All right," Tom agreed good-naturedly. "I'm glad we struck the

place, anyhow."

The porch extended around three sides of the old, rambling

house. Proceeding along the sheltered piazza, Tom and Mary soon

found themselves at the front door. There the nature of the place

was at once made plain, for on a board was lettered the words

"Meadow Inn."

"I see what has happened," Tom remarked, as he opened the old-

fashioned ground glass door and ushered Mary in. "Some one has

taken the old farmhouse and made it into a roadhouse--a wayside

inn. I shouldn't think such a place would pay out here; but I'm

mighty glad we struck it."

"Yes, indeed," agreed Mary.

The old farmhouse, one of the best of its day, had been

transformed into a roadhouse of the better class. On either side

of the entrance hall were dining rooms, in which were set small

tables, spread with snowy cloths.

"In here, sir, if you please," said a white-aproned waiter,

gliding forward to take Tom's leather coat and Mary's jacket of

like material. The waiter ushered them into a room, in which at

first there seemed to be no other diners. Then, from behind a

screen which was pulled around a table in one corner, came the

murmur of voices and the clatter of cutlery on china, which told

of some one at a meal there.

"Somebody is fond of seclusion," thought Tom, as he and Mary

took their places. And as he glanced over the bill of fare his

ears caught the murmur of the voices of two men coming from

behind the screen. One voice was low and rumbling, the other

high-pitched and querulous.

"Talking business, probably," mused Tom. "What do you feel like

eating?" he asked Mary.

"I wasn't very hungry until I came in," she answered, with a

smile. "But it is so cozy and quaint here, and so clean and neat,

that it really gives one an appetite. Isn't it a delightful

place, Tom? Did you know it was here?"

"It is very nice. And as this is the first I have been here for

a long while I didn't know, any more than you, that it had been

made into a roadhouse. But what shall I order for you?"

"I should think you would have had enough experience by this

time," laughed Mary, for it was not the first occasion that she

and Tom had dined out.

Thereupon he gave her order and his own, too, and they were

soon eating heartily of food that was in keeping with the

appearance of the place.

"I must bring Ned and Mr. Damon here," said Tom. "They'll

appreciate the quaintness of this inn," for many of the quaint

appointments of the old farmhouse had been retained, making it a

charming resort for a meal.

"Mr. Damon will like it," said Mary. "Especially the big

fireplace," and she pointed to one on which burned a blaze of

hickory wood. "He'll bless everything he sees."

"And cause the waiter to look at me as though I had brought in

an escaped inmate from some sanitarium," laughed Tom. "No use

talking, Mr. Damon is delightfully queer! Now what do you want

for dessert?"

"Let me see the card," begged Mary. "I fancy some French

pastry, if they have it."

Tom gazed idly but approvingly about as she scanned the list.

The sound of the rumbling and the higher-pitched voices had gone

on throughout the entire meal, and now, as comparative silence

filled the room, the clatter of knives and forks having ceased,

Tom heard more clearly what was being said behind the screen.

"Well, I tell you what it is," said the man whom Tom mentally

dubbed Mr. High. "We got out of that blaze mighty luckily!"

"Yes," agreed he of the rumbly voice, whom Tom thought of as

Mr. Low, "it was a close shave. If it hadn't been for his

chemicals, though, there would have been a cleaner sweep."

"Indeed there would! I never knew that any of them could act as

fire extinguishers."

Tom seemed to stiffen at this, and his hearing became more

acute.

"They aren't really fire extinguishers in the real sense of the

word," went on the other man behind the screen. "It must have

been some accidental combination of them. But in spite of that we

put it all over Josephus Baxter in that fire!"

"What's this? What's this?" thought Tom, shooting a glance at

Mary and noting that apparently she had not heard what was said.

"What strange talk is this?"

CHAPTER IX

SUSPICIONS

"What's that?" exclaimed Mary Nestor, giving such a start as

she sat opposite Tom at the restaurant table that she dropped the

bill of fare she had been looking over.

A crash had resounded through the room, but it spoke well for

the state of Tom's nerves that he gave no indication that he had

heard the noise. It was caused by a waiter when he dropped a

plate, which was smashed into pieces on the floor. The noise was

startling enough to excuse Mary for jumping in her chair, and it

seemed to put an end to the strange talk of "Mr. High" and "Mr.

Low" back of the screen, for after the crash of china only

indistinct murmurs came from there. But Tom Swift did not cease

to wonder at the import of the talk about chemicals, fire, and

the mention of the name of Josephus Baxter.

"I think I'll try some of those Murolloas, as they call them,

Tom," announced Mary, having made her selection of the pastry.

"And may I have another cup of tea?"

"Two if you like," answered the young inventor. "They say tea

is good for the nerves, and you seem to need something, judging

by the way you jumped when that plate fell."

"Oh, Tom, that isn't fair! After the way we had to come down in

your 'plane!" objected Mary.

"That's right!" he conceded. "I forgot about that. My fault,

entirely!"

Mary smiled, and seemed to have regained her composure. Tom

glanced at her anxiously, not because of what he thought might be

the state of her nerves, but to see if she had sensed anything

the two men behind the screen had said. But the girl gave no

indication that her mind had been occupied with anything more

than the selection of her dessert.

"I wonder who they are, and what they meant by that talk,"

mused Tom, as the waiter served the Murolloas to him and Mary.

"Poor Baxter! It looks as if he might have more enemies than the

fireworks men he accuses of having taken his valuable formulae. I

must see him soon, and have a talk with him. Yes, I must make a

special point to see Josephus Baxter. But first I'd like to have

a glimpse of these men.

Tom's wish in this respect was soon gratified, for before he

and Mary had finished their pastry and tea there was a scraping

of chairs back of the sheltering screen, and the two men, "Mr.

Low" and "Mr. High," who had finished their meal, came forth.

Tom's judgment as to the statures of the men, based on the

quality of their voices, was not exactly borne out. For it was

the big man who had the high pitched, squeaky voice, and the

little man who had the deep, rumbling tones.

They passed out, without more than a glance at Tom and his

companion, but the young inventor peered at them sharply. As far

as he could tell he had seen neither of them before, though he

had an idea of their identity.

Tom took the chance to make certain this conjecture when Mary

left her seat, announcing that she was going to the ladies'

parlor to arrange her hair, which the run to escape from the rain

had disarranged.

"Some storm," Tom observed to the waiter, who came up when the

young inventor indicated that he wanted his check.

"Yes, sir, it came suddenly. Hope you didn't have to change a

tire in it, sir."

"No, my machine isn't that kind," replied Tom, as he handed out

a generous tip. "If I need a new tire I generally need a whole

new outfit."

"Oh, then--" Obviously the man was puzzled.

"We came in an aeroplane," Tom explained. "But we had to make a

forced landing. Is there a garage near here? I may need some help

getting started."

"We accommodate a few cars in what was once the barn, and we

have a good mechanic, sir. If you'd like to see him--"

"I would," interrupted Tom. "Tell the young lady to wait here

for me. I'll see if I can get the Scud to work. If not, I'll have

to telephone to town for a taxi. Did those men who just left come

in a car?" and he nodded in the direction taken by the two who

had dined behind the screen.

"Yes, sir. And they had engine trouble, I believe. Our man

fixed up their machine."

"Then he's the chap I want to see," thought Tom. "I'll have a

talk with him." He reasoned that he could get more about the

identity of the two mysterious men from the mechanic than from

the waiter. Nor was he wrong in this surmise.

"Oh, them two fellers!" exclaimed the mechanician, after he had

agreed to go with Tom to where the airship Scud was stalled.

"They come from over Shopton way. They own a fireworks factory--

or they did, before it burned."

"Are they Field and Melling?" asked Tom, trying not to let any

excitement betray itself in his voice.

"That's the names they gave me," said the man. "Little man's

Field. He gave me his card. I'm going to get a job overhauling

his car. There isn't enough work here to keep a man busy, and I

told 'em I could do a little on the outside. This place just

started, and not many folks know about it yet."

"So I judge," Tom said. "Well, I'll be glad to have you give me

a hand. I fancy the carburetor is out of order."

And this, when the young inventor and the mechanician from

Meadow Inn reached the stranded Scud, was found to be the case.

The storm had passed, and Mary told Tom she would not mind

waiting at the Inn until he found whether or not he could get his

air craft in working order.

"There you are! That's the trouble!" exclaimed the mechanician,

as he took something out of the carburetor. "A bit of rubber

washer choked the needle valve."

"Glad you found it," said Tom heartily. "Now I guess we can

ride back."

While preparations were being made to test the Scud after the

carburetor had been reassembled, Tom's mind was busy with many

thoughts, and chief among them were suspicions concerning Field

and Melling.

"If their talk meant anything at all," reasoned the young

inventor, "it meant that there was some deal in which Josephus

Baxter got the worst of it. 'Putting it over on him in the fire,'

could only mean that. Of course it isn't any of my business, in a

way, but I don't think it is right to stand by and see a fellow

inventor defrauded.

"Of course," mused Tom, while his helper put the finishing

touches to the carburetor, "it may have been a business deal in

which one took as many chances as the other. There are always two

sides to every story. Baxter says they took his formulae, but he

may have taken something from them to make it even. The only

thing is that I'd trust Baxter sooner than I would those two

fellows, and he certainly had a narrow squeak at the fire.

"But I have my own troubles, I guess, trying to perfect that

fire-fighting chemical, and I haven't much time to bother with

Field and Melling, unless they come my way."

"There, I reckon she'll work," said the mechanician, as he

fastened the last valve in the carburetor. "It was an easier job

than I expected. Wasn't as much trouble as I had over their car

those two fellers you were speaking of--Field and Melling.

They're rich guys!"

"Yes?" replied Tom, questioningly.

"Sure! They've started a big dye company."

"A dye company?" repeated the young inventor, all his

suspicions coming back as he recalled that Baxter had said his

formulae were more valuable for dyes than for fireworks.

"Yes, they're trying to get the business that used to go to the

Germans before the war," went on the man.

"Yes, the Germans used to have a monopoly of the dye industry,"

said Tom, hoping the man would talk on. He need not have worried.

He was of the talkative type.

"Well, if these fellers have their way they'll make a million

in dyes," proceeded the mechanician, as he stepped down out of

the airship. "They've built a big plant, and they have offices in

the Landmark Building."

"Where's that?" asked Tom.

"Over in Newmarket," the man went on, naming the nearest large

city to Shopton. "The Landmark Building is a regular New York

skyscraper. Haven't you seen it?"

"No," Tom answered, "I haven't. Been too busy, I guess. So

Field and Melling have their offices there?"

"Yes, and a big plant on the outskirts for making dyes. They

half offered me a job at the factory, but I thought I'd try this

out first; I like it here."

"It is a nice place," agreed Tom. "Well, now let's see if

she'll work," and he nodded at the Scud.

It needed but a short test to demonstrate this and soon Tom

went back to the Inn for Mary.

"Are you sure we shall not have to make an. other forced

landing?" she asked with a smile, a she took her place in the

cockpit.

"You can't guarantee anything about an aeroplane," said Tom.

"But everything is in our favor, and if we do have to come down I

have a better landing field than this." He glanced over the

meadow near the wayside inn.

"I suppose I'll have to take a chance," said Mary.

However, neither of them need have worried, for the Scud tried,

evidently, to redeem herself, and flew back to Shopton without a

hitch. After making sure that his engine was running smoothly,

Tom found his mind more at ease, and again he caught himself

casting about to find some basis for his suspicious thoughts

regarding the two men who had talked behind the screen.

"What is their game?" Tom found himself asking himself over and

over again. "What did they 'put over' on poor Baxter?"

Tom had a chance to find out more about this, or at least start

on the trail sooner than he expected. For when he landed he saw

Koku, the giant, coming toward him with an appearance of

excitement.

"Is Rad worse? Is there more trouble with his eyes?" asked the

young inventor.

"No, him not much too bad," answered Koku. "I keep him good as

I can. He sleep now, so I come out to swallow some fresh air. But

man come to see you--much mad man."

"Mad?" queried Tom.

"Well, what you say--angry," went on Koku. "Man what was in

Roman Skycracker blaze."

"Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter, who was in the fireworks blaze,"

translated Tom. "Where is he, and what's the matter?"

CHAPTER X

ANOTHER ATTEMPT

Koku managed to make Tom understand that the dye inventor was

in the main office of the Swift plant talking to Tom's father.

The young inventor sent Mary home in his electric runabout in

company with Ned Newton, who, fortunately, happened along just

then, and hurried to his office.

"Oh, Tom, I'm glad you have arrived," said his father. "You

remember Mr. Baxter, of course."

"I should hope so," Tom answered, extending his hand. He

noticed that the man whom he had helped save from the fireworks

blaze was under the stress of some excitement.

"I hope he hasn't been getting on dad's nerves," thought Tom,

as he took a seat. The elder Mr. Swift had been quite ill, and it

was thought for a time that he would have to give up helping Tom.

But there had been a turn for the better, and the aged inventor

had again taken his place in the laboratory, though he was frail.

"What's the trouble now?" asked Tom. "At least I assume there

has been some trouble," he went on. "If I am wrong--"

"No, you are right, unfortunately," said Mr. Baxter gloomily.

"The trouble is that everything I do is a failure. Up to a little

while ago I thought I might succeed, in spite of Field and

Melling's theft of the formulae from me. I made a purple dye the

other day, and tested it today. It was a miserable failure, and

it got on my nerves. I came to see if you could help me."

"In what way?" asked Tom, wondering whether or not he had best

tell Mr. Baxter what he had overheard at the Inn.

"Well, I need better laboratory facilities," the man went on.

"I know you have been very kind to me, Mr. Swift, and it seems

like an imposition to ask for more. But I need a different lot of

chemicals, and they cost money. I also need some different

apparatus. You have it in your big laboratory. That wouldn't cost

you anything. But of course to go out and buy what I need--"

"Oh I guess we can stand that, can't we, Dad?" asked Tom, with

a genial smile. "You may have free access to our big laboratory,

Mr. Baxter, and I'll see that you get what chemicals you need."

"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed the inventor. "Now I believe I shall

succeed in spite of those rascals. Just think, Mr. Swift! They

have started a big new dye factory."

"So I have heard," replied Tom.

"And I'm almost sure they're using the secret formulae they

stole from me!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter. "But I'll get the best of

them yet! I'll invent a better dye than they ever can, even if

they use the secrets the old Frenchman gave me. All I need is a

better place to work and all the chemicals at my disposal."

"Then we'll try to help you," offered Tom.

"And if I can do anything let me know," put in Mr. Swift. "I

shall be glad to get in the harness again, Tom!" he added.

"Well, if you're so anxious to work, Dad, why not give me a

hand with my fire extinguisher chemical?" asked Tom. "I haven't

been able to hit on the solution, somehow or other."

"Perhaps I may be able to give you a hint or two after I get

settled down," suggested Mr. Baxter.

"I shall be glad of any assistance you can give," replied Tom

Swift. "And now I'm going to start right in. Dad, you can make

the arrangements for Mr. Baxter to use our big laboratory. And

let him have credit for any chemicals he needs. Have them put on

my bill, for I am buying a lot myself."

"I'll never forget this," said Mr. Baxter, and there were tears

in his eyes as he shook hands with Tom, who tried to make light

of his generous act.

Tom, after the wrecking of his laboratory, in which accident

poor Eradicate was injured, had built himself another--two

others, in fact, after having shared Mr. Baxter's temporary one

for a time. Tom put up the most completely equipped laboratory

that could be devised, and he also erected a smaller one for his

own personal use, the main one being at the disposal of his

father and the various heads of the different departments of the

Shopton plant.

The little conference broke up, and Tom was on his way to his

own special private laboratory when there came the sound of some

excitement in the corridor outside and Mr. Damon burst in.

"Bless my accident policy, Tom! what's this I hear?" he asked,

all in a fluster.

"I'm sure I don't know," answered the young inventor, with a

smile. "What about?"

"About you and Mary Nestor being killed!" burst out Mr. Damon.

"I heard you fell in the aeroplane and were both dashed to

pieces!"

"If you can believe the evidence of your own eyes, I'm far from

being in that state," laughed Tom. "And as for Mary, she just

left here with Ned Newton."

"Thank goodness!" sighed Mr. Damon, sinking into a chair.

"Bless my elevator! I rushed over as soon as I heard the news,

and I was almost afraid to come in. I'm so glad it didn't

happen!"

"No gladder than I," said Tom. "We had to make a forced

landing, that was all," and he made as light of the incident as

possible when he saw the look of terror in his father's eyes.

"Some people in Waterford saw you going down," went on Mr.

Damon, "and they told me."

"It was a false alarm," replied Tom. "And now, Mr. Damon, if

you want to smell some perfumes come with me."

"Are you going into that line, Tom?" asked the eccentric man.

"Bless my handkerchief, my wife will be glad of that!"

"I mean I'm going to experiment some more with fire-

extinguishing chemicals," laughed the young inventor. "If you

want to--"

"Bless my gas mask, I should say not!" cried Mr. Damon. "I

don't see how you stand those odors, Tom Swift."

"Guess I'm used to 'em," was the answer. And then, leaving his

father to entertain Mr. Damon and to make arrangements for Mr.

Baxter's use of the main laboratory, he betook himself to his own

private quarters.

The next week or so was a busy time for Tom; so busy, in fact,

that he had little chance to see Mr. Baxter. All he knew was that

the unfortunate man was also laboring in his own line, and Tom

wished him success. He knew that if the man made any discoveries

that would help with the fire-extinguishing fluid he would

report, as he had promised.

"Well, Tom, how goes it?" asked Ned one day when he came over

to call on his chum. "Are you ready to accept contracts for

putting out skyscraper blazes in all big cities?"

"Not yet," was the answer. "But I'm going to make another

attempt, Ned."

"You mean another experiment?"

"Yes, I have evolved a new combination of chemicals, using

something of the carbonate idea as a basis. I found that I

couldn't get away from that, much as I wanted to. But my

application is entirely new, at least I hope it will prove so."

"When are you going to try it?" asked Ned.

"Right away. All I have to do is to put the chemicals in the

metal tank."

"Then I'd better get my leather suit on," remarked Ned,

starting to take off his street coat. Tom kept for his chum a

full outfit of flying garments, one suit being electrically

heated.

"Oh, we aren't going up in any airship," Tom said.

"Why, I thought you were going to test your aerial fire

fighting dingus!" exclaimed Ned.

"So I am. But I want to stay on the ground and watch the effect

on the blaze as the tank bursts and scatters the chemical fluid."

"Then you want me, and perhaps Mr. Damon to take the stuff up

in the machine? Excuse me. I don't believe I care to run an

airship myself."

"No," went on Tom, "there isn't any question of an airship this

time. No one is going up. Come on out into the yard and I'll show

you."

Ned Newton followed his chum out into the big yard near one of

the shops. Erected in it, and evidently a new structure, was a

large wooden scaffold in square tower shape with a long

overhanging arm and a platform on the extremity. Beneath it was a

pit dug in the earth, and in this pit, which was directly under

the outstanding arm of the tower, was a pile of wood and

shavings, oil-soaked.

"Oh, I see the game," remarked Ned. "You're going to drop the

stuff from this height instead of doing it from an airship."

"Yes," Tom answered. "There will be time enough to go on with

the airship end of it after I get the right combination of

chemicals. And by having a metal container with the stuff in

dropped from this frame work, I can station myself as near the

burning pit as I can get and watch what happens."

"It's a good idea," decided Ned. "I wonder you didn't try that

before."

"Mr. Baxter suggested it," replied Tom. "That helpful idea more

than pays me for what I have done for him. So now, if you're

ready, I'd like to have you watch with me and make some notes,

one of us on one side of the pit, and one on the other. There are

always two sides to a fire, the leeward and the windward, and I

want to see how my chemicals act in both positions."

"I'm with you," said Ned. "Who's going to drop the stuff--

Koku?"

"No, he is a bit too heavy for the framework, which I had put

up in a hurry. I'd have Rad do it, but he's out of the game."

"Poor old Rad!" murmured Ned. "Do you think he'll ever get

better, Tom?"

"I don't know," sighed the young inventor. "All I can do is to

hope. He is very patient, and Koku is devoted to him. All their

little bickerings and squabbles seem to have been forgotten."

Tom called some of his workmen, some of them to start the blaze

of inflammable material in the pit, while one climbed up to the

top of the tower of scantlings and made his way out on the

extended arm, where there was a little platform for him to stand

until it was time to drop the chemicals.

"Light her up!" cried Tom Swift, and a match was thrown in

among the oiled wood. In an instant a fierce blaze shot up, as

hot, in proportion, as would come from any burning building.

For the second time Tom was about to make a test on a fairly

large scale of his experimental extinguisher mixture.

"All ready up there?" he called to his helper perched high in

the air.

"All ready!" came back the answer above the roar and crackle of

the flames that made Tom and Ned step back.

Would success or failure attend the young inventor's project?

CHAPTER XI

THE BLAZING TREE

Tom Swift hesitated a moment before giving the final word that

would send the metal container of powerful chemicals down into

the midst of the crackling flames. He wanted to make sure, in his

own mind, that he had done everything possible to insure the

success of his undertaking. The young inventor never attempted

the solution of any problem without going into it with his whole

energy. So he wanted this experiment to succeed.

He quickly reviewed, mentally, the composition of the chemical

compound. He had made it as strong as possible, and he had spared

no pains to insure a hot fire, so that the test would not be too

simple.

"What's the matter, Tom?" asked Ned, as his chum appeared to

hesitate about giving the word that would send the chemicals

hurtling down into the fire.

"Nothing. I was just making sure I hadn't forgotten anything,"

Tom answered. "I guess I haven't."

He paused a moment, looked up at his assistant on the

overhanging arm of the tower, glanced down at the flames, now at

their height, and then suddenly cried:

"Let her go!"

"Right!" came back the man's voice, and then a dark object,

like a bomb, was seen descending from the skeleton framework

above the flames.

There was a scattering of the fire in the pit as the

extinguisher bomb fell among the blazing embers. Then followed a

slight explosion when the bomb broke, as it was intended it

should.

Tom and Ned leaned forward to peer through the pall of smoke

which swirled this way and that. Here was to come the real test

of the device. Would the fumes of the liberated chemicals choke

the fire, or would it burn on in spite of them? That was the

question to be settled for Tom Swift.

Almost immediately he had his answer. For after a fierce burst

of the tongues of fire following the fall of the bomb, there was

a distinct dying down of the conflagration in the pit. Great

clouds of smoke arose, but the fire was quenched in a great

measure, and as the fire-blanketing gas continued to be generated

from the chemicals liberated from the bomb, there was a further

dying down of the crackling fire.

"Tom, you've struck it!" yelled Ned in delight. "You have the

right combination this time!"

Tom did not answer. He leaned forward and looked eagerly down

into the pit. He was about to join with Ned in agreeing that he

had, indeed, solved the problem, when, to his surprise, the

flames started up again.

"What's this?" asked the young financial manager. Are you going

to have a second test, Tom?"

"Not that I know of," was the puzzled answer. "I don't exactly

understand this myself, Ned. By all calculations this fire ought

to have died a natural death, but now it is breaking out again. I

think what must have happened is that a quantity of the oil they

poured on collected in a pool and didn't get all the effects of

the chemicals from the bomb. Then the oil started to blaze."

"What can you do about it?" Ned wanted to know.

"Oh, I've got another bomb up there," and Tom pointed to his

helper who was still perched on the overhanging arm. "I was

prepared for some such emergency as this. Drop the other one!"

Tom yelled, and again a dark object fell. bursting in the pit and

again liberating the gas that was supposed to choke any fire.

The flames that had started up for the second time instantly

died down, and Ned, leaning over the edge of the pit, cried:

"Hurray, Tom! That does the business!" But the young inventor

shook his head. "I'm not quite satisfied," he remarked. "It

didn't work quickly enough. What I want is a chemical combination

that will choke the fire off first shot."

"Well, you pretty nearly have it," observed Ned.

"Yes. But 'good enough' isn't what I want," Tom said. "I've got

to work on that chemical compound again. I think I know where I

can improve it."

"Well, if I were a fire, and I had this happen to me," remarked

Ned, laughing and pointing to the heap of blackened embers in the

pit, "I should feel very much discouraged."

"But not enough," declared Tom. "I want the fire to be out more

quickly than this one was. I think I can improve that chemical

compound, and I'm going to do it."

"All right! Come on down!" he called to his helper, who was

still perched on the overhanging arm. "We won't do any more

today."

"What is your next move?" asked Ned, as Tom started for his

small, private laboratory.

"Oh, I'm going to fiddle around among those sweet-smelling

chemicals," answered the young inventor.

"Bless my vest buttons! then I'm not coming in, exclaimed a

voice which could proceed from none other than Mr. Damon. And he

it proved to be. He had driven over from Waterford in his

automobile and had arrived just as the fire test was concluded.

"Oh, come on in!" called Tom. "You can visit with dad, and

Eradicate will be glad to see you."

"Poor Rad! How is he?" asked Mr. Damon, walking along with Tom

and Ned.

"No change," was the sad answer of the young inventor, for he

felt responsible for the mishap to the colored man. "They can't

operate on his eyes yet."

"And when they do will he be able to see?" asked Mr. Damon.

"That is what we are all hoping," answered Tom with a sigh.

"But do go in to see him, Mr. Damon. It will cheer him up."

"I will," promised the eccentric man. "At any rate I'll not

venture near your perfume shop, Tom Swift!"

"And I don't see that I can be of any service," added Ned, "so

I'm off to my work."

"All right," assented Tom. "I've got several new schemes to

try. Some of them ought to work."

Tom Swift was very busy for the next few days--so busy, in

fact, that even Mary saw little of him. He was closeted with Mr.

Baxter more than once, and that individual seemed to lose some of

his bitter feelings over the loss of his formulae as he found he

could be of service to the young inventor. For he was of service

in suggesting new ways of combining fire-fighting chemicals,

gained by his association with the fireworks concern.

"And that's about all the benefit I derived from being with

those scoundrels, Field and Melling," said Mr. Baxter gloomily.

"You still think they took your dye formulae?'~ asked Tom.

"I'm positive of it, but I can't prove anything. They

threatened to get the best of me when I would not sell them, for

a ridiculously low sum, an interest in the secrets. And I believe

they did get the best of me during that fire."

"I believe the same!" exclaimed Tom.

"How is that? What do you know? Can you help me prove anything

against them?" eagerly asked the chemist.

"Well, I don't know," answered Tom slowly. "I'll tell you what

I heard."

Thereupon he related the conversation he had overheard while

with Mary at the wayside inn. The eyes of Josephus Baxter gleamed

as he listened to this recital.

"So that was their game!" he cried, as he smote the table with

his fist, thereby nearly upsetting a test tube of acid, which Tom

caught just in time. "I knew something crooked was going on, and

they thought I'd be so badly overcome in the fire that I wouldn't

know, or wouldn't remember, what happened."

"What did happen?" asked Tom. "All I know is that you were

overcome in the laboratory room."

"It's too long a story to tell in detail now," said Mr. Baxter.

"But the main facts are that through misrepresentations I was

induced to associate myself with Field and Melling. They had a

good factory for the making of fireworks, and some of the

chemicals used in that industry also enter into the manufacture

of the kind of dyes I have in mind to make. So I associated

myself with them, they agreeing to let me use their laboratory.

"One night they came to see me as I was working there over my

formulae. They pretended to have discovered something in an

expired patent that nullified what I had. I did not believe this

to be so, and I brought out my formulae to compare with theirs--

or what they said they had. The next thing I remember was that

the fire broke out and my formulae disappeared. Then I was

overcome, and I did not care what happened to me, for, having

lost the valuable dye formulae, I did not think life worth living.

"Perhaps I was foolish," said Mr. Baxter, "but I had tried so

many things and failed, and I counted so much on these formulae

that it seemed as if the bottom dropped out of everything when I

lost them."

"I know," said Tom sympathetically. "I've been in the same boat

myself. But are you sure they took the papers which meant so much

to you?"

"I don't see who else could," answered the chemist. "The papers

were in a tin box on the table in the room where I was overcome

by fire gases, or where, perhaps, they drugged me. I am not clear

on this point. And afterward the tin box could not be found.

There wasn't enough fire in that room to have melted it."

"No," agreed Tom, "it was mostly smoke in there, and smoke

won't melt tin. Nor did I see any box on the table when we

carried you out."

"Then the only other surmise is that Field and Melling got away

with my formulae during the excitement and when I was half

unconscious," Went on Mr. Baxter bitterly. "But you can see how

foolish I would be to accuse them in court. I haven't a bit of

proof."

"Not much, for a fact," agreed Tom. "Well, with what I heard

and what you tell me, perhaps we can work up a case against them

later. I'll go over it with Ned. He has a better head for

business than I."

"Yes, we inventors need some business brains; or at least the

time to give to business problems," agreed the chemist. "But

enough of my troubles. Let's get at this chemical compound of

yours."

Tom and Mr. Baxter spent many days and nights perfecting the

fire-extinguisher chemical, and, after repeated tests, Tom felt

that he was nearer his goal.

One afternoon Ned called, and Tom invited him to go for a ride

in a small but speedy aeroplane.

"Anything special on?" asked the young manager.

"In a way, yes," Tom answered. "I'm having a firm in Newmarket

make me some different containers, and they have promised me

samples today. I thought I'd take a fly over and get them. I have

the chemical compound all but perfected now, and I want to give

it another test."

"All right, I'm with you," assented Ned. "Newmarket," he added

musingly. "Isn't that where Field and Melling are now?"

"Yes. They have a factory on the outskirts of the place, and

their offices are in the Landmark Building. But we aren't going

to see them, though we may call on them later, when you have that

case better worked up." For Ned's services had been enlisted to

aid Mr. Baxter.

"I shall need a little more time," remarked Ned. "But I think

we can at least bluff them into playing into our hands. I have a

report to hear from a private detective I have hired."

"I hope we can do something to aid Baxter," remarked Tom. "He

has done me good service in this chemical fire extinguisher

matter."

A little later Tom and Ned were speeding through the air on

their way to Newmarket. The rapid flier was making good time at

not a great height when Ned, leaning forward, appeared to be

gazing at something in the near distance.

"What's the matter?" asked Tom, for he had his silencer on this

craft and it was possible for the occupants to converse. "Do you

hear one of the cylinders missing, Ned?"

"No. But what's that smoke down there?" and Ned pointed. "It

looks like a fire!"

"It is a fire!" exclaimed Tom, as he took an observation. "Not

a big one, but a fire, just the same. If only--"

He did not finish what he started to say, but changed the

direction of his air craft and headed directly toward a pall of

smoke about a mile away.

In a few seconds they were near enough to make out the

character of the blaze.

"Look, Tom!" cried Ned. "It's an immense tree on fire!"

"A tree!" exclaimed Tom, half incredulously, for he was leaning

forward to look at one of the aeroplane gages and did not have a

clear view of what Ned was looking at.

"Yes, as sure as Mr. Damon would bless something if he were

here! It's a tree on fire up near the top!"

"That's strange!" murmured Tom. "But it may give me just the

chance I've been looking for."

Ned wondered at this remark on the part of his chum as the

airship drew nearer the blazing monarch in the patch of woods

over which they were then hovering.

CHAPTER XII

TOM IS LONESOME

"This is certainly the strangest sight I ever saw," remarked

Ned, as he and his chum flew nearer and nearer to the smoking and

blazing tree. "Is the world turning upside down, Tom, when fires

start in this fashion?"

"I fancy it can easily be explained," answered the young

inventor. "We'll go into that later. Here, Ned, grab hold of that

tin can on the floor and take out the screw plug."

"What's the idea?"

"I want you to drop it as nearly as you can right into the

midst of the tree that's on fire."

"Oh, I get your drift! Well, you can count on me."

Ned picked up from the floor of their aeroplane a metal can

similar to those Tom used to hold oil or perhaps spare gasoline

when he was experimenting on airship speed. The opening was

closed with a screw plug, with wings to afford an easier grip. As

Ned unscrewed this his nostrils were greeted by an odor that made

him gasp.

"Don't mind a little thing like that," cried Tom. "Drop it

down, Ned! Drop it down! We're going to be right over the tree in

another second or two!"

Ned leaned over the side of the craft and had a good view of

the strange sight. The tree that was on fire was a dead oak of

great size, dwarfing the other trees in the grove in which it

stood. In common with other oaks this one still retained many of

its dried leaves, though it was devoid, or almost devoid, of

life. Ned noticed in the branches many irregularly shaped

objects, and it appeared to be these that were on fire, blazing

fiercely.

"It looks as though some one had tied bundles of sticks in the

tree and set them on fire," Ned thought as he poised the opened

tin of the evil-smelling compound on the edge of the aeroplane's

cockpit.

"Let her go, Ned!" cried Tom. "You'll be too late in another

second!"

Ned raised himself in his seat and threw, rather than let fall,

the can straight for the blazing tree. Like a bomb it shot toward

earth, and Ned and Tom, looking down, could see it strike a limb

and break open, the rupture of the can letting loose the liquid

contained in it.

And then, before the eyes of Tom and Ned, the fire seemed to

die out as a picture melts away on a moving picture screen. The

smoke rolled away in a ball-like cloud, and the flames ceased to

crackle and roar.

"Well, for the love of molasses! what happened, Tom?" cried

Ned, as the young inventor guided his craft about in a big circle

to come back again over the tree. He wanted to make sure that the

fire was out.

It was!

"What sent that blaze to the happy hunting grounds?" asked Ned.

"My new aerial extinguisher," answered Tom, with justifiable

pride in his voice. "This fire happened in the nick of time for

me, Ned. I had a tin of my new combination in the car, not with

any intention of using it, though. I intended to pour it in the

new containers I am having made in Newmarket to see if it would

corrode them, a thing I wish to avoid.

"But when I saw that tree on fire I couldn't resist the

temptation to use my very latest combination of chemicals. It is

so recent that I haven't actually tried it on a blaze yet, though

I had figured out in theory that it ought to work. And it did,

Ned! It worked!"

"Well, I should say so!" agreed his chum. "That blaze was

doused for fair. The test could not have been better. But what in

the name of a volunteer fire department set that tree to blazing,

Tom?"

"I'll tell you in a moment. I want to make some notes before I

forget. That combination seems to be just of the right strength.

It did the trick. Here, take the wheel and hold her steady while

I jot down some memoranda before they get away from me."

Ned was capable of managing an airship, especially under Tom's

watchful eye, and as this craft was one with dual controls there

was no difficulty in shifting from one steersman to the other.

So while Ned guided, now and then gazing down at the tree from

which some smoke still arose, though the fire was all out, Tom

made the necessary scientific notes for future amplification.

"And now," observed Ned, as his chum resumed the wheel,

"suppose you enlighten me on how that tree came to be on fire--if

you didn't set it yourself."

"No, I didn't do that," Tom said, with a laugh. "And I only

have a theory as to the cause of the blaze. But suppose we go

down and take a look. There's a good field around this grove, and

we can get a fine take off. I'll have to go back to Shopton

anyhow, to get some more of the chemical."

So the aeroplane made a landing, and then the mystery was

explained. The dead oak, to which some of its last year's foliage

still clung, was the abiding place of thousands of crows that had

built their nests in it. There were hundreds of the big nests,

made of dried sticks, mostly, and these made an ideal fuel for

the fire.

"But where are the crows, and what started the fire?" asked

Ned.

"I fancy the birds flew away as soon as they saw their homes on

fire," said Tom. "Or they may not have been at home. Flocks of

crows often go to some distant feeding ground for the day,

returning at night. I fancy that is what happened here.

"As for the cause of the blaze, I believe it was set by some

mischievous boys, who saw a good chance to have some fun without

thought of doing any real damage. For the dead tree was of no

value, and I imagine the farmers would be glad to see the flock

of crows dispersed. Some boys probably climbed up and set fire to

one of the nests, and then, when they saw the whole lot going,

they became frightened and ran away."

And Tom's theory was, eventually, proved to be true. Some

lads, wandering afield, had set fire to the crows' nests and

then, frightened as they saw a bigger blaze than they intended,

ran away.

Tom and Ned did not remain to see what the returning crows

might think about the destruction of their homes, provided they

saw fit to return, but, starting the aeroplane, were again on

their way.

Tom had lingered long enough to make sure that his latest

combination of chemicals had been just what was needed. He felt

sure that by using a larger quantity, no fire, however fierce,

could continue to blaze.

"But I want to give it a good trial, Ned, as we did from the

tower," said Tom. "Though I don't believe there'll be a fizzle

this time."

It did not take long for Tom to secure another supply of the

new chemical. He then went with it to the firm in Newmarket that

was making his containers, or "bombs" as he called them.

On his return he consulted with Mr. Baxter as to the

ingredients of the fluid that had put out the blaze in the tree.

"I believe you have at last hit on the right combination," said

the chemist. "You are on the road to success, Tom. I wish I could

say the same of myself."

"Perhaps your formulae may come back to you as suddenly as they

disappeared, or as quickly as I discovered that I had the right

thing to put out the fire," said Tom hopefully.

Busy days followed for the young inventor. Now that he was

convinced he had at last evolved the right mixture of chemicals,

he prepared to make a test on a larger scale than merely a

blazing tree.

"I'll try it with a fire in the pit," he said to his chum.

Preparations were made, and the day before Tom was to carry out

his plans he received a letter.

"What's the matter? Bad news?" asked Ned, as he saw his

friend's face change after reading the epistle.

"Nothing much. Only Mary is going away, and I had expected her

to be at the test," Tom answered.

"Going away?" echoed Ned. For long?"

"Oh, no, only for a couple of weeks. She is going to visit an

uncle and aunt in Newmarket, or just outside of that city.

Another uncle, Barton Keith, has offices in the Landmark

Building, I believe."

"Landmark Building," murmured Ned. "Isn't that where Field and

Melling hang out?"

"Yes. But don't mention Mary's uncle in connection with them,"

laughed Tom. "He wouldn't like it."

"I should say not!"

Ned well remembered Mary's uncle, who had been associated with

Tom in recovering the treasure in the undersea search.

"Well, if she can't be here, she can't," said Tom, as

philosophically as possible. "I'd better run over and bid her

goodbye."

This Tom did, though Ned noticed that his chum acted as though

lonesome on his return.

"But when he gets to work testing his new chemical he'll be all

right," decided Ned.

CHAPTER XIII

A SUCCESSFUL TEST

"It took you long enough," Ned remarked as Tom entered the main

office of the plant, having been to see Mary off on her trip to

Newmarket. This was following his call of the night before to

learn more particulars of her unexpected visit.

"Yes, I didn't plan to be gone so long," apologized Tom. "But I

thought while I was there I might as well go all the way with

her."

"And did you?"

"Yes. In the electric runabout. I wanted to come back and get

the airship, but she said she wanted to look nice when she met

her relatives, and as yet airship travel is a bit mussy. Though

when I get my cabined cruiser of the clouds I'll guarantee not to

ruffle a curl of the daintiest girl!"

"Getting poetical in your old age!" laughed Ned. "Well, here

is that statement you said you wanted me to get ready. Want to go

over it now?"

"No, I guess not, as long as you know it's all right. I'm going

to start right in and get ready for a bang-up test."

"Of what--your new aerial fire fighting apparatus?"

"Yes. Mr. Baxter and I are going to make up a lot of the

chemical compound that--we discovered through using it on the

blazing tree--will best do the trick. Then I'm going to try it on

a pit fire, and after that on a big blaze with an airship."

"Let me know when you do," begged Ned. "I want to see you do

it."

"I'll send you word," promised the young inventor.

Then he began several days and nights of hard work. And he was

glad to have the chance to occupy himself, for, though Tom

professed not to be much affected by the departure of Mary

Nestor, he really was very lonesome.

"How is her uncle, Barton Keith, by the way?" asked Ned, when

he called on his chum one day, to find him reading a letter which

needed but half an eye to tell was from Mary.

"About as usual," was the answer. "He sends word by Mary that

he'll be glad to see us any time we want to call. He has some

nice offices in the Landmark Building."

"Those papers proving his right to the oil land, which you

recovered from the sunken ship for him, must have made his

fortune."

"Well, yes--that and other things," agreed Tom. "Say, we had

some exciting times on that undersea search, didn't we?"

"Did you call on Mr. Keith when you went to Newmarket with

Mary?" Ned wanted to know, for he and Tom had taken quite a

liking to Miss Nestor's uncle.

"No, I didn't get a chance. Besides, I wanted to keep away from

the Landmark Building."

"Why?"

"Oh, I might run into Field and Melling, and I don't want to

see them until I can accuse them, and prove it, of having taken

Mr. Baxter's dye formulae."

"Oh, yes, they're in the same building with Mr. Keith, aren't

they? Why do they call it the Landmark? Though I suppose the

answer is obvious."

"Yes," assented Tom. "It's a big building--the tallest ever

erected in that city, and a fine structure. Though while they

were about it I don't see why they didn't make it fireproof."

"Didn't they?" asked Ned, in surprise. "Then the insurance

rates must be unusually high, for the companies are beginning to

realize how fire departments, even in big cities, are hampered in

fighting blazes above the tenth or twelfth stories."

"Yes, it was a mistake not to have the Land mark Building

fireproof," admitted Tom. "And Mr. Keith says the owners are

beginning to realize that now. It is what is called the 'slow

burning' construction."

"Insurance companies don't go much on that," declared Ned, who

was in a position to know. "Well, let us hope it never catches

fire."

These were busy days for the young inventor. He laid aside all

his other activities in order to perfect the plans for

manufacturing his new chemical fire extinguisher on a large

scale. For Tom realized that while a small quantity of chemicals

in a compound might act in a certain way on one occasion, if the

bulk should happen to be increased the experimenter could not

always count on invariably the same results.

There appeared to be at times a change engendered when a large

quantity of chemicals were mixed which was not manifest in a

small and experimental batch.

So Tom wanted to mix up a big tank of his new chemical compound

and see if it would work in large quantities as well as it did

with the small amount Ned had dropped on the blazing tree.

To this end Tom worked at night, as well as by day, and finally

he announced to Ned and Mr. Damon, who called one evening, that

he believed he had everything in readiness for an exhaustive test

the next day.

"There's the stuff!" exclaimed Tom, not a little proudly, as he

waved his hand toward an immense carboy in the main shop. "That's

what I hope will do the trick. Just take a--"

"Hold on! Stop! That's enough! Bless my hair brush!" cried Mr.

Damon, holding up a protesting hand. "If you take that cork out,

Tom Swift, you and I will cease to be friends!"

"I wasn't going to open it," laughed the young inventor. "It

has a worse odor and seems to choke you more in a big quantity

than when there's only a little. I was just going to shake the

carboy to let you realize how full it was."

"We'll take your word for it!" laughed Ned. "Now about your

test. How are you going to work it?"

"There are to be two tests," answered Tom. "The first, and the

smaller, will be in the pit, as before, only this time we shall

have what, I believe, will be the successful combination of

chemicals to drop on it.

"The second test will be the main one. In that I plan to have

an old barn which I have bought set ablaze. Then Ned and I will

sail over it in the airship and drop chemicals on it. The barn

will be filled with empty boxes and barrels, to make as hot a

fire as possible. You are invited to accompany us, Mr. Damon."

"Will there be any smell?" asked the eccentric man, who seemed

to have a dislike for anything that was not as agreeable as

perfume.

"No, the chemicals will be sealed in containers, which will be

dropped from my airship as bombs were dropped in the war," said

Tom.

"On those conditions I'll go along," agreed Mr. Damon. "But

bless my wedding certificate, Tom! don't tell my wife. She thinks

I'm crazy enough now, associating with you and flying

occasionally. If she thought I would help you battle with flames

from the air she'd likely never speak to me again."

"I'll not tell," promised Tom, laughing.

Preparations for the test went on rapidly. In the morning a

fire was to be started in the same pit where the experiment had

partly failed before.

From the platform over the blazing hole some of the new

combination of chemicals was to be dropped. If it acted with

success, as Tom believed it would, he proposed to go on with the

more important test in the afternoon.

To this end he had purchased from a farmer the right to set on

fire an old ramshackle barn, standing in the midst of a field

about three miles outside of Shopton. The barn was on an untilled

farm, the house having been destroyed some years before, and it

was not near any other structures, so that, even in a high wind,

no damage would result.

Tom had filled the barn with inflammable material, and was

going to spare no effort to have the test as exhaustive as

possible.

The time came for the preliminary trial, and there were a few

anxious moments after the oil-soaked boards and boxes in the pit

were set ablaze.

"Let her go!" cried Tom to his man on the elevated platform,

and down fell the container of chemicals. It had no sooner struck

and burst, letting loose a mass of flame-choking vapor, than the

fire died out.

"You've struck it, Tom! You've struck it!" cried Ned.

"It begins to look so," agreed the young inventor. "But I'll

not call myself out of the woods until this afternoon. Though we

can consider it a success so far."

Quite a throng was on hand when the old barn was set ablaze.

Tom and Ned and Mr. Damon were there with the airship which had

been especially fitted to carry the bombs filled with the

extinguisher.

In order to insure a quick, hot blaze the barn was fired on all

four sides at once by Tom's men. When it was seen to be a

veritable raging furnace of fire, Tom and his two friends took

their places in the airship and rapidly mounted upward.

Necessarily they had to circle off away from the blaze to get

to the necessary height, but Tom soon brought the airship around

again and headed for the black pall of smoke which marked the

place of the blazing barn.

"We'll all three send down bombs at the same time," Tom told

his friends, as they darted forward. "When I give the word press

the levers, and the chemical containers will drop. Then we'll

hope for the best."

Higher mounted the flames, and more fiercely raged the fire.

The heat of it penetrated even aloft, where Tom and his friends

were scudding along in the airship.

"Now!" cried Tom, as his craft hovered for an instant in a

favorable position for dropping the bombs. The young inventor,

Mr. Damon, and Ned Newton pressed the levers. Looking over the

sides of the craft, they saw three dark objects dropping into the

midst of the burning barn.

CHAPTER XIV

OUT OF THE CLOUDS

Almost as though some giant hand had dropped an immense cloak

over the fire in the barn, so did the blaze die down instantly

after Tom Swift's extinguishing liquid had been dropped into the

seething caldron of flame. For a moment there was even no smoke,

but as the embers remained hot and glowing for a time, though the

flames themselves were quenched, a rolling vapor cloud began to

ascend shortly after the first cessation of the fire. But this

only lasted a little while.

"You've turned the trick, Tom!" cried Ned, leaning far over to

look at what was left of the barn and its contents.

"Bless my insurance policy, I should say so!" exclaimed Mr.

Damon. "It was certainly neat work, Tom!"

"It does look as if I'd struck the right combination," admitted

Tom, and he felt justifiable pride in his achievement.

"Look so! Why, hang it all, man, it is so!" declared Ned. "That

fire went out as if sent for by a special delivery telegram to

give a hurry-up performance in another locality. Look, there's

hardly any smoke even!"

This was so, as the three occupants of the rapidly moving

airship could see when Tom circled back to pass again over the

almost destroyed structure. He had waited until it was almost

consumed before dropping his chemicals, as he wished to make the

test hard and conclusive. Now the fire was out except for a few

small spots spouting up here and there, away from the center of

the blaze.

"Yes, I guess she doesn't need a second dose," observed Tom,

when he saw how effective had been his treatment of the fire. "I

had an additional batch of chemicals on hand, in case they were

needed," he added, and he tapped some unused bombs at his feet.

"I call this a pretty satisfactory test," declared Ned. "If you

want to form a stock company, Tom, and put your aerial fire-

fighting apparatus on the market, I'll guarantee to underwrite

the securities."

"Hardly that yet," said Tom, with a laugh. "Now that I have my

chemical combination perfected, or practically so, I've got to

rig up an airship that will be especially adapted for fighting

fires in sky-scrapers."

"What more do you want than this?" asked Ned, as his chum

prepared to descend in the speedy machine.

"I want a little better bomb-releasing device, for one thing.

This worked all right. But I want one that is more nearly

automatic. Then I am going to put on a searchlight, so I can see

where I am heading at night."

"Not your great big one!" cried Ned, recalling the immense

electric lantern that had so aided in capturing the Canadian

smugglers.

"No. But one patterned after that." Tom answered.

"Bless my candlestick!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, "what do you want

with a searchlight at a fire, Tom? Isn't there light enough at a

blaze, anyhow?"

"No," answered the young inventor, as he made his usual

skillful landing. "You know all the big city fire departments

have searchlights now for night work and where there is thick

smoke. It may be that some day, in fighting a sky-scraper blaze

from the clouds at night, I'll have need of more illumination

than comes from the flames themselves."

"Well, you ought to know. You've made a study of it," said Mr.

Damon, as he and Ned alighted with Tom, the latter receiving

congratulations from a number of his friends, including members

of the Shopton fire department who were present to witness the

test.

"Mighty clever piece of work, Tom Swift!" declared a deputy

chief. "Of course we won't have much use for any such apparatus

here in Shopton, as we haven't any big buildings. But in New

York, Chicago, Pittsburgh and other cities--why, it will be just

what they need, to my way of thinking."

"And he needn't go so far from home," said Mr. Damon. "There is

one tall building over in Newmarket--the Landmark. I happen to

own a little stock in the corporation that put that up, along

with other buildings, and I'm going to have them adopt Tom

Swift's aerial fire-fighting apparatus."

"Thank you. But you don't need to go to that trouble," asserted

Tom. "My idea isn't to have every sky-scraper equipped with an

airship extinguisher."

"No? What then?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Well, I think there ought to be one, or perhaps two, in a big

city like New York," Tom answered. "Perhaps one outfit would be

enough, for it isn't likely that there would be two big fires in

the tall building section at the same time, and an airship could

easily cover the distance between two widely separated blazes.

But if I can perfect this machine so it will be available for

fires out of the reach of apparatus on the ground, I'll be

satisfied."

"You'll do it, Tom, don't worry about that!" declared the

deputy chief. "I never saw a slicker piece of work than this!"

And that was the verdict of all who had witnessed the

performance.

With the successful completion of this exacting test and the

knowledge that he had perfected the major part of his aerial

fire-extinguisher--the chemical combination--Tom Swift was now

able to devote his attention to the "frills" as Ned called them.

That is, he could work out a scheme for attaching a searchlight

to his airship and make better arrangements for a one-man control

in releasing the chemical containers into the heart of a big

blaze.

Tom Swift owned several airships, and he finally selected one

of not too great size, but very powerful, that would hold three

and, if necessary, four persons. This was rebuilt to enable a

considerable quantity of the fire-extinguishing liquid to be

stored in the under part of the somewhat limited cockpit.

This much done, and while his men were making up a quantity of

the extinguisher, using the secret formula, and storing it in

suitable containers, Tom began attaching a searchlight to his

"cloud fire-engine," as Koku called it.

The giant was aching to be with Tom and help in the new work,

but Koku was faithful to the blinded Eradicate, and remained

almost constantly with the old colored man.

It was touching to see the two together, the giant trying, in

his kind, but imperfect way, to anticipate the wishes of the

other, with whom he had so often disputed and quarreled in days

past. Now all that was forgotten, and Koku gave up being with Tom

to wait on Eradicate.

While the colored man was, in fact, unable to see, following

the accident when Tom was experimenting with the fire

extinguisher, it was hoped that sight might be restored to one

eye after an operation. This operation had to be postponed until

the eyes and wounds in the face were sufficiently healed.

Meanwhile Rad suffered as patiently as possible, and Koku

shared his loneliness in the sick room. Tom came to see Rad as

often as he could, and did everything possible to make his aged

servant's lot happier. But Rad wanted to be up and about, and it

was pathetic to hear him ask about the little tasks he had been

wont to perform in the past.

Rad was delighted to hear of Tom's success with the new

apparatus, after having been told how quickly the barn fire was

put out.

"Yo'--yo' jest wait twell I gits up, Massa Tom," said Rad. "Den

Ah'll help make all de contraptions on de airship."

"All right, Rad, there'll be plenty for you to do when the time

comes," said the inventor. And he could not help a feeling of

sadness as he left the colored man's room.

"I wonder if he is doomed to be blind the rest of his life,"

thought Tom. "I hope not, for if he does it will be my fault for

letting him try to mix those chemicals."

But, hoping for the best, Tom plunged into the work ahead of

him. He did not want to offer his aerial fire extinguisher to any

large city until he had perfected it, and he was now laboring to

that end.

One day, in midsummer, after weary days of toil, Tom took Ned

out for a ride in the machine which had been fitted up to carry a

large supply of the chemical mixture, a small but powerful

searchlight, and other new "wrinkles" as Tom called them, not

going into details.

"Any special object in view?" asked Ned, as Tom headed across

country. "Are you going to put out any more tree fires?"

"No, I haven't that in mind," was the answer. "Though of course

if we come across a blaze, except a brush fire, I may put it out.

I have the bombs here," and Tom indicated the releasing lever.

"What I want to try now is the stability of this with all I

have on board," he resumed. "If she is able to travel along, and

behave as well as she did before I made the changes, I'll know

she is going to be all right. I don't expect to put out any fires

this trip."

In testing the ship of the air Tom sent her up to a good

height, heading out over the open country and toward a lake on

the shores of which were a number of summer resorts. It was now

the middle of the season, and many campers, cottagers and hotel

folk were scattered about the wooded shore of the pretty and

attractive body of water.

Tom and Ned had a glimpse of the lake, dotted with many motor

boats and other craft, as the airship ascended until it was above

the clouds. Then, for a time, nothing could be seen by the

occupants but masses of feathery vapor.

"She's working all right," decided Tom, when he found that he

could perform his usual aerial feats with his craft, laden as she

was with apparatus, as well as he had been able to do before she

was so burdened. "Guess we might as well go down, Ned. There

isn't much more to do, as far as I can see."

Down out of the heights they swept at a rapid pace. A few

moments later they had burst through the film of clouds and once

more the lake was below them in clear view.

Suddenly Ned pointed to something on the water and cried:

"Look, Tom! Look! A motor boat in some kind of trouble! She's

sinking!"

CHAPTER XV

COALS OF FIRE

Tom Swift saw the craft almost as soon as did his chum. It was

rather a large-sized motor boat, quite some distance out from

shore, and there was no other craft near it at this time. From

the quick, first view Tom and Ned had of it, they decided that a

party of excursionists were on a pleasure trip.

But that an accident had happened, and that trouble, if not,

indeed, danger, was imminent, was at once apparent to the young

inventor and the other occupant of the swiftly moving airship.

For as Tom shut off his motor, to volplane down, thus reducing

all noise on his craft, they could dimly hear the shouts and

calls for help, coming from the water craft below them.

"Help! Help!" came the impassioned appeals, floating up to Tom

and Ned.

"We're coming!" Tom answered, though it is doubtful if his

voice was heard. Sound does not seem to carry downward as well as

upward, and though Tom's craft was making scarcely any noise,

save that caused by the rush of wind through the struts and

wires, there was so much confusion on the motor boat, to say

nothing of the engine which was going, that Tom's encouraging

call must have been unheard.

"What are you going to do, Tom?" asked Ned, "You can't land on

the water!"

"I know it; worse luck! If I only had the hydroplane, now, we

could make a thrilling rescue--land right beside the other boat

and take 'em all off. But, as it is, I'll have to land as near as

I can and then we will look for a boat to go out to them in."

Ned saw, now, what Tom's object was. On one shore of the lake

was a large, level field, suitable for a landing place for the

craft of the air. At least it looked to be a suitable place, but

Tom would be obliged to take a chance on that. This field sloped

down to the beach of the lake, and as Ned and his chum came

nearer to earth they could see several boats on shore, though no

persons were near them. Had there been, probably they would have

gone to the rescue.

Tom cast a rapid look across the sheet of water, to make sure

his services were really needed. The motor boat was lower in the

lake now, and was, undoubtedly, sinking. And no other craft was

near enough to render help. Though distant whistles, seeming to

come from approaching craft, told of help on the way.

"Hold fast, Ned!" cried Tom, as they neared the earth. "We may

bump!"

But Tom Swift was too skillful a pilot to cause his craft to

sustain much of a crash. He made an almost perfect "three point

landing," and there would have been no unusual shaking, except

for the fact that the field was a bit bumpy, and the craft more

heavily laden than usual.

"Good work, Tom!" cried Ned, as the Lucifer slackened her

speed, the young inventor having sent her around in a half circle

so that she now faced the lake. Then Tom and Ned climbed from the

cockpit, throwing off goggles and helmets as they ran to the

shore where there were several rowboats moored.

"And a little old-fashioned naphtha launch! By all that's

lucky!" cried Tom. "I didn't think they made these any more. If

she only works now!"

There was a little dock at this point on the lake, and the

boats appeared to be held at it for hire. But no one was in

charge, and Tom and Ned made free with what they found. They

considered they had this right in the emergency.

The naphtha launch was chained and padlocked to the dock, but

using an oar Tom burst the chain.

"Get one of the rowboats and fasten it to the back of the

launch!" Tom directed Ned. "I don't believe this craft will hold

them all," and he nodded toward those aboard the sinking boat --

for it was only too plainly sinking now.

"All right!" voiced Ned. "I'm with you. Can you get that engine

to work?"

"She's humming now," announced Tom, as he turned on the

naphtha, and threw in a blazing match to ignite it, this act

saving his hand. Naphtha engines are a trifle treacherous.

A few moments later, though not as quickly as a gasoline craft

could have been gotten under way, Tom was steering the small

launch out and away from the dock, and toward the craft whence

came the faint calls for help. Behind them Tom and Ned towed a

large rowboat.

Tom speeded the naphtha craft to its limit, and, fortunately

for those in danger, it was a fast boat. In less time than they

had thought possible, the young inventor and his chum were near

the boat that was now low in the water--so low, in fact, that her

rail was all but awash.

"Oh, take us out! Save us!" screamed some of the girls.

"Take it easy now," advised Tom, approaching with care. "We've

got room for you all. Ned, get back in the rowboat and bring that

alongside--on the other side. We'll take you all in," he added.

"Girls first!" called Ned sternly, as he saw one young fellow

about to scramble into the naphtha boat.

"Sure, girls first!" agreed the skipper of the disabled craft.

"Hit a submerged log," he explained to Tom, as the work of rescue

proceeded. "Stove a hole in the bow, but we stuffed coats and

things in, and made it a slow leak. Kept the engine going as long

as we could, but I thought no one would ever come! Lucky you

happened to see us from up there!"

"Yes," assented Tom shortly. He and Ned were too busy to talk

much, as they were aiding in getting some hysterical girls and

young women into the two sound craft. And when the last of the

picnic party had been taken off, the boat with a hole in it gave

a sudden lurch, there was a gurgling, bubbling sound, and she

sank quickly.

Tom and Ned had anticipated this, however, and had their craft

well out of the way of the suction.

"You'll all have to sit quiet," Tom warned his passengers as he

took Ned's boat, with her load, in tow. "I've got about all the

law allows me to carry," he added grimly.

"Oh, what ever would we have done without you?" half sobbed one

girl.

"I guess you could have managed to swim ashore," Tom answered,

not wanting to make too much of his effort.

Then more rescue boats came up, but those in the naphtha craft,

and Ned's smaller one, refused to be transferred, and remained

with our friends until safely landed at the dock.

Receiving the half-hysterical thanks of the party, and leaving

them to explain matters to the owner of the borrowed boats, Ned

and Tom went back to the Lucifer, and were soon aloft again.

"Pretty slick act, Tom," remarked Ned.

"Oh, it's all in the day's work," was the answer. He had all

but perfected his big fire-extinguishing aeroplane, and was

contemplating means by which he could give a demonstration to the

fire department of some big city, when Mr. Baxter asked to see

Tom one day. There was a look on the face of the chemist that

caused Tom to exclaim with a good deal of concern:

"What's the matter?"

"Only the same old trouble," was the discouraged answer. "I

can't get on the track of my lost secret formulae. If I had Field

and Melling here now I--I'd--"

He did not finish his threat, but the look on his face was

enough to show his righteous anger.

"I wish we could do something to those fellows!" exclaimed Tom

energetically. "If we only had some direct evidence against

them!"

"I've got evidence enough--in my own mind!" declared Mr.

Baxter.

"Unfortunately that doesn't do in law," returned Tom. "But now

that I have this airship firefighter craft so nearly finished, I

can devote more time to your troubles, Mr. Baxter."

"Oh, I don't want you bothered over my troubles," said the

chemist. "You have enough of your own. But I'm at my wit's end

what to do next."

"If it is money matters," began Tom.

"It's partly that, yes," said the other, in a low voice. "If I

had those dye formulae, I'd be a rich man."

"Well, let me help you temporarily," begged Tom. And the upshot

of the talk was that he engaged Mr. Baxter to do certain research

work in the Swift laboratories until such time as the chemist

could perfect certain other inventions on which he was working.

In return for his kindness to a fellow laborer, Tom received

from Mr. Baxter some valuable hints about fire-extinguishing

chemicals, one hint, alone, serving to bring about a curious

situation.

It was several days after the accident to the motor boat from

which the young inventor and Ned Newton had rescued the party of

pleasure seekers that Tom was visited by Mr. Damon, who drove

over in his car.

"Have you anything special to do, Tom?" asked the eccentric

man. "If you haven't I wish you'd take a ride with me. Not for

mere pleasure! Bless my excursion ticket, don't think that, Tom!"

cried his friend quickly.

"I know better than to ask you out for a pleasure jaunt. But I

have become interested in a certain candy-making machine that a

man over in Newmarket is anxious to sell me a share in, and I'd

like to get your opinion. Can you run over?"

"Yes," Tom answered. "As it happens I am going to Newmarket

myself."

"Oh, I forgot about Mary Nestor being there!" laughed Mr.

Damon. "Sly dog, Tom! Sly dog!" and he nudged the youth in the

ribs.

"It isn't altogether Mary. Though I am going to see her," Tom

admitted. "It has to do with a little apparatus I am getting up.

I can capture several birds in the same auto, so I'll go along."

This pleased Mr. Damon, and he and Tom were soon speeding over

the road. It was just outside Newmarket that they saw an

automobile stalled at the foot of a hill which they topped. It

needed but a glance to show that there was serious trouble. As

Mr. Damon's car went down the slope two men could be seen leaping

from the other machine. And, as they did so, flames burst out of

the rear of the stalled machine.

"Fire! Fire!" cried Mr. Damon, rather needlessly it would seem,

as any one could see the blaze.

"Another chance!" exclaimed Tom, reaching down between his feet

for a wrapped object he had placed in Mr. Damon's car. "It's

Field and Melling!" he cried. "The two men who boasted of having

put it over on Mr. Baxter. Their car is blazing. Here's where I

get a chance to heap coals of fire on their heads!"

CHAPTER XVI

VIOLENT THREATS

Tom Swift's companion in the automobile was sufficiently

acquainted with this old expression to understand readily what it

meant. And as he directed his car as close as was safe to the

blazing car, Mr. Damon asked:

"Are you going to put out that fire for them, Tom?"

"I'm going to try," was the grim answer.

The young inventor was rapidly taking out of wrapping paper a

metal cylinder with a short nozzle on one end and a handle on the

other. It was, obviously, a hand fire extinguisher of a type

familiar to all.

"Wait Tom, I'll slow up a little more," said Mr. Damon, as he

applied the brakes with more force. "Bless my court plaster!

don't jump and injure yourself."

But Tom Swift was sufficiently agile to leap from the

automobile when it was still making good speed. He did not want

Mr. Damon to approach too close to the burning car, for there

might be an explosion. At the same time, he rather discounted the

risk to himself, for he ran right in, while the two men, who had

leaped from the blazing machine, hurried to a safe distance.

Tom held in readiness a small hand extinguisher. It was one he

had constructed from an old one found in the shop, but it

contained some of his own chemicals, the original solution having

been used at some time or other. It was the intention of the

young inventor to put on the market a house-size extinguisher

after he had disposed of his big airship invention.

"Look out there! The gasoline tank may go up!" cried Field, the

small man with the big voice.

Tom did not answer, but ran in as close as was necessary and

began to play a small stream from his hand extinguisher on the

blazing car. He was thus able to direct the white, frothy

chemical better than when he had shot it from the airship, and in

a few seconds only some wisps of curling smoke remained to tell

of the presence of the fire. The automobile was badly charred,

but the damage was not past redemption.

"Bless my check book! you did the trick, Tom," cried Mr. Damon,

as he alighted and came up to congratulate his companion.

"Yes. But this wasn't much," Tom said. "I didn't use half the

charge. Short circuit?" he asked Field and Melling who were now

returning, having seen that the danger was passed.

"I--I guess so," replied Melling, in his squeaky voice. "We--we

are much obliged to you."

"No thanks necessary," said Tom, a bit shortly, as he turned to

go back with Mr. Damon to their car. "It's what any one would do

under like circumstances."

"Only you did it very effectively," observed Field.

Tom was wondering if they knew who he was and of his

association with Josephus Baxter. He did not believe the men

recognized him as the person who had been at the Meadow Inn one

day with Mary. They had hardly glanced at him then, he thought.

"That's a mighty powerful extinguisher you have there, young

man," said Melling. "May I ask the make of it? We ought to carry

one like it on our car," he told his companion.

"It is the Swift Aerial Fire Extinguisher," said Tom gravely,

with a glance at Mr. Damon.

"The Swift--Tom Swift?" exclaimed Melling. "Do you mean--"

"I am Tom Swift," put in the young inventor quickly. "And this

is one of my inventions. I might add," he said slowly, looking

first Melling and then Field full in the face, "that I was aided

in perfecting the chemical extinguisher by Josephus Baxter."

The effect on the two men, whom Tom believed were scoundrels,

was marked.

"Baxter!" cried Field.

"Is he associated with you?" demanded Melling.

"Not officially," Tom answered, delighted at the chance to "rub

it in," as he expressed it later. "I have been helping him, and

he has been helping me since he lost his dye formulae in--in your

fire!"

"Does he say he lost them in the fire of our factory?" demanded

Field aggressively.

"He believes he did," asserted Tom. "I helped carry him out of

the laboratory of your place when he was almost dead from

suffocation. He remembers that he had the formulae then, but since

has been unable to find them."

"He'd better be careful how he accuses us!" blustered Field, in

his big voice.

"We could have the law on him for that!" squeaked the bigger

Melling.

"He hasn't accused you," said Tom easily. "He only says the

formulae disappeared during the fire in your place, and he is

just wondering. that is all--just wondering!"

"Well, he--we, I--that is, we haven't anything from Baxter that

we didn't pay for," declared Field. "And if he goes about saying

such things he'd better be careful. I am going--"

But he suddenly became silent as his companion's elbow nudged

him. And then Melling took up the talk, saying:

"We're much obliged to you, Mr. Swift, for putting out the fire

in our car. But for you it would have been destroyed. And if you

ever want to sell the extinguisher process of yours, you'll find

us in the market. We are going into the dye business on a large

scale, and we can always use new chemical combinations."

"My extinguisher is not for sale," said Tom dryly. "Come on,

Mr. Damon. We can take you into town, I suppose," Tom went on,

looking at his eccentric friend for confirmation, and finding it

in a nod. "But I doubt if we could tow you, as we are in a hurry,

and--"

"Oh, thank you, we'll look over our machine before we leave

it," said Melling. "It may be that we can get it to go."

Tom doubted this, after a look at the charred section, but he

easily understood the dislike of the men, upon whose heads he had

heaped coals of fire, to ride with him and Mr. Damon.

So Field and Melling were left standing in the road near their

stranded car, which, but for Tom Swift's prompt action, would

have been only a heap of ruins.

Tom first visited the man who had a candy machine, in which the

owner wanted to interest Mr. Damon. After seeing a demonstration

and giving his opinion, he attended to his own affairs, in which

his hand extinguisher played a part. Then he called on Mary

Nestor at her relative's home.

"Oh, but it's good to see you again, Tom!" cried Mary, after

the first greeting. "What have you been doing, and what's all

that white stuff on your coat?"

"Fire extinguisher chemical," Tom answered, and he related what

had happened.

"What's the matter with your aunt, Mary? She seems worried

about something," he said, after the aunt with whom Mary was

staying had come in, greeted Tom briefly, and gone out again.

"Oh, she and Uncle Jasper are worried over money matters, I

believe," Mary said. "Uncle Jasper invested heavily in the

Landmark Building here, and now, I understand, it is discovered

that it was put up in violation of the building laws--something

about not being fire-proof. Uncle Jasper is likely to lose

considerable money.

"It isn't that it will make him so very poor," Mary went on.

"But Uncle Barton Keith--you remember you went on the undersea

search with him--Uncle Barton warned Uncle Jasper not to go into

the Landmark Building scheme."

"And Uncle Jasper did, I take it," said Tom.

"Yes. And now he's sorry, for not only may he lose money, but

Uncle Barton will laugh at him, and Uncle Jasper hates that worse

than losing a lot. But tell me about yourself, Tom. What have you

been doing? And is Eradicate going to get better?"

"I hope so," Tom said. "As for me--"

But he was interrupted by loud voices in the hall. He

recognized the tones of Mary's Uncle Jasper saying:

"They're scoundrels, that's what they are! Just plain

scoundrels! When I accuse them of swindling me and others in that

Landmark Building deal they have the nerve to ask me to invest

money in some secret dye formulae they claim will revolutionize

the industry! Bah! They're scoundrels, that's what they are--

Field and Melling are scoundrels, and I'm going to have them

arrested!"

CHAPTER XVII

A TOWN BLAZE

Mary's uncle, Jasper Blake, always an impetuous man, opened the

door so quickly that Tom, who was standing near it talking to

Mary, barely had time to move aside.

"Oh, Tom, excuse me! Didn't see you!" bruskly went on Mr.

Blake. "But this thing has gotten on my nerves and I guess I'm a

bit wrought up.

"There isn't any guessing about it, Uncle Jasper," said Mary,

with a laugh and a look at Tom to warn him not to tell her

relative that he had just befriended Field and Melling. "For," as

Mary said to Tom later, "he would positively rave at you."

Tom was wise enough to realize this, and so, after some

laughing reference to the effect that he would have to wear

protective armor if he stood near doors when Mary's uncle opened

them so suddenly, the conversation became general.

"I hope you never get roped in as I have been," said Mr. Blake,

as he sat down. "Those scoundrels, Field and Melling, would rob a

baby of his first tooth if they had the chance!"

"No, I am not likely to have anything to do with them; though I

have met them," and Tom gave Mary a glance. "But did I hear you

say they are embarking on a dye enterprise?" he asked. "I

couldn't help overhearing what you said in the hall," he

explained.

"That's the story they tell," said Uncle Jasper. "I was foolish

enough to invest in the Landmark Building, and now I'm likely to

lose it all in a lawsuit."

"I mentioned it," said Mary.

"And that isn't the worst," went on Mr. Blake. "But Barton--

that's your friend of the submarine--will give me the laugh, for

he was asked to invest in the same building, and didn't."

"Oh, maybe it will all turn out right," said Tom consolingly.

"My friend Mr. Damon has a little stock in the same structure."

"Nothing those two scoundrels have anything to do with will

turn out right," declared Mary's uncle. "And to think of their

nerve when they ask me to go in with them on a dye scheme!"

"That's what interests me," said Tom.

"Well, take my advice and don't become interested to the extent

of investing any money," warned Mr. Blake. "I'm not going to."

"I didn't mean that way," said Tom. "But I happen to be

acquainted with an expert dye maker who lost some secret formulae

during a fire in Field and Melling's factory."

"You don't say so!" cried Mr. Blake. "Tom Swift, there's

something wrong here! Let you and me talk this over. I begin to

see how I may be able to take a peep through the hole in the

grindstone," a colloquial expression which was as well understood

by Tom as were some of Mr. Damon's blessing remarks.

"If you're going to talk business I think I'll excuse myself,"

said Mary.

"Don't go," urged Tom, but she said to him that she would see

him before he left, and then she went out, leaving her uncle and

the young inventor busily engaged in talking.

But though Mr. Blake had certain suspicions regarding Field and

Melling, and though Tom Swift, too, believed they had something

to do with the disappearance of Baxter's secret formulae, it was

another matter to prove anything.

Impetuous as he often was, Mr. Blake was for calling in the

police at once, and having the two men arrested. But Tom

counseled delay.

"Wait until we get more evidence against them," he urged.

"But they may skip out!" objected Mary's uncle.

"They won't with that Landmark Building on their hands," said

the young inventor.

"Their hands! Huh! They'll take precious good care that the

trouble and responsibility of it are on other people's hands

before they go," declared Mr. Blake. "However, I suppose you're

right. Barton Keith sets a deal by your opinion since that

undersea search, and while I don't always agree with him, I do in

this case. Especially since he is likely to have the laugh on

me."

"Oh, I wouldn't count everything lost in that building deal,"

said Tom. "A way may be found out of the trouble yet. But I must

be getting back. Dr. Henderson was to give a report today on the

condition of Eradicate's eyes, and I want to be there."

"Mary was saying something about your faithful old retainer

being in trouble," said Mr. Blake. "I'm sorry to hear about it."

"We are all sorry for poor Rad," replied Tom slowly. "I only

hope he gets his sight back. His last days will be very sad if he

doesn't."

Tom found Mary waiting for him after he had left her uncle,

and, after a short talk with her, he made ready to ride back with

Mr. Damon, who, after having attended to several other matters,

was now outside in his car.

"When are you coming home, Mary?" Tom asked.

"In a week or two," she answered. "I'll send word when I'm

ready and you can come and get me."

"Delighted!" declared Tom. "Don't forget!" During the ride home

the young inventor was unusually silent, so much so that Mr.

Damon finally exclaimed:

"Bless my phonograph, Tom Swift! but what is the matter? Has

Mary broken the engagement?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," was the answer. "Only I'm

wondering about Eradicate, and--other matters."

Other matters had to do with what Mary's uncle had told Tom

about the interest manifested by Field and Melling in some dye

industry.

Tom's forebodings regarding his colored helper were nearly

borne out, for Dr. Henderson gloomily shook his head when asked

for the verdict.

"It's too early to say for a certainty," replied the medical

man, "but I am not as hopeful as I was, Tom, I'm sorry to say."

"I'm sorry to hear it," returned Tom. "Is there anything we can

do--any hospital to which we can send him for special treatment?"

"No, he is doing as well as he can be expected to right here.

Besides, he has his friends around him, and the companionship of

that giant of yours, absurd as it may seem, is really a tonic to

Eradicate. I never saw such devotion on the part of any one."

"Koku has certainly changed," said Tom. "He and Rad used always

to be quarreling. But I guess that is all over," and Tom sighed.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," declared the medical man. "I haven't

given up, though there are some symptoms I do not like. However,

I am going to wait a week and then make another test."

Tom knew that the week would be an anxious one for him, but, as

it developed, he had so much to do in the next few days that, for

the time being, he rather forgot about Eradicate.

Field and Melling, he heard incidentally, had their machine

towed to a garage for repairs, but beyond that no word came from

the two men. Josephus Baxter remained at work over his dye

formulae in one of Tom's laboratories, but the young inventor did

not see much of the discouraged old man.

Tom did not tell of the encounter with Field and Melling and of

extinguishing the fire in their car, for he knew it would only

excite Mr. Baxter, and do no good.

It was within a few days of the time when Tom was to call in a

committee of fire insurance experts to give them a demonstration

of the efficiency of his aerial fire-fighting machine. He was

putting the finishing touches to his craft and its extinguishing-

dropping devices when he received a call from Mr. Baxter.

"Well, how goes it?" asked Tom, trying to infuse some cheer

into his voice.

"Not very well," was the answer. "I've tried, in every way I

know, to get on the track of the missing methods perfected by

that Frenchman, but I can't. I'd be a millionaire now, if I had

that dye information."

"Do you really think they have them--actually have the

formulae?" asked Tom.

"I certainly do. And the reason I believe so is that I was over

at a chemical supply factory the other day when an order came in

for a quantity of a very rare chemical."

"What has that to do with it?" asked Tom.

"This chemical is an ingredient called for by one of the dye

formulae that were stolen from me. I never heard of its being

used for anything else. I at once became suspicious. I learned

that this chemical had been ordered sent to Field and Melling in

their new offices in the Landmark Building."

"Maybe they intend to use it in making a new kind of

fireworks," suggested Tom.

Mr. Baxter shook his head.

"That chemical never would work in a skyrocket or Roman

candle," he said. "I'm sure they're trying to cheat me out of my

dye formulae. If I could only prove it!"

"That's the trouble," agreed Tom. "But I'll give you all the

help I can. And, come to think of it, I believe you might

interest Mr. Blake. He has no love for Field and Melling, and he

has several keen lawyers on his staff. I believe it would be a

good thing for you to talk to Mr. Blake."

"Please give me a letter of introduction to him," begged Mr.

Baxter. "What I need is legal talent and capital to fight these

scoundrels. Mr. Blake may supply both."

"He may," agreed Tom. "I'll fix it so you can meet him. But

what do you think of this combination, Mr. Baxter? It is my very

latest solution for putting out fires. I'm loading an airship up

with some of the bomb containers now, and--"

Tom's further remarks were interrupted by the noise of shouting

and tumult in the street, and a moment later yells could be heard

of:

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

"Another blaze!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter, raising the shades which

had been drawn, since night had fallen.

"And not far away," said Tom, as he caught the reflection of a

red gleam in the sky.

There was a ring at the front doorbell, and almost at once Ned

Newton's voice called:

"Tom! Tom Swift! There's quite a fire in town! Don't you want

to try your new apparatus on it?"

"The very chance!" exclaimed the young inventor. "Come on, Mr.

Baxter. There's room in the airship for you and Ned. I want you

to see how my chemical works!"

Without waiting for a reply from the chemist, Tom caught him by

the hand and led him toward the side door that gave egress to the

yard where one of the airships was housed. Tom caught sight of

Ned, who was hastening toward him.

"Big fire, Tom!" said the young manager again. "Fierce one!"

"I'm going to try to put it out!" Tom answered. "Want to come?"

"Sure thing!" answered Ned.

CHAPTER XVIII

FINISHING TOUCHES

Tom Swift and Ned Newton were so accustomed to acting quickly

and in emergencies that it did not take them long to run out the

airship, which Tom had in readiness, not especially for this

emergency, but to demonstrate his new apparatus to a committee of

fire underwriters whom he had invited to call in a few days.

"Take this, if you will, Mr. Baxter!" cried Tom, giving the

chemist a metal container. "It's a little different combination

from the extinguisher I already have in the machine. Maybe I'll

get a chance to try it."

"You're going to have all the chance you want, Tom, by the

looks of that blaze," commented Ned Newton.

"It does look like quite a fire," observed Tom, as he gazed up

at the sky, where the reflection was turning to a brighter red.

Outside in the streets near the Swift house and shops could be

heard the rattle of fire apparatus, the patter of running feet,

and many shouts from excited men and boys.

"Any idea what it is, Ned?" asked Tom, as he motioned to Mr.

Baxter to climb into the aircraft.

"Some one said it was the new Normal School. But that's farther

to the north," was Ned's answer. "By the way the blaze has

increased since I first saw it, I'd take it to be the

lumberyard."

"That would make a monster blaze!" observed Tom. "I don't

believe I'll have chemicals enough for that," and he looked at

the rather small supply in his craft. "However, I haven't time to

get any more. Besides, they'll have the regular department on the

job, and this isn't a skyscraper, anyhow."

"No, we'll have to go to New York or Newmarket for one of

those," observed Ned. "All ready, Tom?"

"All ready," said the young inventor, as Ned took his place

beside Mr. Baxter.

"What's the matter, Tom?" asked the voice of Mr. Swift, as he

came out into the yard, having been attracted by the flashing

lights and the noise of the aircraft motor, as Tom gave it a

preliminary test.

"There's a fire in town," Tom answered. "I'm going to see if

they need my services."

"Guess there isn't any question about that," said his business

manager.

Tom's father, who was suffering the infirmities of age, was in

the habit of retiring early, and he had dozed off in his chair

directly after supper, to be awakened by the shouting and

confusion about the place.

"Take care of yourself, my boy!" he advised, as there came a

moment of silence before the throttle of the aircraft was opened

to send it on its upward journey. "Don't take too many risks."

"I won't," Tom promised. "We'll be back soon."

Then came the roar of the motor as Tom cut out the muffler to

gain speed and, a moment later, he and his two friends were

sailing aloft with a load of fire-extinguishing chemicals.

Up and up rose the aircraft. It was not the first time Mr.

Baxter had enjoyed the sensation, but he was not enough of a

veteran to be immune to the thrills nor to be altogether void of

fear. And it was his first night trip. Still he gave few

evidences of nervousness.

"These she is!" cried Ned, for when the exhaust from the motor

was sent through the new muffler Tom had attached it was possible

to talk aboard the Lucifer. The young manager pointed down toward

the earth, over which the craft was then skimming, though at no

great height.

"It is the lumberyard!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter presently.

"It sure is," assented Tom. "I know I haven't enough stuff to

cover as big a blaze as that, but I'll do my best. Fortunately

there is no wind to speak of," he added, as he guided the craft

in the direction of the fire.

"What has that to do with it--I mean as far as the working of

your chemical extinguisher is concerned?" asked Mr. Baxter.

"Can't you drop the bomb containers accurately in a wind?"

"Well, the wind has to be allowed for in dropping anything from

an aeroplane," Tom answered. "And, naturally, it does spoil your

aim to an extent. But the reason I'm glad there is no wind to

speak of is that the chemical blanket I hope to spread over the

fire won't be so quickly blown away."

"Oh, I see," said Mr. Baxter. "Well, I'm glad that you will be

able to have a successful test of your invention."

"The regular land apparatus is on hand," observed Ned, for they

were now so near the fire that they could look down and, in the

reflection from the blaze, could see engines, hose-wagons and

hook and ladder trucks arriving and deploying to different places

of advantage, from which to fight the lumberyard fire that was

now a roaring furnace of flames.

"No skyscraper work needed here," observed Tom. "But it will

give me a chance to use the latest combination I worked out. I'll

try that first. Are you ready with it, Mr. Baxter?"

"Yes," was the answer.

The young inventor, not heeding the cries of wonder that arose

from below and paying no attention to the uplifted hands and arms

pointing to him, steered his craft to a corner of the yard where

there was a small isolated fire in a pile of boards. It was Tom's

idea to try his new chemical first on this spot to watch the

effect. Then he would turn loose all his other containers of the

chemical mixture that had proved so effective in other tests.

Attention of those who had gathered to look at the fire was

about evenly divided between the efforts of the regular

department and the pending action by Tom Swift. The latter was

not long in turning loose his latest sensation.

"Let it go!" he cried to Mr. Baxter, and down into the seething

caldron of flame dropped a thin sheet-iron container of powerful

chemicals. Leaning over the cockpit of the aircraft, the

occupants watched the effect. There was a slight explosion heard,

even above the roar of the flames, and the tongues of fire in the

section where Tom's extinguisher had fallen died down.

"Good work!" cried Ned.

"No!" answered Tom, shaking his head. "I was a little afraid of

this. Not enough carbon dioxide in this mixture. I'll stick to

the one I found most effective." For the flames, after

momentarily dying down, burst out again in the spot where he had

dropped the bomb.

Tom wheeled the airship in a sharp, banking turn, and headed

for the heart of the fire in the lumberyard. It was clearly

getting beyond the control of the regular department.

"How about you, Ned?" called Tom, for he had given his chum

charge of dropping the regular bombs containing a large quantity

of the extinguisher Tom had practically adopted.

"All ready," was the answer.

"Let 'em go!" came the command, and down shot the dark,

spherical objects. They burst as they hit the ground or the piles

of blazing lumber, and at once the powerful gases generated by

the mixture of several different chemicals were released.

Again the three in the airship leaned eagerly over the side of

the cockpit to watch the effect. It was almost magical in its

action.

The bombs had been dropped into the very fiercest heart of the

fire, and it was only an instant before their action was made

manifest.

"This will do the trick!" cried Ned. "I'm certain it will."

"I didn't have much fear that it wouldn't," said Tom. "But I

hoped the other would be better, for it is a much cheaper mixture

to make, and that will count when you come to sell it to big

cities."

"But the fire is certainly dying down," declared Mr. Baxter.

And this was true. As container after container of the bomb

type fell in different parts of the burning lumberyard, while Tom

coursed above it, the flames began to be smothered in various

sections.

And from the watching crowds, as well as from the hard-working

members of the Shopton fire department, came cheers of delight

and encouragement as they saw the work of Tom Swift's aerial

fire-fighting machine.

For he had, most completely, subdued what threatened to be a

great fire, and when the last of his bombs had been dropped, so

effective was the blanket of fire-dampening gases spread around

that the flames just naturally expired, as it were.

As Tom had said, the absence of wind was in his favor, for the

generated gases remained just where they were wanted, directly

over the fire like an extinguishing blanket, and were not blown

aside as would otherwise have been the case.

And, by the peculiar manner in which his chemicals were mixed,

Tom had made them practically harmless for human beings to

breathe. Though the fire-killing gases were unpleasant, there was

no danger to life in them, and while several of the firemen made

wry faces, and one or two were slightly ill from being too close

to the chemicals, no one was seriously inconvenienced.

"Well, I. guess that's all," said Tom, when the final bomb had

been dropped. "That was the last of them, wasn't it, Ned?"

"Yes, but you don't need any more. The fire's out--or what

isn't can be easily handled by the hose lines."

"Good!" cried Tom. "But, all the same, I wish I had been able

to make the first mixture work."

"Perhaps I can help you with that," suggested Mr. Baxter.

And the following day, after Tom had received the thanks of the

town officials and of the fire department for his work in

subduing the lumberyard blaze, the young inventor called Josephus

Baxter in consultation.

"I feel that I need your help," said the young inventor. "You

have been at this chemical study longer than I, and I am willing

to pay you well for your work. Of course I can't make up to you

the loss of your dye formulae. But while you are waiting for

something to turn up in regard to them, you may be glad to assist

me."

"I will, and without pay," said the chemist.

But Tom would not hear of that, and together he and Mr. Baxter

set about putting the finishing touches to Tom's latest

invention.

CHAPTER XIX

ON THE TRAIL

"There, Tom Swift, it ought to work now!"

Josephus Baxter held up a large laboratory test tube, in which

seethed and bubbled some strange mixture, turning from green to

purple, then to red, and next to a white, milky mixture.

"Do you think you've hit on the right combination?" asked the

young inventor, whose latest idea, the plan of fighting fires in

skyscrapers from an airship as a vantage point, was taking up all

his spare moments.

"I'm positive of it," said Mr. Baxter. "I've dabbled in

chemicals long enough to be certain of this, even if I can't get

on the track of the missing dye formulae."

"That certainly is too bad," declared Tom. "I wish I could help

you as much as you have helped me."

"Oh, you have helped me a lot," said the chemist. "You have

given me a place to work, much better than the laboratory I had

in the old fireworks factory of Field and Melling. And you have

paid me, more than liberally, for what little I have done for

you."

"You've done a lot for me," declared Tom. "If it had not been

for your help this chemical compound would not be nearly as

satisfactory as it is, nor as cheap to manufacture, which is a

big item."

"Oh, you were on the right track," said Mr. Baxter. "You would

have stumbled on it yourself in a short time, I believe. But I

will say, Tom Swift, that, between us, we have made a compound

that is absolutely fatal to fires. Even a small quantity of it,

dropped in the heart of a large blaze, will stop combustion."

"And that's what I want," declared Tom. "I think I shall go

ahead now, and proceed with the manufacture of the stuff on a

large scale."

"And what do you propose doing with it?" asked Mr. Baxter.

"I'm going to sell the patent and the idea that goes with it to

as many large cities as I can," Tom answered. "I'll even

manufacture the airships that are needed to carry the stuff over

the tops of blazing skyscrapers, dropping it down. I'll supply

complete aerial fire-fighting plants."

"And I think you'll do a good business," said the chemist.

It was the conclusion of the final tests of an improved

chemical mixture, and the reaction that had taken place in the

test tube was the end of the experiment. Success was now again on

the side of Tom Swift.

But when that has been said there remains the fact that it was

just the other way with the unfortunate Mr. Baxter.

Try as he had, he could not succeed in getting the right

chemical combination to perfect the dye process imparted to him

by his late French friend. With the disappearance of the secret

formulae went the good luck of Josephus Baxter.

He had worked hard, taking advantage of Tom's generosity, to

bring back to his memory the proper manner of mixing certain

ingredients, so that permanent dyes of wondrous beauty in

coloring would be evolved. But it was all in vain.

"I know who have those formulae," declared the chemist again

and again. "It is those scoundrels, Field and Melling. And they

are planning to build up their own dye business with what is mine

by right!"

And though Tom, also, believed this, there was no way of

proving it.

As the young inventor had said, he was now ready to put his own

latest invention on the market. After many tests, aided in some

by Mr. Baxter, a form of liquid fire extinguisher had been made

that was superior to any known, and much cheaper to manufacture.

Veteran members of fire departments in and about Shopton told Tom

so. All that remained was to demonstrate that it would be as

effective on a large scale as it was on a small one, and big

cities, it was agreed, must, of necessity, add it to their

equipment.

"Well, I think I'll give orders to start the works going," said

Tom, at the conclusion of the final test. "I have all the

ingredients on hand now, and all that remains is to combine them.

My airship is all ready, with the bomb-dropping device."

"And I wish you all sorts of luck," said Mr. Baxter. "Now I am

going to have another go at my troubles. I have just thought of a

possible new way of combining two of the chemicals I need to use.

It may be I shall have success."

"I hope so," murmured Tom. He was about to leave the room when

Koku, the giant, entered, with a letter in his hand. The big man

showed some signs of agitation, and Tom was at once apprehensive

about Eradicate.

"Is Rad--has anything happened--shall I get the doctor?"

"Oh, Rad, him all right," answered Koku. "That is him not see

yet, but mebby soon. Only I have to chase boy, an' he make faces

at me--boy bring this," and the giant held out the envelope.

"Oh!" exclaimed Tom, and he understood now. Messenger boys

frequently came to Tom's house or to the shops, and they took

delight in poking fun at Koku on account of his size, which made

him slow in getting about. The boys delighted to have him chase

them, and something like this had evidently just taken place,

accounting for Koku's agitation.

"This is for you, Mr. Baxter, not for me," said Tom, as he read

the name on the envelope.

"For me!" exclaimed the chemist. "Who could be writing to me?

It's a big firm of dye manufacturers," he went on, as he caught a

glimpse of the superscription in the upper left hand corner.

Quickly he read the contents of the epistle, and a moment later

he gave a joyful cry.

"I'm on the trail! On the trail of those scoundrels at last!"

exclaimed Josephus Baxter. "This gives me just the evidence I

needed! Now I'll have them where I want them!"

CHAPTER XX

A HEAVY LOAD

Josephus Baxter was so excited by the receipt of the letter

which Koku delivered to him that for some seconds Tom Swift could

get nothing out of him except the statement:

"I'm on their trail! Now I'm on their trail!"

"What do you mean?" Tom insisted. "Whose trail? What's it all

about?"

"It's about Field and Melling! That's who it's about!"

exclaimed Mr. Baxter, with a smothered exclamation. "Look, Tom

Swift, this letter is addressed to me from one of the biggest dye

firms in the world--a firm that is always looking for something

new!"

"But if you haven't anything new to give them, of what use is

it?" Tom asked, for he knew that the chemist had said his

process, stolen, as he claimed, by Field and Melling, was his

only new project.

"But I will have something new when I get those secret formulae

away from those scoundrels!" declared Mr. Baxter.

"Yes, but how are you going to do it, when you can't even prove

that they have them?" asked Tom.

"Ah, that's the point! Now I think I can prove it," declared

Mr. Baxter. "Look, Tom Swift! This letter is addressed to me in

care of Field and Melling at the office I used to have in their

fireworks factory."

"The office from which you were rescued nearly dead," Tom

added.

"Exactly. The place where you saved me from a terrible death.

Well, if you will notice, this letter was written only two days

ago. And it is the first mail I have received as having been

forwarded from that address since the fire. I know other mail

must have come for me, though."

"What became of it?" asked Tom.

"Those scoundrels confiscated it!" declared the chemist. "But,

in some manner, perhaps through the error of a new clerk, this

letter was remailed to me here, and now I have it. It is of the

utmost importance!"

"In what way?" asked Tom.

"Why, it is directed to me, outside and in, and it makes an

inquiry about the very dyes of the lost secret formulae, one dye

in particular."

"I don't quite understand yet," said Tom.

"Well, it's this way," went on Mr. Baxter. "I had, in the

office of Field and Melling, all the papers telling exactly how

to make the dyes. After the fire, in which I was rendered

unconscious, those papers disappeared.

"The only way in which any one could make the dyes in question

was by following the formulae given in those papers. And now here

is a letter, addressed to me from a big firm, asking my prices on

a certain dye, which can only be made by the process bequeathed

to me by the Frenchman."

"Which means what?" asked Tom.

"It means that Field and Melling must have been writing to this

firm on their own hook, offering to sell them some of this dye.

But, in some way, my name must have appeared on the letter or

papers sent on by the scoundrels, and this big firm replies to me

direct, instead of to Field and Melling! Even then I would not

have benefited if they had confiscated this letter as I am sure,

they have done in the case of others. But, by some slip, I get

this.

"And it proves, Tom Swift, that Field and Melling are in

possession of my dye formulae, and that they have tried to

dispose of some of the dye to this firm. Not knowing anything of

this, the firm replies to me. So now I have direct evidence--just

what I wanted--and I can get on the trail of the scoundrels who

have cheated me of my rights."

Tom looked at the letter which, it appeared, had been left with

Koku by a special delivery boy from the post office. It was an

inquiry about certain dyes, and was addressed to Mr. Baxter in

care of Field and Melling, the former fireworks firm, which now

had started a big dye plant, with offices in the Landmark

Building in Newmarket.

"It does look as though you might get at them through this,"

Tom said, as he handed back the letter. "But I'm afraid you'll

have to get further evidence before you could convict them in a

court of law--you'll have to show that they actually have

possession of your formulae."

"That's what I wish I could do," said the chemist, somewhat

wistfully. His first enthusiasm had been lessened.

"I'll help you all I can," offered Tom. And events were soon to

transpire by which the young inventor was to render help to the

chemist in a most sensational manner.

"Just now," Tom went on, "I must arrange about getting a large

supply of these chemicals made, and then plan for a test in some

big city."

"Yes, you have done enough for me," said Mr. Baxter. "But I

think now, with this letter as evidence, we'll be able to make a

start."

"I agree with you," Tom said. "Why don't you go over to see Mr.

Damon? He's a good business man, and perhaps he can advise you.

You might also call on that lawyer who does work for Mr. Keith

and Mr. Blake. And that reminds me I must call Mary Nestor up and

find out when she is coming home. I promised to fetch her in one

of the airships."

"I will go and see Mr. Damon," decided Mr. Baxter. "He always

gives good advice."

"Even if he does bless everything he sees!" laughed Tom. "But

if you're going to see him I'll run you over. I'm going to

Waterfield."

"Thanks, I'll be glad to go with you," said the chemist.

Mr. Damon was glad to see his friends, and, when he had

listened to the latest developments, he exclaimed with unusual

emphasis:

"Bless my law books, Mr. Baxter! but I do believe you're on the

right trail at last. Come in, and we'll talk this over."

So Tom left them, traveling on to a distant city where he

arranged for a large supply of the chemicals he would need in his

extinguisher.

For several days Tom was so busy that he had little time to

devote to Mr. Baxter, or even to see him. He learned, however,

that the chemist and Mr. Damon were in frequent consultation, and

the young inventor hoped something would come of it.

Tom's own plans were going well. He had let several large

cities know that he had something new in the way of a fire-

fighting machine, and he received several offers to demonstrate

it.

He closed with one of these, some distance off, and agreed to

fly over in his aircraft and extinguish a fire which was to be

started in an old building which had been condemned. and was to

be destroyed. This was in a city some four hundred miles away and

when Ned Newton called on him one afternoon he found Tom busily

engaged in loading his sky-craft with a heavy cargo of the newest

liquid extinguisher.

"You aren't taking any chances, are you, Tom?" asked Ned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you seem to have enough of the liquid 'fire-

discourager' to douse any blaze that was ever started."

"No use sending a boy on a man's errand," said Tom. "I'm

counting on you to go with me, Ned--you and Mr. Baxter. We leave

this afternoon for Denton."

"I'll be with you. Couldn't pass up a chance like that. But

here comes Koku, and it looks as if he had something on his

mind."

The giant did, indeed, seem to be laboring under the stress of

some emotion.

"Oh, Master Tom!" the big man exclaimed when he had got the

attention of the young inventor. "Rad--he--he--"

"Has anything happened?" asked Tom, quickly. "No, not yet. But

dat pill man--he say by tomorrow he know if Rad ever will see

sunshine more!"

"Oh, the doctor says he'll be able to decide about Rad's

eyesight tomorrow, does he?"

"Yes. What so pill man say," repeated Koku.

"Um," mused Tom, "I wish I were going to be here, but I don't

see how I can. I must give this test." But it was with a sinking

heart as he thought of poor Eradicate that the young inventor

proceeded to pile into his airship the largest and heaviest load

of chemicals it had ever carried.

CHAPTER XXI

THE LIGHT IN THE SKY

"WELL, what do you say, Tom?" asked Ned, in a low voice.

"She's all right as far as I can see, though she may stagger a

bit at the take off."

"It's a pretty heavy load," agreed the young manager, as he and

Tom Swift walked about the big fire-fighting airship Lucifer,

which had been rolled outside the hangar. "But still I think

she'll take it, especially since you've tuned up the motor so

it's at least twenty per cent. more powerful than it was."

"Perhaps you'd better leave me out," suggested Mr. Baxter, who

had been helping the boys. "I'm not a feather weight, you know."

"I need you with us," said Tom. "I want your expert opinion on

the effect the new chemicals have on the flames."

"Well, I'd like to come," admitted the chemist, "for it will be

a valuable experience for me. But I don't want an accident up in

the air."

"Trust Tom Swift for that!" cried Ned. "If he says his aircraft

will do the trick, it positively will."

"How about leaving me out?" asked Mr. Damon. "I'm not an expert

in anything, as far as I know."

"You are in keeping us cheerful. And we may need you to bless

things if there's a slip-up anywhere," laughed Tom, for Mr. Damon

had been invited to be one of the party.

"I don't so much mind a slipup," said Mr. Damon, "as I do a

slip down. That's where it hurts! However, I'll take a chance

with you, Tom Swift. It won't be the first one--and I guess it

won't be the last."

The work of getting the big airship ready for what was to be a

conclusive test of her fire-fighting abilities from the clouds

proceeded rapidly. As has been related, Tom had perfected, with

the help of Mr. Baxter, a combination of chemicals which was

effective in putting out a fire when dropped into the blaze from

above. Quantities of this combination had been stored in metal

containers which Tom had at first styled "bombs," but which he

now called "aerial grenades."

The manner of dropping the grenades was, on the whole, similar

to the manner in which bombs were dropped from airships during

the Great War, but Tom had made several improvements in this

plan.

These improvements had to do with the releasing of the bombs,

or, in this case, grenades. It is not easy to drop or throw

something from a swiftly moving airship so that it will hit an

object on the ground. During the war aviators had to train for

some time before becoming even approximately accurate.

Tom Swift decided that to leave this matter to chance or to the

eye of the occupant of an airship was too indefinite. Accordingly

he invented a machine, something like a range-finder for big

guns. With this it was a comparatively easy matter to drop a

grenade at almost any designated place.

To accomplish this it was necessary to take into consideration

the speed of the airship, its height above the ground, the

velocity of the wind, the weight of the grenades, and other

things of this sort. But by an intricate mathematical process Tom

solved the problem, so that it was only necessary to set certain

pointers and levers along a slide rule in the cockpit of the

craft. Then when the releasing catch was pressed, the grenades

would drop down just about where they were most needed.

"I think everything is ready," said Tom, when he had taken a

last look over his craft, making sure that all the chemical

grenades were in place. "If you will be ready, gentlemen, we will

take our places and start in about half an hour," he added. "I

want to say goodbye to my father, and cheer up Rad--if I can."

"The doctor will know tomorrow, will he?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Yes. And I'm sorry I will not be here to listen to the

report," said Tom. "Though I am almost afraid to receive it," he

added in a low voice. "I shall blame myself if Rad is to go

through the remainder of his life blind."

"It couldn't be helped," said Ned. "We'll hope for the best."

"Yes," agreed Tom, "that's all we can do--hope for the best. By

the way," he went on, turning to Mr. Baxter, "are you any nearer

fastening the guilt on those two rascals, Field and Melling?"

"Bless my prosecuting attorney, no!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"Those are the slickest scoundrels I ever tackled! They're like a

flea. Once you think you have them where you want them, and

they're on the other side of the table, skipping around."

"I've about given up," said Mr. Baxter, in discouraged tones.

"I guess my dye formulae are gone forever."

"Don't say that!" exclaimed Tom. "Once I get this fire matter

off my hands, I'm going to tackle the problem myself. We'll

either make those fellows sorry they ever meddled in this matter,

or we'll get up a new combination of dyes that will put them out

of business!"

"Bless my Easter eggs, I'm glad to hear you talk that way!"

cried Mr. Damon.

"Well, Rad, I'll expect to see you up and around when I get

back," said Tom to his old servant, as he stepped into the sick

room to say goodbye.

"Oh, is yo' goin', Massa Tom?" asked the colored man, turning

his bandaged head in the direction of the beloved voice.

"Yes. I'm going to try out a new scheme of mine--the fire

extinguisher, you know."

"De same one whut fizzed up, an'--an' busted me in de eyes,

Massa Tom?"

"Yes, Rad, I'm sorry to say, it's the same one."

"Oh, shucks now, Massa Tom! whut's use worryin'?" laughed Rad.

"I suah will be all right when yo' gits back. De doctor man--de

'pill man' dat giant calls him--says I'll suah be better."

"Of course you will," declared Tom, but his heart sank when he

saw Mrs. Baggert remove the bandages and he caught sight of Rad's

burned face and the eyes that had to be kept closed if ever they

were again to look on the sunshine and flowers. "And when I come

back, Rad, I'll stage a little fire for your benefit, and show

you how quickly I can put it out."

"Ha! dat's whut I wants to see, Massa Tom, I suah does like to

see fires!" chuckled Eradicate. "Mah ole mule, Boomerang--does

yo' 'member. him, Massa Tom?"

"Of course, Rad!"

"Well, Boomerang he liked fires, too. Liked 'em so much I jest

couldn't git him past 'em lots ob times I But run 'long, Massa

Tom. Yo' ain't got no time to waste on an ole culled man whut's

seen his best days. Yas-sir, I reckon I'se seen mah best days,"

and the smile died from the honest, black face.

"Oh, don't talk like that!" cried Tom, as cheerfully as he

could. "You've got a lot of work in you yet, Rad. Hasn't he,

Koku?" and the young inventor appealed to the giant, who seldom

left the side of his former enemy.

"Rad good man--him an' me do lots work--next week mebby," said

Koku, smiling very broadly.

"That's the way to talk!" exclaimed Tom, and he laughed a

little though his heart was far from light.

And then, having seen to the final details, he took his place

in the big airship with Ned, Mr. Damon and Josephus Baxter. The

craft carried the largest possible load of fire extinguishing

chemicals.

As Tom had feared, the Lucifer staggered a bit in "taking off"

late that afternoon when the start was made for the distant city

of Denton, where the first real test was to be made under the

supervision and criticism of the fire department. But once the

craft was aloft she rode on a level keel.

"I guess we're all right," Tom said. But to make certain he

circled several times over his own landing field, that a good

place to come down might be assured if something unforeseen

developed.

However, all went well, and then the course was straightened

for the distant city.

"We'll go right over Newmarket, sha'n't we, Tom?" asked Ned, as

the speed of the Lucifer increased.

"Yes. And I wish I had time to stop and see Mary, but I

haven't. It's getting dark fast, and we ought to arrive at our

destination early in the morning. The test has been set by the

committee for ten o'clock."

They settled themselves comfortably in the big craft for a long

night trip, and Mr. Damon was just going to bless something or

other when he pointed off into the distance.

"Look, Tom!" cried the eccentric man. "See that light in the

sky!"

"Seems to be a fire," observed Ned.

"It is a fire!" shouted Mr. Baxter. "And it's

in Newmarket, if I'm any judge."

Tom Swift did not answer, but he shoved forward the gasolene

lever of his controls, and the Lucifer shot ahead through the air

while the red, angry glow deepened in the evening sky.

CHAPTER XXII

TRAPPED

While Tom Swift was loading the Lucifer for her trip and the

fire extinguishing test to occur the next morning, quite a

different scene was taking place in the home of Jasper Blake, the

uncle of Mary Nestor, where she had gone to spend a few weeks.

"Well, are you all ready, Mary?" asked her aunt, and it was

about the same time that Ned Newton asked that same question of

Tom Swift. Only Tom was in Shopton, and Mary was in Newmarket,

and Tom was setting off on an air voyage, while Mary was only

preparing to take a car downtown to do some shopping.

"Yes, Aunt, I'm all ready," Mary answered. "But I may be a bit

late getting home."

"Why?" asked Mrs. Blake.

"I promised Uncle Barton I'd stop and call on him at his

office," Mary replied. "He has something he wants me to take home

to mother when I go tomorrow."

"I shall be sorry to see you go back," said Mrs. Blake. "But I

imagine there will be those in Shopton who will be glad to see

you return, Mary."

"Yes, mother wrote that she and dad were getting a bit

lonesome," the girl casually replied, as she adjusted her veil.

"Yes, and some one else. Ah, Mary, you are a very lucky girl!"

laughed her aunt, while Mary turned aside so she would not see

her own blushes in the mirror.

"I thought Tom was going to call and take you home in his

airship, Mary," went on her relative.

"So he is, I believe, on his way back from a city where he is

going to be tomorrow making a big fire test. I am to wait for him

until tomorrow afternoon. But now I really must go shopping, or

all the bargains will be taken. Is there any word you want to

send to Uncle Barton?"

"No," answered Mrs. Blake. "Though you might tell him to stop

poking fun at your Uncle Jasper for having invested money in the

Landmark Building. It's getting on your Uncle Jasper's nerves,"

she added.

"Uncle Barton never can give up a joke, once he thinks he has

one," said Mary. "But I'll tell him to stop pestering Uncle

Jasper."

"Please do," urged Mary's aunt, and then the girl left.

Mary's uncle, Barton Keith, with whom Tom Swift had been

associated during the undersea search, had offices in the

Landmark Building, but his home was in an adjoining suburb.

The girl was pleased with the results of her shopping, and at

the close of the afternoon she stopped at the Landmark Building

and was soon being shot up in the elevator to the floor where

Barton Keith had his offices.

Though Mr. Keith had refrained from investing in the Landmark

Building and though he laughed at Mary's Uncle Jasper for having

done so, this did not prevent him from having a suite of offices

in the big structure which, as we already know, was owned in

large part by Field and Melling.

"Ah, Mary! Come in!" exclaimed Mr. Keith, welcoming Tom Swift's

sweetheart. "It is so late I was afraid you weren't coming, and I

was about to close the office and go home."

"You must blame the bargain sales for my delay," laughed Mary.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting."

"No, I still had a few things to do. One was to write a letter

to your Uncle Jasper, telling him I had heard of another fire

trap that was open to investors."

"Oh, and that reminds me I must tell you not to push Uncle

Jasper too far!" warned Mary.

"Ha! Ha!" laughed Uncle Barton. "He made fun of me for going on

the undersea search with Tom Swift. But I made good on that, and

that's more than he can say about his Landmark Building deal!"

"But don't exasperate him too much!" begged Mary. "By the way,

what are they doing to this building? I see the stairways and

some of the elevator shafts all littered with building material."

"They are trying to make it fireproof," answered her uncle.

"It's rather late to try that now, but they've got either to do

it or stand a big increase in insurance rates. I'm glad I'm out

of it. But now, Mary, take an easy chair until I finish some

work, and then I'll walk out with you.

Mary took a seat near one of the front windows, whence she

could look down into the now fast-darkening streets. She could

see the supper crowds hurrying home, and out in the corridor of

the big skyscraper could be heard the banging of elevator doors

as the office tenants, one after another, left for the day.

Suddenly there was more commotion than usual, followed by the

sound of broken glass. Then came a cry of:

"Fire! Fire!"

Mary sprang to her feet with a gasp of alarm, and her uncle

rushed past her to the door leading into the hall outside his

offices. As he opened the door a cloud of smoke rushed toward him

and Mary, causing them to choke and gasp.

Mr. Keith closed the door a moment, and when he opened it again

the smoke in the hall seemed less dense.

"It probably is only a slight blaze among some of the material

the workmen are using," he said. "Come, Mary, we'll get out."

Pausing only to swing shut the door of his heavy safe and to

stuff some valuable papers into his pocket, Mr. Keith advanced

and, taking Mary by the arm, led her into the hall. The smoke was

increasing again, and distant shouts and cries could be heard,

mingled with the breaking of glass.

Mr. Keith rang the elevator buzzer several times, but when no

car came up the shaft in response to his summons he turned to his

niece and said:

"We'll try the stairs. It's only ten stories down, and going

down isn't anything like coming up."

"Oh, indeed I can walk!" said Mary. "Let's hurry out!"

They turned toward the stairway, which wound around the

elevator shafts, but such a cloud of hot, stifling smoke rolled

up that it sent them back, choking and gasping for breath.

And then, as they stood there, up the elevator shafts, which

were veritable chimneys, came more hot smoke, mingled with sparks

of fire.

"Trapped!" gasped Mr. Keith, and he pulled Mary back toward his

offices to get away from the choking, stifling smoke. "We're

trapped!"

CHAPTER XXIII

TO THE RESCUE

"Uncle! Uncle Barton!" faltered Mary, as she clung to Mr.

Keith. "Can't we get down the stairs?"

"I'm afraid not, Mary," he answered, and he closed the door of

his office to keep out the smoke that was ever increasing.

"And won't the elevators come for us?"

"They don't seem able to get up," was his reply. "Probably the

fire started in the bottom of the shafts, and they act just like

flues, drawing up the flames and smoke."

"Then we must try the fire escapes!" exclaimed Mary, and she

started toward the front window, pulling her uncle across the

room after her.

"Mary, there aren't--aren't any fire escapes!" he said

hoarsely.

"No fire escapes!" The girl turned paler than before.

"No, not an escape as far as I know. You see, this was thought

to be a fireproof building at first and small attention was given

to escapes. Then the law stepped in and the owners were ordered

to put up regular escapes. They have started the work, but just

now the old escapes have been torn down and the new ones are not

yet in place."

"Oh, but Uncle Barton! can't we do something?" cried Mary.

"There must be some way out! Let's try the elevators again, or

the stairs!"

Before Mr. Keith could stop her Mary had opened the door into

the hall. To the agreeable surprise of her uncle there seemed to

be less smoke now.

"We may have a chance!" he cried, and he rushed out. "Hurry!"

Frantically he pushed the button that summoned the elevators.

Down below, in the elevator shafts, could be heard the roar and

crackle of flames.

"Let's try the stairs!" suggested Mary. "They seem to be free

now."

She started down the staircase which went in square turns about

the battery of elevators, and her uncle followed. But they had

not more than reached the first landing when a roll of black,

choking smoke, mingled with sparks of fire, surged into their

faces.

"Back, Mary! Back!" cried Mr. Keith, and he dragged the

impetuous girl with him to their own corridor, and back into his

offices which, for the time being, were comparatively free from

the choking vapor.

"We must try the windows, Uncle Barton! We must!" cried Mary.

"Surely there is some way down--maybe by dropping from ledge to

ledge!"

Her uncle shook his head. Then he opened the window and looked

out. As he did so there arose from the streets below the cries of

many voices, mingled with the various sounds of fire apparatus --

the whistles of engines, the clang of gongs, and the puffing of

steamers.

"The firemen are here! They'll save us!" cried Mary, as she

heard the noises in the street below. "We can leap into the life

nets."

"There isn't a life net made, nor men who could retain it, to

hold up a person jumping from the tenth story," said her uncle.

"Our only chance is to wait for them to subdue the fire."

"Isn't there a back way down, Uncle Barton?" "No, Mary!" He

closed the window for, open as it was, the draft created served

to suck smoke into the office, and Mary was coughing.

Uncle and niece faced each other. Trapped indeed they were,

unless the fire, which was now raging all through the building,

with the stairs and elevator shafts as a center. could be

subdued. That the city fire department was doing its best was not

to be doubted.

"We can only wait--and hope," said Mr. Keith solemnly.

Mary gave a gasp. Her uncle thought she was going to burst into

tears, but she bravely conquered herself and faced him with what

was meant to be a smile. But it is difficult to smile with

quivering lips, and Mary soon gave up the attempt.

Mr. Keith went over to the water cooler--one of those inverted

large glass bottles--and looked to see how much water it

contained.

"It's nearly full," he said.

"What good will it do?" asked Mary. "This fire is beyond a

little water like that."

"Yes, but it will serve to keep our handkerchiefs wet so we can

breathe through them if the smoke gets too thick," was his reply.

"It begins to look as if we'd need to try that soon," said

Mary, and she pointed to thick smoke curling in under the door.

"Yes," agreed her uncle. "It's getting worse." Hardly had he

spoken when there came a rush of feet in the corridor outside his

office door. Then a voice exclaimed:

"We're trapped! We can't get down either the stairs or the

elevators!"

"It can't be possible!" said another voice. "Something must be

done! Help! Help! Take us out of here!"

"Foolish cowards!" murmured Mr. Keith, and then the door of his

office was violently opened and two men rushed in. They were

strangers to Mary and her uncle.

"Isn't there any way out of this fire trap?" cried one of the

men. "Are there any fire escapes at your windows?"

"None," said Mr. Keith.

"This is all your fault, Melling!" cried the smaller of the two

men, whose voice, in loudness and depth of pitch, was out of all

proportion to his size. "All your fault! I told you we should

have those new fire escapes!"

"And you were the one, Field, who objected to the cost of fire

escapes when you found what the charge would be," retorted the

other. "You said we didn't need to waste that money, if the

building was fire-proof."

"But it isn't, Melling! It isn't!" yelled the other.

"We're finding that out too late!" came the retort. "But I'm

not going to die here like a rat in a trap!" And he raised the

window and leaned out and yelled, "Help! Help! Help!"

"Don't do that," said Mr. Keith, coming over to close the

casement. "They can't hear you down below, and opening the window

will only fill this place with smoke. Are you Field and Melling?"

"Yes, of the Consolidated Dye Company," was the answer from the

big man. "We are also part owners of this building, but I wish we

weren't."

"It is a pretty poor specimen of a modern building," said Mr.

Keith. "You have offices here, haven't you?" he went on. "I

remember to have seen your names on the directory."

"We're on the floor above," was the answer from Field. "We were

in a rear room, going over some accounts, and we didn't know

anything was wrong until we smelled smoke. We tried to get down,

and managed to come, by way of the stairs, as far as this floor,"

he explained quickly.

"You can't go any farther," said Mr. Keith. "All there is to do

is to wait for the firemen."

"Suppose they never come?" whined Melling. "Oh, they'll come!"

asserted Mary's uncle, but he spoke more to quiet her alarm than

because he really believed it, for the Landmark Building was a

seething furnace of flame centering in and about the elevator

shafts and stairs.

Meanwhile Tom and his companions in the airship had seen the

red glow in the evening sky, and in another minute the young

inventor had turned his craft more directly toward it.

"It surely is in Newmarket," said Mr. Damon. "Right in the

center of the city, too. There's one big building there--the

Landmark."

"Looks as if that was afire," said Ned quickly. "Hasn't some

relative of Mary's an office there, Tom?"

"Yes. Mr. Keith. And her other uncle, Jasper Blake, is also

interested in the building. It's the Landmark all right!" cried

Tom, as his craft rose higher and advanced nearer the blaze.

"What are you going to do?" yelled Mr. Damon, as he saw the

young inventor head directly toward a spouting mushroom of flame,

which showed that the fire had broken through the roof. "What are

you going to do?"

"Go to the rescue!" answered Tom Swift. "I couldn't ask a

better opportunity to try my new extinguisher! Sit tight, every

one!"

CHAPTER XXIV

A STRANGE DISCOVERY

Once it became evident to the occupants of the airship what Tom

Swift's plans were, they all prepared to help him. Previous to

the trip certain duties had been assigned to each one, duties

which were to be exercised when Tom gave the exhibition of his

new aerial fire-fighting apparatus at the set fire before the

fire department of Denton.

This preparation now stood the young inventor in good stead,

for there was no confusion aboard the Lucifer when she winged her

way toward the burning Landmark Building, where the flames were

continually spouting higher and higher as they rushed through the

roof, directly above the stairway well and elevator shafts.

So far the flames had confined themselves to this central part

of the big structure, but it was only a question of time when

they would spread out on all sides, licking up the remainder of

the pile. And, for the most part, the firemen on the ground were

at a great disadvantage.

They had run in lines as near as they could get to the center

of the blaze, and had also attached hose to the standpipes inside

the building. But this last effort was wasted, as developed

later, for there was no one in the building to direct the nozzle

ends of the hose attached to the standpipes on the different

floors. Also the fierce heat fairly melted the pipes themselves

in the vicinity of the elevator shafts, and there was no

automatic sprinkling system in the building.

This was the situation, then, when Tom in his airship loaded

with fire-extinguishing chemicals headed for the blaze. And this,

also, was the desperate situation that confronted Mary Nestor and

her uncle, Barton Keith, as well as Amos Field and Jason Melling.

Those unscrupulous and cowardly men were in a veritable panic of

fear, which contrasted strangely with the calm, resigned attitude

of Mary and her uncle.

"We must get out! Some one must save us!" yelled Field.

"Jump from the window!" cried Melling.

"No, I can't permit that!" declared Mr. Keith, standing in

their path. "It would be sure death! As it is, there may be a

chance."

"A chance? How?" asked Field. "Listen to that!"

Through the closed door of Mr. Keith's office could be heard

the roar and crackle of flames, while the very air was now

stifling and hot, filled with acrid smoke.

"We can only wait," said Mr. Keith, and he wet Mary's

handkerchief in the water and handed it to her to bind over her

face.

"Is everything all right, Ned?" called Tom, as he turned on a

little more power, so that the Lucifer lunged ahead toward the

great pillar of fire that now reddened the sky for miles around.

"All ready," was the answer. "You only have to give the word

when you want us to let go."

"Let go!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my umbrella, Tom! We don't

have to jump out, do we?"

"He means to let go the extinguisher grenades," said Mr.

Baxter. "Shall we let them all go at once, Tom?" asked the

chemist.

"No, drop half when I shoot over the first time. We'll see what

effect they have, and then come back with the rest."

"That's the idea!" cried Ned. "Well, give us the word when

you're ready, Tom."

"I will," was the answer of the young inventor, and with keen

eyes he began to set the automatic gages so those in charge of

the grenades would be able to drop them most effectively.

The flames were mounting higher and higher above the ill-fated

Landmark Building. It was a "land-mark" now, for miles around--a

fearsome mark, indeed.

"I hope every one is out of the place," said Ned, as the

airship approached nearer and the fierceness of the fire was more

manifest.

"Bless my thermometer, you're right!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "I

don't see how any one could live in that furnace."

Seen from above it appeared that the fire was engulfing the

whole building, while, as a matter of fact, only the central

portion was yet blazing. But it was only a question of time when

the remainder would ignite.

And it was to this fact--that the fire was rushing up the

stairway and elevator shafts as up a chimney--that Mary and her

uncle, as well as Field and Melling, owed their temporary safety.

Had Tom known that the girl he loved was in such direful

danger, it is doubtful if his hand would have been as steady as

it was on throttle and steering wheel. But not a muscle or nerve

quivered. To Tom it was but carrying out a prearranged task. He

was going to extinguish a great blaze, or attempt to do so, by

means of his aerial fire-fighting apparatus. And his previous

tests had given him confidence in his device. His one regret was

that the fire department of the city that was contemplating the

purchase of certain rights in his invention could not witness

what he was about to do.

"But they'll hear of it," declared Ned, when Tom voiced this

idea to his chum.

Nearer and nearer to the up-spouting column of flames the

airship winged her way. Tense and alert, Tom sat at the wheel

guiding his craft with her load of fire-defying chemicals. Behind

him were Ned, Mr. Damon and Mr. Baxter, ready to drop the

grenades at the word.

"Getting close, Tom!" called Ned, as they could all feel the

heat of the conflagration in the Landmark Building, which now

seemed doomed.

"You'll not dare cross it too low down, will you?"

"No, I'll have to keep pretty well up," was the answer.

"There's a current of air over that fire which might turn us

turtle."

Heat creates a draft, sucking in colder air from below, and

making an upward-rushing column which, in the case of a big

blaze, is very powerful. Tom knew he had to avoid this.

It was now almost time to act. In another few seconds they

would be sailing directly into the path of the up-spouting

flames. Realizing that to do this at too low an elevation would

result in disaster, Tom sent his craft upward at a sharp angle.

Then he turned to call to his companions.

"Be ready when I give the word!"

"All set and ready!" answered Ned, and the others signified

their attention to the command that soon was to be given.

Having attained what he considered a sufficient elevation, Tom

headed the Lucifer straight toward the up-spouting column of fire

and smoke. If ever his craft of the air was to justify her name

it was now!

Straight and true as an arrow she headed for the fiery pillar!

Hotter and hotter grew the air! The darkness of the night was

lighted by the awful fire, which rendered objects in the street

clear and distinct. But Tom and his friends had little time for

such observation.

"Get ready!" cried the young inventor, as he felt a rush of

heat across his face, partly protected, as it was, by great

goggles.

"All ready!" shouted Ned.

"Let go!" cried Tom, and with a click of springs the fire

extinguishers dropped from the bottom of the Lucifer into the

very heart of the flames in the Landmark Building.

There was a blast as from a furnace seventy times heated, a

choking and gasping for breath on the part of the occupants of

the airship, a shriveling, as it seemed, of the naked flesh, and

then, when it appeared that all of them must be engulfed in the

great heat, the airship passed out of the zone of fire.

A rush of cool air followed, reviving them all, and then, when

out of the swirls of smoke, Ned, looking back, cried:

"Good work, Tom! Good work!"

"Did we hit it?" cried the young inventor. "She's half gone!"

declared Mr. Baxter. "Can you give her the rest of the load?"

"I'm going to try!" declared Tom.

"Bless my bank balance!" shouted Mr. Damon, "are we going

through that awful furnace again?"

"It will not be so bad this time," observed Ned. "The fire is

half out now. Tom's stuff did the trick!"

Indeed it was evident, as Tom sent the Lucifer around in a

sharp turn, that the fire had been largely smothered by the gas

that now lay over it like a wet blanket. But there was still some

fire spouting up.

"Give her all we have!" yelled Tom, as, once more, he prepared

to cross the zone of fire.

"Right," sang out Ned.

Once more the Lucifer swept over the burning building. Down

shot the remaining grenades, falling into the mass of flames and

bursting, though the reports could not be heard because of the

tumult in the streets below. For the firemen and spectators had

seen the sudden dying down of the fire, they had caught sight of

a shadowy shape in the night, hovering over the blazing building,

and they wondered what it all meant.

"How is it?" asked Tom, as he guided the craft back to get a

view of his work.

"That settles it!" answered Ned. "There isn't fire enough now

to broil a beefsteak!"

This was not exactly true, for the blaze was not entirely

subdued. But the flames had all been killed off in the higher

parts of the Landmark Building, and what remained could easily be

dealt with by the firemen on the ground. They proceeded to make

short work of the remainder of the conflagration, the while

wondering who had so effectively aided them from the clouds.

"Well," observed Tom, as he saw how effectively he had

smothered the great fire, "it's of no use to go on now. I haven't

an ounce of chemical left on board. I can't give the

demonstration that I planned for tomorrow."

"You've given a better demonstration here than you ever could

have in the other city," declared Mr. Baxter. "I fancy this will

be all the test needed, Tom Swift!"

"Perhaps. I hope so. But we may as well land and see from the

ground the effect of our work. I'd also like to inquire if any

one was hurt. Let's go down."

It was rather ticklish work, making a landing in the midst of a

populous city, and at night. But as it happened, there had been a

number of buildings razed in the vicinity of the Landmark

structure, and there was a large, vacant level space. Also

several of the city's fire department searchlights were focused

around the burning structure, and when it became evident that an

airship was going to land--though as yet none guessed whose it

was--the searchlights were turned on the vacant spot and Tom was

able to make a good landing, his own powerful searchlight giving

effective aid.

"What did you do that put out the fire?" demanded the chief of

the Newmarket department, as he rushed up with a crowd of others

when Tom and his friends alighted.

"I dropped a few grenades down that chimney," modestly answered

the young inventor.

"A few grenades! Say, you must have turned a whole river of

them loose!" cried the delighted chief. "It doused the fire

quicker than I ever saw one put out in all my life!"

"I'm glad I was successful," said Tom. "But was any one in the

building?"

"Yes, a few," answered a policeman, who was trying to keep the

crowd back from the airship. "They're bringing them out now."

"Killed?" gasped Tom.

"No. But some of them are badly hurt," the officer answered.

"There was one young lady and a man named Barton Keith--"

"Barton Keith!" shouted Tom, springing forward. "Was he--Who

was the young lady? I--I--"

But at that moment there was a stir in the crowd about the

building, in which only a little fire flow remained, and through

the throng came a disheveled and smoke-blackened young lady and a

man whose clothing was also greatly disarrayed.

"Mary!" cried the young inventor.

"Tom!" gasped Mary Nestor. "How did you get here?"

"I came to put out the fire," was the answer, and Tom cooled

down now that he saw Mary was unharmed. "How did you happen to be

in the building?"

"I was in Uncle Barton's office when the fire broke out,"

answered Mary, "and we were trapped. We had to stay there, with

two men from the floor above."

"Yes, and if they had stayed with us they wouldn't have been

hurt," said Mr. Keith. "But, as it was, they rushed out and tried

to get down the stairs. They were caught in the draft and badly

burned, I believe. They are bringing them out now."

Two stretchers, on which lay inert forms, were borne through

the now silent crowd by firemen and police officers, and taken to

waiting ambulances.

"That's Field and Melling," said Mr. Keith to Tom. "They had

offices just above me, and they were trapped, as were Mary and I.

They acted like big cowards, too, though I hope they're not badly

hurt. We stayed inside my office, and we were just giving up the

hope of rescue when the fire seemed suddenly to die down."

"I should say it was sudden!" cried the enthusiastic local

chief. "It was the chemicals from this young man's airship that

did the trick!"

"Oh, Tom, was it your new machine?" asked Mary.

"Yes," was the answer. "I was on my way to give a test tomorrow

in Denton when I saw this fire. I didn't know you were in it,

though, Mary."

"Oh, but I'm glad you came," she said. "It was just--awful!"

and she clung to Tom's arm, trembling.

When Field and Melling, whose rash conduct had caused them to

be severely but not fatally burned, had been taken to a hospital

and the fire was declared to be practically out, Tom made

arrangements to leave his airship in the city field all night.

"And you and your friends can come to Uncle Jasper's house,"

said Mary.

"Of course!" said Uncle Jasper himself, who had arrived on the

scene, attracted to the fire by the news that his niece and Mr.

Keith were in danger. "Lots of room! Come along! We'll celebrate

your rescue

So the crew of the fire-fighting Lucifer went with Mary, while

the firemen, after again thanking Tom most enthusiastically, kept

on playing, as a precaution, their streams of water on the still

hot building.

Only the central portion of the structure, the stairs and

elevator shafts, were burned away. The strong upward draft had

kept the fire from spreading much to either side.

"It certainly was a fierce blaze, and I'm glad my chemicals

took such prompt effect," said Tom. "I shall not fear any test

after this."

It was the day following the night of excitement, and Tom and

his friends, at the invitation of the fire department of

Newmarket, were inspecting what was left of the Landmark Building

--and there was considerable left--though access to the upper

floors was to be had only by ladders, down which Mary and her

uncle, Barton Keith, had been carried.

"Here are my offices," said Mr. Keith, who accompanied Tom,

Ned, Mr. Damon and Mr. Baxter, as he ushered them into his suite

of rooms.

"Bless my fountain pen! nothing is burned here," cried the

eccentric man.

"No, the flames just shot upward," explained the fire chief,

who was leading the party. "But I think those chemicals of yours

would have been just as effective, Mr. Swift, if the fire had

mushroomed out more."

"It was hot enough as it was," answered Tom, with a grim laugh.

"Bless my thermometer, too hot--too hot by far!" exclaimed Tom

Swift's eccentric friend, and to this Ned nodded an amused

agreement.

An exclamation from Mr. Baxter attracted the attention of all

in Mr. Keith's office. The chemist picked up from the floor a

bundle of papers.

"Here is a bundle of documents that some one has dropped, Mr.

Keith," he said. "I guess you forgot to put it in your safe. Why

--why--no--they aren't yours! They're mine. Here are my missing

dye formulae! The secret papers I've been searching for so long!

The ones I thought Field and Melling had!" cried Mr. Baxter.

"How--how did they get here?" and, wonderingly, he looked at the

bundle of papers he had discovered in such a strange manner.

CHAPTER XXV

THE LIGHT OF DAY

"What's that? Your dye formulae here in my office?" cried Mr.

Keith, for he had heard something of the chemist's loss, though

he did not directly associate Field and Melling with it.

"That's what this is! The very papers, containing all the rare

secrets, for which I have been so at a loss!" cried the delighted

old man. "Now I can give to the world the dyes for which it has

long been waiting! Oh, Tom Swift, you did more than you knew when

you put out this fire!" and he hugged the bundle of smoke-

smelling papers to his breast.

"But how did they get here?" asked the young inventor. "I know

that Field and Melling had offices in this building. They were

starting a new dye concern, and, though Mr. Baxter and I

suspected them of having stolen his secret, we couldn't prove

it."

"But we can now!" cried Mr. Baxter. "Though I don't know that

I'll bother even to accuse them, as long as I have back my

previous papers. I see how it happened. They had the formulae in

their office. They rushed out with the documents, and, when they

found they couldn't get past this floor, they went into Mr.

Keith's office. There, in their excitement, they dropped the

papers, and you put the fire out just in time, Tom, or they'd

have been burned beyond hope of saving. You have given me back

something almost as valuable as life, Tom Swift!"

"I'm glad I could render you that service," said the young

inventor. "And I had no idea, when I dropped the chemicals, that

I was saving someone even more valuable than your secret

formulae," and they all knew he referred to Mary Nestor.

An examination of the papers found on Mr. Keith's office floor

showed that not one of the dye secrets was missing. Thus Mr.

Baxter came into possession of his own again, and when Field and

Melling were sufficiently recovered they were charged with the

theft of the papers. The charge was proved, and, in addition,

other accusations were brought against them which insured their

remainder in jail for a considerable period.

As Mr. Baxter had suspected, Field and Melling had, indeed,

robbed him of his dye formulae papers. They learned that he

possessed them, and they invited him to a night conference with

the purpose of robbing him. The fire in their factory was an

accident, of which they took advantage to make it appear that the

chemist lost his papers in the blaze. But they had taken them,

and though they did not mean to leave poor Baxter to his fate,

that would have been the result of their selfish action had not

Tom and Ned come to the rescue. And it was of this "putting over"

that Field and Melling had boasted, the time Tom overheard their

talk at Meadow Inn.

As Mr. Baxter guessed, the letter delivered to him at Tom's

place was one that the two scoundrels would have retained, as

they had others like it, if they had seen it. But a new clerk

forwarded it, and the evidence it contained helped to convict

Field and Melling.

As for the Landmark Building, while badly damaged, it would

have been worse burned but for Tom's prompt action. And though he

was more than glad that he had been on hand, he rather regretted

that he could not give the test for which he had set out.

Eventually the building was made more nearly fire-proof and the

fire-escapes were rebuilt, and Mr. Blake did not lose his money,

as he had feared, though Barton Keith said it was more owing to

Tom Swift's good luck than to Mr. Blake's management.

But, as it developed, nothing could have been more opportune

than Tom's action, for word of his quenching a bigger blaze than

he would have had to encounter in the official test reached the

Denton fire department. As a result there was a conference, and,

after only a nominal showing of his apparatus, it was adopted by

a unanimous vote.

But this occurred some time afterward, for, following his

rescue of Mary Nestor and her uncle and the saving of the lives

of Field and Melling, as well as others in the building, by his

prompt smothering of the fire, Tom returned to Shopton.

He and his companions went in the Lucifer, minus, now, the big

load of chemicals, and on landing near the hangar Tom was

surprised to see Koku the giant running toward him. The big man

showed every symptom of great excitement as he cried:

"Oh, Master Tom! He see the light ob day! he see the light ob

day now! Oh, so glad! So glad!"

"Who sees the light of day?" asked the young inventor.

"Black Rad! Eradicate! Him eyes all better now! Pill man take

off cloth. Rad--he see light ob day!"

"Oh, I'm so glad! So thankful!" cried Tom. "How I've wished for

this! Is it really true, Koku?"

"Sure true! Pill man say Rad see K O now." The giant,

doubtless, meant "O K," but Tom understood. And it was true, as

he learned more directly a little later.

When Tom entered the room where Rad had been kept in the dark

ever since the explosion, the colored man looked at his master

with seeing eyes, though the apartment was still but dimly

lighted.

"I's all right ag'in now, Massa Tom!" cried Rad. "See fine! I's

all ready to make more smellin' stuff to put out fires!"

"You won't have to, Rad!" cried Tom joyfully. "My chemical

extinguisher is completed, and you did your share in making it a

success. But I never would have felt like claiming credit for it

if you had been--had been left in the dark."

"No mo' dark, Massa Tom!" said Eradicate. "I kin see now as

good as eber, an' yo'-all won't hab to 'pend on dat lazy good-

fo'-nuffin cocoanut!" and he chuckled as he looked at the giant.

"Huh! Lazy!" retorted the big man. "I show you--black coon!"

"By golly!" laughed Rad. "Him an' me good friends now, Massa

Tom. Neber I fuss wif Koku any mo'! He suah was good to me when I

had to stay in de dark!"

Of course it would be too much to hope that Koku and Eradicate

never again quarreled, but for a long time their warm friendship

was a thing at which to marvel, considering the past.

"Well, I guess this settles it," said Tom to Ned one day, after

going over the day's mail.

"Settles what, Tom?"

"My aerial fire-fighting apparatus. Here's word from the

National Fire Underwriters Association that they have adopted it,

and there will be a big reduction of rates in all cities where it

is a part of the fire department equipment. It's been as great a

success as Mr. Baxter's new dye."

"Yes, and he has had wonderful success with that. But what are

you going to do now, Tom? What new line of endeavor are you going

to aim at?"

Tom arose and reached for his hat.

"I am now going," he said, with a grin, "to see somebody on

private business."

"You are going to see Mary Nestor!" broke out Ned.

"I am," said Tom.

And he did.

End of Apparatus Library's Etext of Tom Swift Among The Fire Fighters

THE TOM SWIFT SERIES

By VICTOR APPLETON

Uniform Style of Binding. Individual Colored Wrappers.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

Every boy possesses some form of inventive genius. Tom Swift is

a bright, ingenious boy and his inventions and adventures make

the most interesting kind of reading.

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS

TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE

TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER

TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON

TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AERIAL WARSHIP

TOM SWIFT AND HIS BIG TUNNEL

TOM SWIFT IN THE LAND OF WONDERS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS WAR TANK

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS UNDERSEA SEARCH

TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC LOCOMOTIVE

TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING BOAT

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT OIL GUSHER

TOM SWIFT AND HIS CHEST OF SECRETS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRLINE EXPRESS

THE DON STURDY SERIES

By VICTOR APPLETON

Individual Colored Wrappers and Text Illustrations by

WALTER S. ROGERS

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

In company with his uncles, one a mighty hunter and the other a

noted scientist, Don Sturdy travels far and wide, gaining much

useful knowledge and meeting many thrilling adventures.

DON STURDY ON THE DESERT OF MYSTERY;

An engrossing tale of the Sahara Desert, of encounters with

wild animals and crafty Arabs.

DON STURDY WITH THE BIG SNAKE HUNTERS;

Don's uncle, the hunter, took an order for some of the biggest

snakes to be found in South America--to be delivered alive!

DON STURDY IN THE TOMBS OF GOLD;

A fascinating tale of exploration and adventure in the Valley

of Kings in Egypt.

DON STURDY ACROSS THE NORTH POLE;

A great polar blizzard nearly wrecks the airship of the

explorers.

DON STURDY IN THE LAND OF VOLCANOES;

An absorbing tale of adventures among the volcanoes of Alaska.

DON STURDY IN THE PORT OF LOST SHIPS;

This story is just full of exciting and fearful experiences on

the sea.

DON STURDY AMONG THE GORILLAS;

A thrilling story of adventure in darkest Africa. Don is

carried over a mighty waterfall into the heart of gorilla land.

THE RADIO BOYS SERIES

(Trademark Registered)

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Author of the "Railroad Series," Etc.

Individual Colored Wrappers. Illustrated.

Every Volume Complete in itself.

A new series for boys giving full details of radio work, both in

sending and receiving--telling how small and large amateur sets

can be made and operated, and how some boys got a lot of fun and

adventure out of what they did. Each volume from first to last is

so thoroughly fascinating, so strictly up-to-date and accurate,

we feel sure all lads will peruse them with great delight.

Each volume has a Foreword by Jack Binns, the well-known radio

expert.

THE RADIO BOYS' FIRST WIRELESS

THE RADIO BOYS AT OCEAN POINT

THE RADIO BOYS AT THE SENDING STATION

THE RADIO BOYS AT MOUNTAIN PASS

THE RADIO BOYS TRAILING A VOICE

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE FOREST RANGERS

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE ICEBERG PATROL

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE FLOOD FIGHTERS

THE RADIO BOYS ON SIGNAL ISLAND

THE RADIO BOYS IN GOLD VALLEY

THE RAILROAD SERIES

By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Author of the "Radio Boys," Etc.

Uniform Style of Binding, illustrated.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

In this line of books there is revealed the whole workings of a

great American railroad system. There are adventures in

abundance--railroad wrecks, dashes through forest fires, the

pursuit of a "wildcat" locomotive, the disappearance of a pay car

with a large sum of money on board--but there is much more than

this--the intense rivalry among railroads and railroad men, the

working out of running schedules, the getting through "on time"

in spite of all obstacles, and the manipulation of railroad

securities by evil men who wish to rule or ruin.

RALPH OF THE ROUND HOUSE;

Or, Bound to Become a Railroad Man.

RALPH IN THE SWITCH TOWER;

Or, Clearing the Track.

RALPH ON THE ENGINE;

Or, The Young Fireman of the Limited Mail.

RALPH ON THE OVERLAND EXPRESS;

Or, The Trials and Triumphs of a Young Engineer.

RALPH, THE TRAIN DISPATCHER;

Or, the Mystery of the Pay Car.

RALPH ON THE ARMY TRAIN;

Or, The Young Railroader's Most Daring Exploit.

RALPH ON THE MIDNIGHT FLYER;

Or, The Wreck at Shadow Valley.

RALPH AND THE MISSING MAIL POUCH;

Or, The Stolen Government Bonds.

THE RIDDLE CLUB BOOKS

By ALICE DALE HARDY

Individual Colored Wrappers. Attractively Illustrated.

Every Volume Complete in Itself.

Here is as ingenious a series of books for little folks as has

ever appeared since "Alice in Wonderland." The idea of the Riddle

books is a little group of children--three girls and three boys

decide to form a riddle club. Each book is full of the adventures

and doings of these six youngsters, but as an added attraction

each book is filled with a lot of the best riddles you ever

heard.

THE RIDDLE CLUB AT HOME

An absorbing tale that all boys and girls will enjoy reading.

How the members of the club fixed up a clubroom in the Larue

barn, and how they, later on, helped solve a most mysterious

happening, and how one of the members won a valuable prize, is

told in a manner to please every young reader.

THE RIDDLE CLUB IN CAMP

The club members went into camp on the edge of a beautiful

lake. Here they had rousing good times swimming, boating and

around the campfire. They fell in with a mysterious old man known

as The Hermit of Triangle Island. Nobody knew his real name or

where he came from until the propounding of a riddle solved these

perplexing questions.

THE RIDDLE CLUB THROUGH THE HOLIDAYS

This volume takes in a great number of winter sports, including

skating and sledding and the building of a huge snowman. It also

gives the particulars of how the club treasurer lost the dues

entrusted to his care and what the melting of the great snowman

revealed.

THE RIDDLE CLUB AT SUNRISE BEACH

This volume tells how the club journeyed to the seashore and

how they not only kept up their riddles but likewise had good

times on the sand and on the water. Once they got lost in a fog

and are marooned on an island. Here they made a discovery that

greatly pleased the folks at home.

End.