Tom Swift Among the Diamond Makers Part 5

"We'll have a look!" exclaimed Tom. "Here, Rad, come over and scurry among those trees. We just saw some one sneaking around."

"I'll sure do dat!" cried the colored man. "Mebby it were somebody arter Boomerang! I'll find 'em."

"I don't believe it was any one after the mule," murmured Mr. Jenks, "but it certainly was some one--more likely some one after me."

The three made a hasty search among the trees, but the intruder had vanished, leaving no trace. They went out into the road, which the moon threw into bold relief along its white stretch, but there was no figure scurrying away.

"Whoever it was, is gone," spoke Tom. "You can go back to bed, Rad,"

for the colored man, of late, had been sleeping in a shack on the Swift premises.

"And I guess it's time for me to go, too," added Mr. Jenks. "I'll be here to-morrow night, Tom, and I hope your answer will be favorable."

Tom did not sleep well the remainder of the night, for his fitful slumbers were disturbed by dreams of enormous caves, filled with diamonds, with dark, shadowy figures trying to put him into a red-hot steel box. Once he awakened with a start, and put his hand under his pillow to feel if the two stones Mr. Jenks had given him, were still there. They had not been disturbed.

Tom made up his mind to find out if the stones were really diamonds, before saying anything to his father about the chance of going to seek Phantom Mountain. And the young inventor wished to get the opinion of some other jeweler than Mr. Track--at least, at first.

"Though if this one proves to be a good gem, I'll have Mr. Track set it in a brooch, and give it to Mary for her birthday," decided the young inventor. "Guess I'll take a run over to Chester in the b.u.t.terfly, and see what one of the jewelers there has to say."

In addition to his big airs.h.i.+p, Red Cloud, Tom owned a small, swift monoplane, which he called b.u.t.terfly. This had been damaged by Andy Foger just before Tom left on the trip that ended at Earthquake Island, but the monoplane had been repaired, and Andy had left town, not having returned since.

Telling his father that he was going off on a little business trip, which he often did in his aeroplane, Tom, with the aid of Mr. Jackson, the engineer, wheeled the b.u.t.terfly out of its shed.

Adjusting the mechanism, and seeing that it was in good shape, Tom took his place in one of the two seats, for the monoplane would carry two.

Mr. Jackson then spun the propellers, and, with a crackle and roar the motor started. Over the ground ran the dainty, little aeroplane, until, having momentum enough, Tom tilted the wing planes and the machine sailed up into the air.

Rising about a thousand feet, and circling about several times to test the wind currents, Tom headed his craft toward Chester, a city about fifty miles from Shopton. In his pocket, snugly tucked away, were the two stones Mr. Jenks had given him.

It was not long before Tom saw, looming up in the distance the church spires and towering factory chimneys of Chester, for his machine was a speedy one, and could make ninety miles an hour when driven. But now a slower speed satisfied our hero.

"I'll just drop down outside of the city," he reasoned, "for too much of a crowd gathers when I land in the street. Besides I might frighten horses, and then, too, it's hard to get a good start from the street.

I'll leave it in some barn until I want to go back."

Tom sent his craft down, in order to pick out a safe place for a landing. He was then over the suburbs of the city, and was following the line of a straight country road.

"Looks like a good place there," he murmured. "I'll shut off the motor, and vol-plane down."

Suiting the action to the word, Tom shut off his power. The little craft dipped toward the ground, but the lad threw up the forward planes, and caught a current of air that sent him skimming along horizontally.

As he got nearer to the ground, he saw the figure of a lad riding a bicycle along the country highway. Something about the figure struck Tom as being familiar, and he recognized the cyclist a moment later.

"It's Andy Foger!" said Tom, in a whisper. "I wondered where he had been keeping himself since he damaged the b.u.t.terfly. Evidently he doesn't dare venture back to Shopton. Well, here's where I give him a scare."

Tom's monoplane was making no more noise, now, than a soaring bird. He was gliding swiftly toward the earth, and, with the plan in his mind of administering some sort of punishment to the bully, he aimed the machine directly at him.

Nearer and nearer shot the monoplane, as quietly as a sheet of paper might fall. Andy pedaled on, never looking up nor behind him, A moment later, as Tom threw up his headplanes, to make his landing more easy, and just as he swooped down at one side of the cyclist, our hero let out a most alarming yell, right into Andy's ear.

"Now I've got you!" he shouted. "I'll teach you to slash my aeroplane!

Come with me!"

Andy gave one look at the white bird-like apparatus that had flown up beside him so noiselessly, and, being too frightened to recognize Tom's voice, must have thought that he had been overtaken by some supernatural visitor.

Andy gave a yell like an Indian, about to do a stage scalping act, and fairly dived over the handlebars of his bicycle, sprawling in a heap on the dusty road.

"I guess that will hold you for a while," observed Tom, grimly, as he put on the ground-brake and brought his monoplane to a stop not far from the fallen rider.

CHAPTER V--A MYSTERIOUS MAN

For several minutes Andy Foger did not arise. He remained prostrate in the dust, and Tom, observing him, thought perhaps the bully might have been seriously injured. But, a little later, Andy cautiously raised his head, and inquired in a frightened voice:

"Is it--is it gone?"

"Is what gone?" asked Tom, grimly.

At the sound of his voice, Andy looked up. "Was that you, Tom Swift?" he demanded. "Did you knock me off my wheel?"

"My monoplane and I together did," was the reply; "or, rather, we didn't. It was the nervous reaction caused by your fright, and the knowledge that you had done wrong, that made you jump over the handlebars. That's the scientific explanation."

"You--you did it!" stammered Andy, getting to his feet. He wasn't hurt much, Tom thought.

"Have it your own way," resumed our hero. "Did you think it was a hob-goblin in a chariot of fire after you, Andy?"

"Huh! Never mind what I thought! I'll have you arrested for this!"

"Will you? Delighted, as the boys say. Hop in my airs.h.i.+p and I'll take you right into town. And when I get you there I'll make a charge of malicious mischief against you, for breaking the propeller of the b.u.t.terfly and slas.h.i.+ng her wings. I've mended her up, however, so she goes better than ever, and I can take you to the police station in jig time. Want to come, Andy?"

This was too much for the bully. He knew that Tom would have a clear case against him, and he did not dare answer. Instead he shuffled over to where his wheel lay, picked it up, and rode slowly off.

"Good riddance," murmured Tom. He looked about, and saw that he was near a house, in the rear of which was a good-sized barn. "Guess I'll ask if I can leave the b.u.t.terfly there," he murmured, and, ringing the doorbell, he was greeted by a man.

"I'll pay you if you'll let me store my machine in the barn a little while, until I go into the city, and return," spoke the lad.

"Indeed, you're welcome to leave it there without pay," was the answer.

"I'm interested in airs.h.i.+ps, and, I'll consider it a favor if you'll let me look yours over while it's here."

Tom readily agreed, and a few minutes later he had caught a trolley going into the city. He was soon in one of the largest jewelry stores of Chester.

"I'd like to get an expert opinion as to whether or not those stones are diamonds," spoke Tom, to the polite clerk who came up to wait on him, and our hero handed over the two gems which Mr. Jenks had given him.

"I'm willing to pay for the apprais.e.m.e.nt, of course," the young inventor added, as he saw the clerk looking rather doubtfully at him, for Tom had on a rough suit, which he always donned when he flew in his monoplane.

"I'll turn them over to our Mr. Porter, a gem expert," said the clerk.

"Please be seated."

The young man disappeared into a private office with the stones, and Tom waited. He wondered if he was going to have his trouble for his pains.

Presently two elderly gentlemen came from the little room, on the gla.s.s door of which appeared the word "Diamonds."