Tom Swift and His Giant Cannon Part 13

"Bless my gaiters, yes!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"Well, we'll see if we can ferret him out!" spoke the officer as he took his leave.

Tom, Ned and the others talked the matter over at some length.

"I wonder if we could trace that man who rode away on the motor-cycle?"

said Ned.

"We'll try," decided Tom, energetically, and in the electric runabout, that had once performed such a service to his father's bank, the young inventor and his chum were soon traversing the road taken by the spy.

They got some traces of him--that is, several persons had seen him pa.s.s--but that was all. So they had to record one failure at least.

"I wonder if the General himself could have sent that letter?" mused Ned, as they returned home.

"What! To himself?" cried Tom, in amazement.

"He might have," went on Ned, coolly. "You see, Tom, he admits that he was jealous of you. Now what is there to prevent him from hiring someone to dope your powder, and then, to divert suspicion from himself, faking up a letter and inviting himself to the blowout."

"But if he did that--which I don't believe--why would he come when there was danger, in case his trick worked, of the whole place being blown to kingdom come."

"Ah, but you notice he didn't arrive until after danger of an explosion had pa.s.sed," commented Ned.

"Oh, pshaw!" cried Tom. "I don't take any stock in that theory."

"Well, maybe not," replied Ned. "But it's worth thinking about. I believe if General Waller could prevent you from inventing your big gun, he would."

The days that followed were busy ones for Tom. He worked on the powder problem from morning to night, scoring many failures and only a few successes. But he did not give up, and in the meanwhile drew tentative plans for the big gun.

One evening, after a hard day's work, he went to the library where his father was reading.

"Tom," said Mr. Swift, "do you remember that old fortune hunter, Alec Peterson, who wanted me to go into that opal mine scheme?"

"Yes, Dad. What about him? Has he found it?"

"No, he writes to say he reached the island safely, and has been working some time. He hasn't had any success yet in locating the mine; but he hopes to find it in a week or so."

"That's just like him," murmured Tom. "Well, Dad, if you lose the ten thousand dollars I guess I'll have to make it up to you, for it was on my account that you made the investment."

"Well, you're worth it, Tom," replied his father, with a smile.

CHAPTER XII

A POWERFUL BLAST

"Look out with that box, Koku! Handle it as though it contained a dozen eggs of the extinct great auk, worth about a thousand dollars apiece.

"Eradicate! Don't you dare stumble while you're carrying that tube. If you do, you'll never do it again!"

"By golly, Ma.s.sa Tom! I--I's gwine t' walk on mah tiptoes all de way!"

Thus Eradicate answered the young inventor, while the giant, Koku, who was carrying a heavy case, nodded his head to show that he understood the danger of his task.

"So you think you've got the right stuff this time, Tom?" asked Ned Newton.

"I'm allowing myself to hope so, Ned."

"Bless my woodpile!" cried Mr. Damon. "I--I really think I'm getting nervous."

It was one afternoon, about two weeks after Tom had made his first test of the new powder. Now, after much hard work, and following many other tests, some of which were more or less successful, he had reached the point where he believed he was on the threshold of success. He had succeeded in making a new explosive that, in the preliminary tests, in which only a small quant.i.ty was used, gave promise of being more powerful than any Tom had ever experimented with--his own or the product of some other inventor.

And his experiments had not always been harmless. Once he came within a narrow margin of blowing up the shop and himself with it, and on another occasion some of the slow-burning powder, failing to explode, had set ablaze a shack in which he was working.

Only for the prompt action of Koku, Tom might have been seriously injured. As it was he lost some valuable patterns and papers.

But he had gone on his way, surmounting failure after failure, until now he was ready for the supreme test. This was to be the explosion of a large quant.i.ty of the powder in a specially prepared steel tube of great thickness. It was like a miniature cannon, but, unlike the first small one, where the test had failed, this one would carry a special projectile, that would be aimed at an armor plate set up on a big hill.

Tom's hope was that this big blast would show such pressure in foot-tons, and give such muzzle velocity to the projectile, and at the same time such penetrating power, that he would be justified in taking it as the basis of his explosive, and using it in the big gun he intended to make.

The preliminaries had been completed. The special steel tube had been constructed, and mounted on a heavy carriage in a distant part of the Swift grounds. A section of armor plate, a foot and a half in thickness, had been set up at the proper distance. A new projectile, with a hard, penetrating point, had been made--a sort of miniature of the one Tom hoped to use in his giant cannon.

Now the young inventor and his friends were on their way to the scene of the test, taking the powder and other necessaries, including the primers, with them. Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon had some of the gauges to register the energy expended by the improvised cannon. There were charts to be filled in, and other details to be looked after.

"So General Waller won't be here?" remarked Ned, as they walked along, Tom keeping a watchful eye on Koku.

"No," was the reply. "He has gone back to Sandy Hook. He wrote that his health was better, and that he wanted to resume work on a new type of gun."

"I guess he's afraid you'll beat him out, Tom," laughed Ned. "You take my advice, and look out for General Waller."

"Nonsense! I say, Rad! Look out with those primers!"

"I'se lookin' out, Ma.s.sa Tom. Golly, I don't laik dis yeah job at all!

I--I guess I'd better be gittin' at dat whitewas.h.i.+n', Ma.s.sa Tom. Dat back fence suah needs a coat mighty bad."

"Never you mind about the whitewas.h.i.+ng, Rad. You just stick around here for a while. I may need you to sit on the cannon to hold it down."

"Sit on a cannon, Ma.s.sa Tom! Say, looky heah now! You jest take dese primary things from dish yeah c.o.o.n. I--I'se got t' go!"

"Why, what's the matter, Rad? Surely you're not afraid; are you?" and Tom winked at Ned.

"No, Ma.s.sa Tom, I'se not prezactly 'skeered, but I done jest 'membered dat I didn't gib mah mule Boomerang any oats t'day, an' he's suahly gwine t' be desprit mad at me fo' forgettin' dat. I--I'd better go!"

"Nonsense, Rad! I was only fooling. You can go as soon as we get to my private proving grounds, if you like. But you'll have to carry those primers, for all the rest of us have our hands full. Only be careful of 'em!"

"I--I will, Ma.s.sa Tom."

They kept on, and it was noticed that Mr. Damon gave nervous glances from time to time in the direction of Koku, who was carrying the box of powder. The giant himself, however, did not seem to know the meaning of fear. He carried the box, which contained enough explosive to blow them all into fragments, with as much composure as though it contained loaves of bread.