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.








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.