TOM GETS THE MAP
For a few seconds Tom was so surprised
at the sudden action of the bully that he could neither
move nor speak. Then, crying out a command to
halt, the young inventor took after his enemy.
“The scamp!” he cried.
“The nerve he has! To deceive Abe Abercrombie
in that fashion! Wait until I get hold of him!”
“What’s it all about?”
asked the old miner, who, being a slow thinker had
not understood all that had happened. “What’s
up, Tom Swift?”
“Haven’t time to tell
you now,” flung back the running lad over his
shoulder. “I’ve got to catch Andy!
Then I’ll explain. He’s trying to
get ahead of us. I guess, but we’ll stop
him!” Thereupon Tom flung himself against the
door of the airship shed. The young inventor
found the portal bolted, though it vibrated with the
impact of his body.
“Come out of there, Andy Foger!”
cried Tom, pounding on the door. “Come
out, or I’ll get an officer, and have you arrested!”
There was no answer.
“Come out, I say!” repeated Tom.
“Around th’ back!
Try th’ back door!” suggested the miner,
who had hastened to Tom’s side. “Maybe
he’s run out that way!”
Tom listened. There was no movement
in the shop. Then the young inventor sprinted
around the side. He was just in time to see the
bully running away over the lots and fields in the
rear of his father’s premises. Andy had
climbed out of the back window of the shed, into which
Tom and Ned had peered that day, had climbed the high
fence, dropped down on the other side, and was now
running away with all the speed he could muster.
“Come back—!” began
Tom, and then he realized that his enemy could not
hear him. The bully was too far away. At
the same time our hero realized that it would be useless
to give chase, for Andy had too much of a start.
There was nothing to do but to turn back, and Tom
knew that his delay in trying to gain an entrance at
the front door had given Andy the very opportunity
he needed to escape at the rear.
“Well, this is a bad turn of
affairs,” remarked the lad, as he faced the
puzzled miner.
“What is, Tom?”
“Him having that map. It
shows the location of the valley of gold, doesn’t
it, and tells how to get there?”
“That’s what it does!”
“How did Andy happen to get it?”
“Jest as I told you. I
was on my way t’ your house, havin’ inquired
at th’ post-office, an’ the man said that
at your place there was a big shed, where you kept
your airships. I come along, an’, of course,
when I see this house, an’ the shed, an’
had a glimpse of th’ airship, I, of course,
thought it was your place. An’, though
you’d never told me about it, I thought maybe
this lad was in business with you. So, like a
blamed young tenderfoot, I blurted out my business
afore I thought, an’ handed him the map for safe
keepin’. He took it, too, that’s the
worst of it.”
“Yes, that’s the worst
of it,” agreed Tom, “But I’ll get
it back, if I have to cause his arrest, and search
his whole house.”
“But he runned away, Tom.”
“Oh, he’ll come back.
Was there only one copy of the map of the valley,
Abe?” asked Tom, anxiously.
“Yep; only one”
“Could you make another?”
“No, not if you was to pay me
a million dollars! You see I ain’t no drawer,
an’ this map, while I made part of it, was mostly
made by my old partner, who was with me when we discovered
th’ valley of gold, an’ was druv back
by th’ savage Eskimos an’ Indians, an’
by th’ terrible cold. My partner made th’
best part of th’ map, an’ he’s dead,
poor fellow.”
“I see. That’s too bad! Then
you can’t make a duplicate map?”
“Nary a one. But can’t
you do somethin’? It were amazin’
stupid of me, old Abe Abercrombie, t’ be took
in by a boy like him! Can’t you do somethin’?”
“I’m going to try,”
announced Tom determinedly, as he swung on toward
the Foger house. “I’ll cause his arrest
if he doesn’t give it up.”
A few minutes later Tom Swift and
Abe confronted Mr. Foger. The rich man, father
of the bully, was rather surprised at the visit from
the young inventor, for the two were not friends.
“Well, what can I do for you,
Tom Swift?” asked the banker, for he felt a
certain coldness toward our hero, since the latter
had defeated him in an effort to wreck a financial
institution in which Tom and his father were interested.
“Mr. Foger,” spoke Tom,
sternly, “your son has just stolen a map belonging
to this gentleman,” and he indicated Abe.
“My son stolen a map!”
exclaimed Mr. Foger. “How dare you make
such an accusation, Tom Swift?”
“I dare, because it’s
true! And, unless that map is returned to me
at my house to-night I shall swear out a warrant for
Andy’s arrest.”
“You’d never dare do that!”
“Wait and see!” spoke
Tom, firmly. “I will give your son, or you,
exactly five hours to return that map—if
it isn’t back in my hands by then, I’ll
get a warrant!”
“Preposterous! Stuff and
nonsense!” blustered Mr. Foger. “My
son never stole anything!”
“He stole this map, and there
is plenty of evidence,” went on Tom, as he detailed
the circumstances.
Mr. Foger hemmed and hawed, and affected
not to believe that anything of the kind could have
happened. But Tom was firm, and Abe Abercrombie
backed up his statements, until even the banker began
to waver.
“Very well,” he announced
at length, “I will look into this matter, and
if I find that my son has anything of yours, you shall
have it back. But I cannot believe it. Perhaps
he took it as a joke.”
“In which case,” spoke
Tom grimly, “he will find that he has carried
the joke too far,” and with that he and the miner
left the Foger home.
“It’s all my fault,”
bewailed Abe, as he and our hero trudged on toward
the Swift household.
“No, it wasn’t, Abe,”
declared Tom. “Any one would have been
deceived by such tactics as Andy used—that
is any stranger. And you didn’t expect
to find two airship sheds so close together.”
“No. That’s right,
I didn’t. That’s what threw me off
th’ track.”
“Andy only recently began work
on his triplane. I don’t know what his
object is, and I don’t care. Just now I’m
more concerned about getting back this map.”
“I hope we do get it.”
“Oh, we will. I’m
going to start off on my own hook, to find Andy.
But first I’ll take you to my house.”
The old miner was soon telling his
story to Mr. Swift, the housekeeper and Garret Jackson.
They expressed their surprise at Andy’s daring
act. But Tom didn’t do much more talking.
“I’m going out to find
Andy,” he declared, “and when I do—”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but they all
knew what he meant.
But the bully was in none of his usual
haunts, though Tom visited them all. Nor was
Andy at the homes of either of his cronies.
“Well, if I don’t find
him, I shall certainly swear out the warrant,”
decided Tom. “I’ll give him until
night, and then I’ll call on the police.”
Still he did not give up, but went
to several other places where Andy might be found.
He had about given up, as it was getting toward late
afternoon, when, as he came out of a billiardroom,
where the bully was in the habit of spending much
of his time, Tom saw the lad of whom he was in search.
“Hold on there, Andy Foger!”
cried the young inventor. “I want to see
you!”
“What about?”
“You know very well. Where’s that
map you stole?”
“I haven’t got it.”
“Take care!” and Tom,
with a quick step was beside the bully, and had grasped
him firmly by the arm.
“You let me alone, Tom Swift!” cried Andy.
“Where’s that map?” and Tom gave
Andy’s arm a wrench.
“It’s at your house; that’s
where it is! I just took it back. It was
only a joke.”
“A joke, eh? And you took it back?”
“Yes, I did. Now you let me go!”
“I will when I find out if you’re
telling me the truth or not, Andy Foger. You
come with me!”
“Where?”
“To my house. I want to see if that map’s
there.”
“Well, you’ll find that
it is, and you’d better let me go! My father
told me to take the map back, and I did. You let
me go!”
Andy struggled to get loose, but Tom
had too tight a grip. There was something, too,
in the manner of our hero that warned Andy not to
trifle with him. So, concluding that discretion
was the better part of valor, Andy walked sullenly
along toward Tom’s home, the young inventor
never relaxing the grip on his enemy’s arm.
They reached the Swift home.
Still holding his captive, Tom rang the bell.
His father came to the door, followed by Abe Abercrombie.
“Is the map back?” asked
the young inventor, anxiously.
“Yes, Andy brought it here a
few minutes ago,” announced Mr. Swift.
“Is it the right one, Abe?” inquired Tom.
“Yep, Tom. I made sure
of that as soon as I laid my eyes on it. It’s
th’ right one.”
“Then you can go, Andy Foger,”
announced our hero, “and if I ever catch you
in another trick like this, I’ll take the law
into my own hands. Clear out, now!”
“You wait! I’ll get
even with you,” muttered the bully, as he fled
down the front walk, as though afraid Tom would, even
then, put his threat into execution.
“Did he damage the map any?”
asked the lad, as he followed his father and Abe into
the house.
“Nary a bit,” answered
the old miner. “It’s jest th’
same as it was. There it is,” and he spread
a crinkled sheet of tough parchment in front of Tom.
It was covered with a rude drawing, and with names
of places scrawled on it.
“So that’s the map, eh?”
murmured Tom, eagerly scanning it.
“That’s it, an’
here’s th’ valley of gold,” went
on Abe, as he placed one rough finger on a certain
spot. “Right there—hello!”
he cried, as he peered more closely at the parchment.
“That ink spot wasn’t there when I had
th’ map, a few hours ago.”
“What ink spot?” asked Tom, anxiously.
“That one,” and the miner
indicated a small one near the edge of the map.
“That was never there!”
“It looks as if it was recently
made,” added Mr. Swift, who was something of
a chemist.
“An ink spot-freshly made,”
murmured Tom, “Dad—Abe, I can guess
what’s happened!”
“What?” demanded the miner.
“Andy Foger made a copy of this
map while it was in his possession, and now he knows
where the valley of gold is as well as we do!
He may get there ahead of us!”