Читать книгу Tom Swift and his House on Wheels, or, A Trip to the Mountain of Mystery - Howard R Garis - Страница 6

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After all, Tom Swift had sense enough to take good-naturedly the chaffing to which Ned Newton subjected him.

The young inventor could not but admit that his latest invention, coupled with the fact that he and Mary Nestor had been more than ordinarily chummy recently, would lead to the suspicion that there might soon be a closer relationship between them than heretofore.

Mary and Tom had known each other a long time. Once her family and Tom were marooned on Earthquake Island, and Tom had managed, under great difficulties, to rig up machinery and send a wireless message. Mr. Nestor had held a great opinion of the young man’s ability and skill ever since.

“I’ll Honeymoon Lane you if I get hold of you!” threatened Tom as he and Ned left the shop where the House on Wheels was nearing completion.

Various matters occupied the attention of the two young men for the remainder of the day. Ned, charged with keeping track of the finances of the company, was busy with negotiations looking to the securing of manufacturing contracts that would keep the plant running. He was a little disappointed that the Cunningham proposition had been turned down, but he could but agree with Tom that to take a contract about which there was any suspicion of wrongdoing would be poor policy.

As for Tom Swift, once he saw that the chassis and upper structure of his new House on Wheels was nearing completion, he arranged with Mr. Jackson to get the new motor on the block for a test. This took until nearly night, and then Tom had things in shape for a preliminary tryout of the machinery the next day.

“No need to ask where you’re going, Tom,” chuckled Ned when, after the evening meal, which, as on many former occasions, he shared with the Swift family, he observed the young inventor getting out the electric runabout, the batteries of which were now fully charged.

“It’s none of your business where I’m going!” said Tom with a smile which took any possible sting from the words.

“Well, I’m on the same sort of errand,” commented the financial manager. “Mind if I take the roadster and give Helen a little spin?”

“Consider yourself a top and spin away!” chuckled Tom, and a little later he was on his way to see Mary Nestor while Ned piloted the small but speedy car in the direction of his sweetheart’s home.

“Well, Tom, what’s the latest news?” asked Mary when she had greeted him and they were seated on the porch.

“Oh, nothing much.” Tom decided not to tell her about the Cunningham matter or the discovery of the two men tampering with the motor. “The new House on Wheels is coming on pretty well, though.”

“That’s good. Am I to get a ride in it?”

“Of course!”

“Tell me about it,” she suggested, and Tom launched into an enthusiastic description of the interior of the new van-like vehicle, telling of the rooms, the electric stove, the little pantry and ice box until Mary exclaimed in delight:

“I can hardly wait until it’s finished!”

“Which won’t be long,” commented the young inventor. “If the motor tests out all right, and I think it will, all that remains to be done is to put it in place and see how the whole affair works—I mean whether I have designed it properly so that it will keep to the road at high speeds.”

Then they talked of other matters until some uneasy movements on the part of Mrs. Nestor, in the house, warned the young man that the hour was getting late and that he had better leave.

“I’ll see you to-morrow, Mary,” said Tom, as he started down the drive to where he had left the runabout.

“Yes—I guess so,” said Mary, and it was not until afterward that Tom noted and remembered the curious hesitancy in her voice. But now he was thinking of other matters.

It was when he was half way along the road that lay between Mary’s house and his own home that, passing along a lonely stretch of highway at moderate speed, Tom saw, thrown across the road in front of him, in bold relief by the brilliant rays of the moon, a gesticulating shadow of a man.

The shadow was waving its arms as though in signal to the oncoming motorist to stop, and when Tom sensed this he began to be uneasy and was about to press the lever that would give him full speed ahead.

“I’m not going to be fooled by any trick!” he murmured. “There have been too many hold-ups of late along this road. And if it isn’t a hold-up it may be another attempt by Cunningham to annoy me. Look out there!” he yelled as the signaling figure and its accompanying shadow took the middle of the road. “Out of my way or I’ll run you down!”

“Bless my accident policy, don’t do that!” cried a voice.

For Tom the reaction was so great that his hand slipped from the electric speed lever, unconsciously pulling it toward the stop notch, and the runabout began to slow down.

“Mr. Damon!” cried Tom. “Is that you?”

“That’s my name,” said the voice of the man and he and his shadow both stepped to one side as the electric car rolled up and came to a stop, with the application of brakes, opposite him. “Thanks for picking me up. I don’t know you, and I’m surprised that you could recognize me in the darkness, but——”

“Oh, you know me, too!” chuckled Tom, and then the man cried:

“Bless my opera glasses! It’s Tom Swift!”

“Of course!” agreed the owner of that name.

“Well, how in the world did you hear of my accident and come to get me?” asked Mr. Wakefield Damon, for he it was. “Bless my carburetor, but this is remarkable!”

“I didn’t hear of any accident,” said Tom, “and I’m sorry to learn that you have been in one. I just happened to come past this way. At first, I thought you were a highwayman. But when I heard you bless your accident policy I knew you.”

“It’s lucky I spoke promptly!” chuckled the eccentric man.

“What happened?” asked Tom, as he made room for his friend on the seat beside him. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, no. But my auto stalled about two miles back and I couldn’t get it going. There wasn’t any garage near, and I hated to go to some strange house, rouse them and ask to use the telephone to have a towing car come out to get me. So I started to walk, thinking I might meet some kind-hearted motorist. I never dreamed you would come by.”

“It was just chance,” said Tom. “But what’s the matter with your car, and where is it? Maybe I can fix it for you.”

“No, it isn’t worth while. I think the points need filing and that isn’t easy to do in the dark. If you’ll run me to your house I’ll stay all night, provided you have room. My wife is away so she won’t miss me. It will be time enough in the morning to send a garage man out to get the car.”

“All right,” assented Tom. Truth to tell, he was tired and did not relish working over a refractory auto at this hour of the night, or rather, morning, for it was now past twelve. “We’ll be glad to put you up, Mr. Damon.”

“And I’m glad it happened, Tom, for it will give me a chance to see this new House on Wheels of yours. The last time I was over you were just planning it,” said Mr. Damon. “I expect, by now, it is making regular trips.”

“Not quite so fast as that. But we’re about ready for a tryout.”

“Then I’m just in time, bless my tooth brush!” chuckled Mr. Damon.

Next morning, Mr. Damon, after a view of the House on Wheels, to which he gave enthusiastic praise, arranged with a garage worker to come and get him and take him to where his stalled car had been left. Tom busied himself over the motor block test and, to his delight, found that the new engine was even better than rated.

“Of course it needs to be broken in,” he told Ned. “But that is only a matter of time. I’m going to rush things through now.”

Orders were given for an extra shift of workmen to assemble the House on Wheels and put the motor in place. Aside from some refinements and equipment, the big, new car was almost ready for the road. To such good end did the men work that day, urged on and aided by Tom, that by night the motor was in place, connected to the drive shaft and the machine looked almost finished.

“You could almost run it out as it is now,” said Ned.

“Not for a couple of days,” replied Tom, with a shake of his head. “But at least it looks the part, so I think I’ll telephone Mary and see if she can’t come over and take a look.”

He hurried to the telephone in his workroom and was soon in connection with the Nestor home, as Ned could tell by the talk. Mary was on the wire, and the financial manager heard Tom say:

“What’s that, Mary? You’re going away? Why—why——”

Then came a pause. Ned knew Mary was speaking, and what she said seemed to be surprising news for Tom Swift, judging by the look on his face.