CHAPTER IV
SUSPICIONS
High up aloft, over the blazing red
shed, with its dangerous contents that any moment
might explode, Tom Swift continued to hold his big
dirigible balloon as near the flames as possible.
And as he stood outside on the small deck in front
of the pilot-house, where were located the various
controls, the young inventor pulled the levers that
emptied bag after bag of fine sand on the spouting
flames that, already, were beginning to die down as
a result of this effectual quenching.
“Tom’s done the trick!”
yelled Ned, paying little attention now to the big
airship shed, since he saw that the danger was about
over.
“Dhat’s what he suah hab
done!” agreed Eradicate. “Mah ole
mule Boomerang couldn’t ‘a’ done
any better.”
“Huh! Your mule afraid of fire,”
remarked Koku.
“What’s dat? Mah
mule afraid ob fire?” cried the colored man.
“Look heah, yo’ great, big, overgrowed
specimen ob an equilateral quadruped, I’ll hab
yo’ all understand dat when yo’ all speaks
dat way about a friend ob mine dat yo’—”
“That’ll do, Rad!”
broke in Ned, with a laugh. He knew that when
Tom’s helper grew excited on the subject of his
mule there was no Stopping him, and Boomerang was
a point on which Eradicate and Koku were always arguing.
“The fire is under control now.”
“Yes, it seems to have gone
visiting,” observed Koku.
“Visiting?” queried Ned, in some surprise.
“Yes, that is, it is going out,” went
on Koku.
“Oh, I understand!” laughed
Ned. “Yes, and I hope it doesn’t
pay us another visit soon. Oh, look at Tom, would
you!” he cried, for the young aviator had swung
his ship about over the flames, to bring another row
of sand bags directly above a place where the fire
was hottest.
Down showered more sand from the bags
which Tom opened. No fire could long continue
to blaze under that treatment. The supply of
air was cut off, and without that no fire can exist.
Water would have been worse than useless, because
of the carbide, but the sand covered it up so that
it was made perfectly harmless.
Moving slowly, the airship hovered
over every part of the now slowly expiring flames,
the burned opening in the roof of the shed making
it possible for the sand to reach the spots where it
was most needed. The flames died out in section
after section, until no more could be seen—only
clouds of black smoke.
“How is it now?” came
Tom’s voice, as he spoke from the deck of the
balloon through a megaphone.
“Almost out,” answered
Mr. Damon. “A little more sand, Tom.”
The eccentric man had caught up a
piece of paper and, rolling it into a cone, made an
improvised megaphone of that.
“Haven’t much more sand
left,” was Tom’s comment, as he sent down
a last shower. “That will have to do.
Hustle that carbide and other explosive stuff out
of there now, while you have a chance.”
“That’s it!” cried
Ned, who caught his chums meaning. “Come
on, Koku. There’s work for you.”
“Me like work,” answered
the giant, stretching out his great arms.
The last of the sand had completely
smothered the fire, and Tom, observing from aloft
that his work was well done, moved away in the dirigible,
sending it to a landing space some little distance
away from the shed whence it had arisen. It was
impossible to drop it back again through the roof of
the hangar, as the balloon was of such bulk that even
a little breeze would deflect it so that it could
not be accurately anchored. But Tom had it under
very good control, and soon it was being held down
on the ground by some of his helpers.
As all the sand ballast had been allowed
to run out Tom was obliged to open the gas-valves
and let some of the lifting vapor escape, or he could
not have descended.
“Come on, now!” cried
the inventor, as he leaped from the deck of his sky
craft. “Let’s clean out the red shed.
That fire is only smothered, and there may be sparks
smoldering under that sand, which will burst into
flame, if we’re not careful. Let’s
get the explosives out of the way.”
“Bless my insurance policy,
yes,” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “That
was a fine move of yours.”
“It was the only way I could
think of to put out the fire,” Tom replied.
“I knew water was out of the question, and sand
was the next thing.”
“But I didn’t know where
to get any until I happened to think of the ballast
bags of my dirigible. Then I knew, if I could
get above the fire, I could do the trick. I had
to fly pretty high, though, as the fire was hot, and
I was afraid it might explode the gas bag and wreck
me.”
“You were taking a chance,” remarked Ned.
“Oh, well, you have to take
chances in this business,” observed Tom, with
a smile. “Now, then, let’s finish
this work.”
The sand, falling from the ballast
bags of the dirigible, had so effectually quenched
the fire that it was soon cool enough to permit close
approach. Koku, Tom and some of the men who best
knew how to handle the explosives, were soon engaged
in the work of salvage.
“I wish I could help you, Tom,”
said his aged father. “I don’t seem
able to do anything but stand here and look on,”
and he gazed about him rather sadly.
“Never you mind, Dad!”
Tom exclaimed. “We’ll get along all
right now. You’d better go up to the house.
Mr. Damon will go with you.”
“Yes, of course!” exclaimed
the odd man, catching a wink from Tom, who wanted
his father not to get too excited on account of his
weak heart. “Come along, Professor Swift.
The danger is all over.”
“All right,” assented
the aged inventor, with a look at the still smoking
shed.
“And, Dad, when you haven’t
anything else to do,” went on Tom, rather whimsically,
“you might be thinking up some plan to take
up the recoil of those guns on my aerial warship.
I confess I’m clean stumped on that point.”
“Your aerial warship will never
be a success,” declared Mr. Swift. “You
might as well give that up, Tom.”
“Don’t you believe it,
Dad!” cried Tom, with more of a jolly air of
one chum toward another than as though the talk was
between father and son. “You solve the recoil
problem for me, and I’ll take care of the rest,
and make the air warship sail. But we’ve
got something else to do just now. Lively, boys.”
While Mr. Swift, taking Mr. Damon’s
arm, walked toward the house, Tom, Ned, Koku, and
some of the workmen began carrying out the explosives
which had so narrowly escaped the fire. With long
hooks the men pulled the shed apart, where the side
walls had partly been burned through. Tom maintained
an efficient firefighting force at his works, and
the men had the proper tools with which to work.
Soon large openings were made on three
sides of the red shed, or rather, what was left of
it, and through these the dangerous chemicals and
carbide, in sheet-iron cans, were carried out to a
place of safety. In a little while nothing remained
but a heap of hot sand, some charred embers and certain
material that had been burned.
“Much loss, Tom?” asked
Ned, as they surveyed the ruins. They were both
black and grimy, tired and dirty, but there was a great
sense of satisfaction.
“Well, yes, there’s more
lost than I like to think of,” answered Tom
slowly, “but it would have been a heap sight
worse if the stuff had gone up. Still, I can
replace what I’ve lost, except a few models
I kept in this place. I really oughtn’t
to have stored them here, but since I’ve been
working on my new aerial warship I have sort of let
other matters slide. I intended to make the red
shed nothing but a storehouse for explosive chemicals,
but I still had some of my plans and models in it when
it caught.”
“Only for the sand the whole
place might have gone,” said Ned in a low voice.
“Yes. It’s lucky
I had plenty of ballast aboard the dirigible.
You see, I’ve been running it alone lately, and
I had to take on plenty of sand to make up for the
weight of the several passengers I usually carry.
So I had plenty of stuff to shower down on the fire.
I wonder how it started, anyhow? I must investigate
this.”
“Mr. Damon and Eradicate seem
to have seen it first,” remarked Ned.
“Yes. At least they gave
the alarm. Guess I’ll ask Eradicate how
he happened to notice. Oh, I say, Rad!”
Tom called to the colored man.
“Yais, sah, Massa Tom!
I’se comin’!” the darky cried, as
he finished piling up, at a safe distance from the
fire, a number of cans of carbide.
“How’d you happen to see
the red shed ablaze?” Tom asked.
“Why, it was jest dish yeah
way, Massa Tom,” began the colored man.
“I had jest been feedin’ mah mule, Boomerang.
He were pow’ful hungry, Boomerang were, an’,
when I give him some oats, wif a carrot sliced up
in ’em—no, hole on—did
I gib him a carrot t’day, or was it yist’day?—I
done fo’got. No, it were yist’day
I done gib him de carrot, I ’member now, ’case—”
“Oh, never mind the carrot,
or Boomerang, either, Rad!” broke in Tom, “I’m
asking you about the fire.”
“An’ I’se tellin’
yo’, Massa Tom,” declared Eradicate, with
a rather reproachful look at his master. “But
I wanted t’ do it right an’ proper.
I were comin’ from Boomerang’s stable,
an’ I see suffin’ red spoutin’ up
at one corner ob de red shed. I knowed it were
fire right away, an’ I yelled.”
“Yes, I heard you yell,”
Tom said. “But what I wanted to know is,
did you see anyone near the red shed at the time?”
“No, Massa Tom, I done didn’t.”
“I wonder if Mr. Damon did?
I must ask him,” went on the young inventor.
“Come, on, Ned, we’ll go up to the house.
Everything is all right here, I think. Whew!
But that was some excitement. And I didn’t
show you my aerial warship after all! Nor have
you settled that recoil problem for me.”
“Time enough, I guess,”
responded Ned. “You sure did have a lucky
escape, Tom.”
“That’s right. Well,
Koku, what is it?” for the giant had approached,
holding out something in his hand.
“Koku found this in red shed,”
went on the giant, holding out a round, blackened
object. “Maybe him powder; go bang-bang!”
“Oh, you think it’s something
explosive, eh?” asked Tom, as he took the object
from the giant.
“Koku no think much,”
was the answer. “Him look funny.”
Tom did not speak for a moment. Then he cried:
“Look funny! I should say
it did! See here, Ned, if this isn’t suspicious
I’ll eat my hat!” and Tom beckoned excitedly
to his chum, who had walked on a little in advance.