TOM SWIFT AND HIS

GREAT OIL GUSHER

OR

The Treasure of Goby Farm

By

VICTOR APPLETON

Author of “Tom Swift and His Motor Cycle,”

“Tom Swift Among the Diamond Makers,”

”Tom Swift and His Flying Boat,”

“The Moving Picture Boys Series,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

THE OIL SHOT A HUNDRED FEET INTO THE AIR IN A HUGE BLACK GEYSER.

CONTENTS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT

OIL GUSHER

CHAPTER I
THE FALLING AIRPLANE

“A grand day for a spin in the air, Ned,” remarked Tom Swift, as he stretched his arms and looked through the window of his office. “What do you say? Come along and let the wind blow some of the cobwebs out of your brain.”

“Get thee behind me, Satan,” replied Ned Newton, the young financial manager of the Swift Construction Company. “I’ve got a heap of work yet to do in checking up this last monthly statement.”

“That’ll keep,” said Tom. “You’ll find the figures waiting patiently for you when you get back. I know you’re well ahead of your work, anyway, and a whirl in the circumambient will do you good. You see, I’m only thinking of you.”

“Yes, you are, you old hypocrite!” laughed Ned, who was about the same age and on the warmest terms of friendship with his talented young employer. “I’ve known for the last half hour that you weren’t paying any attention to what I’ve been saying and that your fingers were itching to get hold of the control lever of the Hummingbird. Well, I suppose you’ve got to get it out of your system, and it might as well be now as later. You go and tune up the old bus, and I’ll be with you just as soon as I’ve given some directions to my stenographer.”

Tom went off to the flying field, where several airplanes of his own construction, from the smallest to the largest sizes, were kept in readiness for use, and selected one which he had dubbed the Hummingbird because of its diminutive size. Ned had suggested the name, Aerial Mosquito, but Tom had rejected this as casting a stigma on his pet which had never “stung” them yet.

It was an attractive little craft, and Tom patted it lovingly as he went over every strut of the plane to see that it was in perfect condition. Long experience in flying had taught him to take nothing for granted. But there was nothing, even to his critical eye, that was lacking, and the same was true of the engine, which purred smoothly as it broke into its rhythmical song.

“Listen to that!” Tom cried enthusiastically to Ned, who by this time had rejoined him. “Isn’t she humming sweetly? Never misses a note. No grand opera prima donna has anything on her!”

“She sure sounds good,” agreed Ned, as he climbed into his seat and adjusted his straps.

With one last look that took in everything, Tom followed him and started the plane. The take-off was perfect. She ran along the ground for a little distance and then soared into the air like a bird. Tom let her climb, feeling out the air currents, until they were at a height of about eight hundred feet. Then he put her on a level keel and settled back in his seat to enjoy his ride to the full. At that moment he would not have exchanged places with any one on earth.

It was one of the perfect days that come in the late spring. There was scarcely a cloud in the sky. The sun was warm but not oppressive, and was tempered by a light and refreshing breeze. Below stretched a vast panorama of hill and valley and woodland, the trees and meadows luxuriant with their new coat of green. At the moment they were above Lake Carlopa, and they could see its waters gleaming like a mirror of crystal beneath the rays of the sun.

“Some scenery!” exclaimed Tom jubilantly.

“You said it,” agreed Ned. “It reminds me of that iceberg where we found the treasure——it’s so different.”

“Where we found the treasure but nearly lost our lives,” replied Tom, his face growing a little sober with the recollection. “Phew! it makes me shiver just to think of it. We’ve been in some pretty tight places, Ned, but that was the closest squeak of all.”

“I wouldn’t care to repeat it, for a fact,” said Ned. “But I’ve no doubt that you’ll be going into something just as dangerous before long. You’re a glutton for danger. I’ll bet you’re just pining for some other adventure.”

“Nothing in sight just now,” disclaimed Tom, with a laugh. “But I’m not saying that if anything beckoned I’d give it the glassy stare. There are lots of things we haven’t tried yet.”

“I’d like to know what they are,” returned Ned skeptically. “You’ve been near death as many times as I have fingers and toes.”

“And yet you’ll notice that I’m far from being a dead one yet,” said Tom lightly. “Or if I am dead, I’m a pretty lively corpse,” he added. “Don’t worry about me, old man.”

“The pitcher that goes to the well too often, you know,” warned Ned.

“Yes, I know that old wheeze,” laughed Tom. “But I’m not a pitcher and——Great Scott! what’s that fellow up to?”

The exclamation was wrenched from him by the peculiar gyrations of an airplane about two miles distant. They had noted its presence some time previously, but as they were not far from an aviation field and it was a common thing to see planes flying about, they had not given it any special attention.

Now, however, they noted that the plane was behaving much as a ship might which had lost its rudder. Its motions were confused and erratic. It would plunge downward nose first and then right itself abruptly and sail about in circles. There seemed to be no coherent plan on the part of the aviator, and indeed it acted as it might if the aviator were missing.

“Some fool aviator trying to do stunts,” was Ned’s comment, after he had watched it for a moment. “Those fellows make me tired. There are risks enough in flying without going out of the way to find them.”

“No, I don’t think it’s that,” said Tom anxiously. “It looks to me as if the pilot were in some sort of trouble. Lost control, sick, or something. I’m going over to see.”

He turned the nose of his craft directly toward the strange plane and made for it at full speed.

The queer contortions of the plane still persisted, and Ned was by this time convinced that Tom was right. A thrill of horror went through them as the conviction grew upon them that they might be about to witness a tragedy. If the plane should dash to the ground from such a height, there was not one chance in a thousand that the luckless pilot would survive.

They could see by this time that there was only one man in the plane, which was a much larger craft than their own. They could see him working desperately to get his craft under control. Where the trouble lay, whether with the plane or the engine, they had no means of telling. But that the man was in deadly danger and knew it, there was no longer any room for doubt.

They had come within half a mile of the strange airship when the disaster they had been dreading happened. The plane suddenly turned its nose to the earth until it pointed directly downward. Then it fell like a plummet, down, down, into the midst of a forest, where it landed with a terrific crash and was lost to sight.

A cry of horror burst from Tom and Ned.

“Quick, Tom!” cried the latter. “Can’t you make a landing somewhere?”

“That’s what I’m looking for,” replied Tom, as his eyes swept the surrounding country in search of some open spot.

But he looked in vain. The woods extended for several miles in every direction. Here and there were small open places, but as Tom circled about, flying as low as he could without striking the tops of the trees, he saw that none of them was large enough to permit the landing of the plane.

“There’s but one thing to do,” he said in a tense tone, when this conviction had become certainty. “We’ve got to mark the location of this place so that we can find it when we come to it again. I’ll leave you to fix that in your mind. Now we’ll make straight for home, get out my roadster and try to get to the place as soon as possible. The chances are that the poor fellow is dead, but we’ll do all we can. You get busy on the radio, so that the car will be all ready for us to jump into the minute we get back to the works.”

Ned turned his attention to the radio set with which the plane was equipped and called up Garret Jackson, the shop manager for the Swift Construction Company. He told of the accident and directed Jackson to have Tom’s roadster ready and the engine going.

Tom in the meantime had been making the Hummingbird travel at her fastest speed, and only a few minutes elapsed before they reached the yards. He made a perfect landing, and before the plane had fairly stopped he and Ned had leaped from it and were running toward the smart roadster, alongside of which Jackson was standing.

“I’ve put the first-aid kit under the seat in case you should need it,” said Jackson.

“Good work, Jackson,” commented the young inventor, as he jumped in and took the wheel. “Perhaps you’d better come along with us. There may be work for all of us. All set? Let’s go.”

He threw in the clutch and the speedy machine started and was soon racing along at a record-breaking speed in the direction of the woods. Although they were fairly flying, it seemed to Tom and Ned in their anxiety that they were crawling.

“Give her the gas, Tom,” urged Ned.

“She’s making sixty now,” replied Tom, with a glance at the speedometer. “Got the exact location, Ned?”

“Pretty nearly,” replied Ned. “Turn to the right at the first road after we pass the church at the forks. That’ll bring us to the Thaxton woods in which the plane fell. There’s an old woods road that runs through the center of the forest, and if we keep our eyes open on either side we’ll probably find it.”

Soon they had passed the church and turned into the road that Ned had indicated. At that point the going was good, but as they advanced it gradually grew more rutted and rocky. Tom kept up a high speed, however, though they had to hold on and the car bounded up and down in a manner that threatened wreck if the pace were maintained.

But a human life was in the balance, and if that could be saved nothing else mattered.

At last, deep in the woods, Tom slackened speed, for the road had “petered out.” But he could see that where it ceased to be a road it had become a trail that wound its uneven way among the trees. It was barely wide enough for the car to pass along, and here and there in the road were fragments of stumps that made traveling precarious.

“Gee, Tom, you’ll have to go slow here,” declared Ned.

“We don’t want to break our necks,” added Jackson.

“We’ll do the best we can,” answered the young inventor. “But if either of you wants to get out and walk——”

“Nothing doing, Tom!” cried his financial manager quickly. “If you stick, so do I.”

“Same here,” added the shop foreman.

On and on they rushed. Once they hit a big rock and for the moment it looked as if the machine would surely go over. Ned and Jackson held their breath. Maybe one or the other thought the next minute would be his last.

But Tom was a skilled driver, and with almost miraculous deftness he piloted the car at as fast a rate as he dared. He could not take his eyes from the road, but Ned scanned the woods on one side and Jackson on the other for any sign of the hapless airman.

They had gone perhaps half a mile when a shout came from the lips of Jackson.

“The woods are afire!” he cried, as he pointed ahead of them.

They looked in the direction indicated and saw a column of flames mounting above the tree tops.

CHAPTER II
ALMOST A TRAGEDY

Tom Swift and the two with him stared for a moment in consternation.

“It isn’t the woods on fire,” cried Tom. “They’re too green for that; and besides we had a drenching storm two days ago. It’s the plane that’s blazing.”

“And that poor fellow perhaps is being burned to death!” cried Ned. “Hurry, Tom; hurry!”

There was no need for urging. Tom threw caution to the winds and tore along at a reckless pace in the direction of the flames.

As he turned a bend in the trail, an exclamation escaped him. Right in the road was a small tree which had been blown down. It lay directly in front of him, completely blocking the road.

He had scarcely time to stop before colliding with it. Then with one accord all leaped from the car and tugged desperately at the tree to try to move it to one side far enough to permit the car to pass.

Although they put forth almost superhuman efforts, they soon found that their strength was unequal to the task. Tom was the first to realize it.

“No use, fellows,” he panted. “We’ll have to leave the car here and make the rest of the way on foot.”

They clambered over the tree and started running with all their might in the direction of the blazing plane.

And while, with their hearts full of apprehension and their lungs strained almost to bursting, they are hastening to the rescue, it may be well for the benefit of those who have not read the preceding volumes of this series to tell who Tom Swift was and what had been his adventures up to the time this story opens.

Tom, now about twenty-one years old, lived in the town of Shopton, a small inland city on the shores of Lake Carlopa. His father was Barton Swift, an inventor of note. Tom had grown up among wholesome surroundings and developed into a clear-cut, athletic young fellow, a general favorite among his associates. He was frank, courageous and good-natured, never looking for trouble but never stepping aside when it turned up.

Tom may have inherited the inventive genius of his father, or it may have been the force of example, but from his earliest years he displayed a marvelous aptitude in all things scientific and mechanical. A mere glance at any mechanical contrivance, from a watch to a steam engine, generally sufficed to give him a pretty clear idea of its working. But this was not enough. He saw not only its good qualities, but also its defects, and his active mind busied itself at once in trying to devise improvements. His success in this had been phenomenal. From his first venture into the realm of invention described in the opening volume of the series, entitled “Tom, Swift and His Motor Cycle,” his progress had been rapid. His ambition grew from what it fed upon, and the improvements that he added to the motor cycle were duplicated by those described in later volumes bearing on airships, submarines, rifles, cameras, searchlights, cannon and a host of other things that became famous. His friends described him as a “wizard.” But Tom, who was as modest as he was ingenious, never thought of himself in that light. He was unspoiled by praise and kept on devoting himself to his chosen vocation. Like Alexander, he was always looking for new worlds to conquer.

The work that he had done naturally brought with it large financial rewards. His activities resulted in the formation of the Swift Construction Company, which, starting on a small scale, had attained great proportions and formed the leading industry of the town of Shopton. In the development of the business Tom had been greatly aided by the financial ability of Ned Newton, his closest friend. Ned had been a clerk in one of the Shopton banks, but had left this position to become treasurer of the Swift concern. He was a genius in business management, and Tom was able with an easy mind to leave all financial details to Ned while he devoted himself to his inventions. It was an ideal combination. They were fortunate, too, in having at the head of the mechanical department Garret Jackson, a thorough mechanic himself and skilled in handling the large body of workmen on the Swift payroll.

Tom did not care overmuch for money, but of course he was glad that the business was prospering, especially as at the present time he was deeply interested in a charming young lady, Miss Mary Nestor. The attachment between them had grown rapidly of late and had been increased on Mary’s part by a great service that Tom had recently done in rescuing her father from an iceberg, on which he had been marooned while in a search for health. What peril was involved in that rescue and how Tom’s courage and ingenuity prevailed, are thrillingly told in the preceding volume of this series entitled: “Tom Swift and His Flying Boat; or, The Castaways of the Giant Iceberg.”

Now to return to the three who were hastening in the direction of the burning plane.

It must be confessed that they had little hope of being of use. The chances were great that the aviator had not survived the fall. Still, there was a chance, and that thought added wings to their feet as they tore through the forest.

Tom was first on the scene, with Ned close at his heels and Jackson bringing up the rear.

Resting on two trees was most of what remained of the doomed plane. It was still blazing so fiercely that they could not approach it closely. The motor had fallen through the trees to the ground, together with part of the wreckage of the plane.

There was nothing to be seen of the aviator, and they scanned the ground fearfully. Their first thought was that he must be lying crushed under the heavy motor. That fate, tragic as it was, would be better than being burned to death.

Suddenly, Tom, who had been examining all the trees that stood outlined in that great zone of light, gave a startled exclamation.

“There he is!” he cried, as he pointed to the branches of a tree fully fifty feet distant. “There, in the crotch of those two big branches.”

The others looked and saw the body of a man at the place indicated, about twenty feet from the ground. His torn clothing had caught in the branches, and big boughs supported the greater part of his weight. There was no sign of life as they gazed at the crumpled mass.

“He’s been thrown or jumped from the plane!” exclaimed Tom, as all three rushed to the tree. “Here, Ned, give me your back and we’ll get him down.”

Ned bent his back, and Tom, with Jackson’s assistance, got up on it. Even then, with his six feet of height and his long reach, he found that he was several feet short of the lowest branch.

“Hold steady, Ned, I’m going to jump,” he warned.

Ned braced himself, and Tom gave a mighty leap, just clutching the bough with his out-stretched hands. It was enough, however, and he swung his legs up, and in a moment was in a sitting position.

“Now, Ned, you do the same thing,” he directed. “I won’t be able to bring him down alone. You stand by, Jackson, when we lower him. In the meantime run back to the car and get the coil of rope that’s under the seat. And bring the first-aid kit along with you at the same time.”

Jackson waited only long enough to enable Ned to get up in the same way Tom had done, and then set off on a run to the car.

Tom and Ned made their way up through the branches until they were close to the unfortunate victim of the disaster. They had to proceed with caution for fear the swaying of the branches might release the body and let it fall to the ground. But at last they were in a position where they could see the man’s face.

It was a youthful face, that of a young man apparently no older than themselves. It was badly scratched and bruised, and blood was flowing from several wounds.

Tom reached under the torn coat and placed his hand on the man’s heart.

“Still beating!” he exclaimed joyfully. “Not very strongly, but he’s alive and he’s got a fighting chance. Now, Ned, lend a hand and we’ll get him down from here in a jiffy.”

That, however, was more easily said than done. It was a difficult thing to release the body from the twigs and branches that held the clothing. Then, too, each of them could use only one hand to support the weight of the body, while with the other they must cling for support to the branches. It was a task that taxed their strength to the utmost.

Luckily they were both stalwart and vigorous and in superb physical condition, and the fearful extremity in which their helpless burden lay called into play the reserve strength that can usually be depended on to meet a great emergency. Slowly and painfully they made their tortuous way down among the branches, until they rested on the lowest bough, one that seemed strong enough to support a regiment.

They paused there a moment to take breath. Jackson, in the meantime, had returned with a stout coil of rope. He tossed one end of it up to Tom. The latter caught it and made a loop which he fastened securely under the arms of the unconscious youth. Then, with Ned also holding on, he slowly paid it out until the aviator was within Jackson’s reach. The moment this was done, Tom and Ned dropped to the ground, and together they unfastened the rope and laid the airman gently on the grass.

As they did so, the youth gave a groan and opened his eyes. He looked vacantly at the faces above him and then drifted again into unconsciousness.

There was a brook at a little distance, and they carried him to the bank. Then, while Ned and Jackson bathed his face and wrists with the cool water, Tom ran his hands over the body. He had had a good deal of experience with accidents, and this now stood him in stead. His face was grave when he had finished.

“His right leg is broken, and a couple of ribs as well,” he announced. “He may have internal injuries also, but it will take a doctor to tell that. Hand me over that first-aid kit and I’ll make a splint for the leg. Then we’ll get him to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Tom worked skillfully and rapidly and soon had the temporary splint in place. The pain involved in setting the broken bone roused the wounded aviator from his oblivion. Again he opened his eyes, but this time there was less of vacancy in them. He tried to speak, but though his lips moved, no sound issued from them.

Tom bent over him.

“You’ve been hurt,” he said gently. “But you’re with friends. If you tell us what your name is and where you live we’ll try to get in touch with your people.”

The young man muttered something that was unintelligible.

“Try once more,” urged Tom kindly.

In a little louder tone and evidently with an effort of will, the injured youth said something that sounded like Hillobie.

“Did you say Hillobie?” asked Tom. “Just nod your head, either yes or no. Don’t try to speak.”

But the effort had been too much for the young man’s feeble strength, and he closed his eyes and lay motionless.

“We’ll have to let it go at that,” said Tom, rising to his feet. “Perhaps the hospital people will find papers on him that will give a clue to his identity. We’d better not wait to look for any. Now let’s get him to the car.”

CHAPTER III
AN ATTRACTIVE OFFER

With infinite care the three rescuers carried the injured airman to the car. They bestowed him in it with some difficulty, owing to the limited space, and then Tom took the wheel and began to back out of the woods. There was no room to turn around, and the process of getting back to the road was slow and tedious. It was fortunate that the man was unconscious, as otherwise the jolting over the rough woods trail would have been torture. But they reached the main road at last, and then Tom made up for lost time in a rapid spin to the doors of the hospital.

They carried the stranger in and gave a hurried description of the accident to the physicians in charge. Then they waited about until the doctors had made a thorough examination.

“He’ll pull through,” announced Dr. Sherwood, the head physician, at last. “But it’s a lucky thing you fellows got to him just when you did, or otherwise he would have soon died of shock and exhaustion. As far as we can see now, he has no internal injuries. The ribs and leg are clean breaks and probably they’ll mend without complications, though it’ll probably be a couple of months before he can leave the hospital. By the way, who set that leg bone?”

“I did,” replied Tom, in some alarm. “I hope it was all right, Doctor?”

“It was a nifty piece of work,” said the doctor, with a smile. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“Was anything found in his pockets that would identify him?” asked Ned. “We thought he said his name was Hillobie, but we couldn’t be quite sure.”

“Not a thing,” replied the doctor. “If he’d had any papers about him, they were shaken out during his fall. Or they may have been burned up with the plane. But probably some of his relatives or friends will read of the accident and communicate with us. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.”

They thanked him and went out to the car.

“What a lucky thing it was that I didn’t feel like work this afternoon and went out for a spin in the plane,” remarked Tom, as they sped toward the Swift Construction plant.

“It sure was,” agreed Ned. “But don’t let it become a habit,” he added, with a grin. “After this, whenever you have an attack of spring fever, I suppose you’ll make the virtuous excuse that we’d better go out and see if there isn’t anybody we can rescue.”

“How well you size me up,” laughed Tom. “I guess after this I’ll have to leave you to your old figures while I sneak out alone. But here we are at the plant. I’ll drop you and Jackson here while I mosey along toward the house. I want to get a bath and slip into some clean clothes. I sure look like a hobo.”

“You haven’t anything on us,” replied Ned, as he looked somewhat ruefully at his torn and rumpled clothes and his scratched hands, due to their scramble through the branches. “But after all,” he added, “it’s a cheap price to pay for having saved that poor fellow’s life.”

Tom drove the roadster into its garage and then made his way over to his house. This was only a little distance away, as the plant had grown up around the old homestead. For that reason, it was not the most desirable location in the world, but it had associations connected with it that were precious and made Tom and his father reluctant to abandon it. In the summer they had a pleasant little cottage some distance away where they spent much of their time, but for the greater part of the year they lived in the old homestead. One great thing in its favor was its proximity to the plant, where Tom often worked until late in the night when he was engrossed with a new invention. Tom’s mother was dead and the household was presided over by Mrs. Baggert, a motherly, efficient woman, who handled all the help and kept the home in perfect shape.

As Tom approached the gate, two figures came hurrying forward to greet him. One was a giant of a man, who had been brought home from the jungles by Tom on one of his expeditions abroad and who had become devotedly attached to him. His strength was enormous and had frequently stood Tom in good stead in moments of peril. His native name had been Koku, and this had been retained for want of a better. His English was imperfect, though he could understand anything that was said to him.

Hobbling close behind him, and holding on to his arm so that the giant should not be the first to reach Tom, was an old negro who had been in the household for years as a man of all work. His name, of which he was inordinately proud because of its mouth-filling qualities, was Eradicate Sampson, which was usually shortened by others to Rad. Tom was his idol, and the old man would have died for him.

Rad had not been at all pleased at first when Koku was brought to the old homestead. He feared that the giant might supplant him in the affections of his young master. But gradually this feeling had worn away, and he and the good-natured giant had become close friends, although there was a constant rivalry between them as to who should serve Tom most and best.

“Doan you be in such a hurry, yo’ slamdacious ole hunk o’ beef,” panted Rad. “Ah saw him fust an’ it’s mah place to tell ’im. Marse Tom, they’s——”

“Men to see you,” bellowed Koku, getting the message out first.

Rad glared at him and was about to emit some withering blast when he caught sight of Tom’s scratched face and torn clothes.

“Wha’s matter, Marse Tom?” he ejaculated. “Been in fight or smash-up?”

“Me kill any one hurt him!” cried Koku.

“I’m all right,” laughed Tom, who was touched, however, by their evident concern. “Just a few scratches and nothing else. Did you say there’s somebody to see me?”

“T’ree men,” said Koku.

“Fo’ men,” corrected Rad, with a glance of scorn. “Beats all how ignoramuses some folks is. Yassah,” he went on, while Koku was temporarily squelched, “Marse Damon’s dere wid free udder gemmum an dey bin waitin’ some time, sah.”

“All right,” said Tom. “But I’ve got to slip upstairs and get into other clothes. You go in, Rad, and tell them I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Rad shambled off with a triumphant look at Koku.

“As for you, Koku,” said Tom to the giant, who immediately brightened up, “you go down to the garage and wash the roadster. I’ve had a long ride in it this afternoon and it needs a good cleaning. You’re the only one I’d trust to do it right.”

Koku straightened up proudly and strode off. Tom looked after him for a moment with an amused smile and then slipped into the house by the back way and went up to his room. He could hear the voice of his eccentric friend, Wakefield Damon, in the living room as he fumed about and, as was his habit, blessed everything in sight.

Mr. Damon was a man much older than Tom, but from the time he had let the lad have the motor cycle that had nearly crushed out the man’s life and had started Tom on his inventive career, the two had been great friends. Mr. Damon was as adventurous as a boy, and had accompanied Tom on many wild trips to wilder parts of the earth.

Tom washed and dressed hurriedly and then went downstairs.

“Bless my timepiece, Tom!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, as the young man entered. “Where on earth have you been? I’ve been ’phoning everywhere I could think of for the last hour.”

“Sorry,” replied Tom, as he shook hands with his excitable friend and glanced at the three other men in the room who had risen from their chairs. “I was out for a ride in the airplane and was detained longer than I expected.”

“Bless my excuses!” said Mr. Damon. “Tom, let me introduce these three gentlemen who have called with me to see you on a matter of business.”

Mr. Damon introduced to Tom in turn a Mr. Thompson, Mr. Bragden and Mr. Hankinshaw. The two former were tall, sharp-eyed men, whose every glance and movement indicated mental celerity and familiarity with business. They were immaculately dressed. Hankinshaw was fat and gross, was roughly dressed and as uncouth in his manners as he was in physical appearance. He was smoking villainous tobacco in a pipe at which he puffed incessantly.

“Well, gentlemen,” said Tom pleasantly, after the introductions had taken place and they had resumed their seats, “what can I do for you?”

“We called,” said Mr. Thompson, who seemed by common consent to be the spokesman of the party, “to see you about the manufacture of some special oil-drilling machinery. I happened to know Mr. Damon slightly, due to the fact that we have some investments in another line, and in a conversation with him we told him something about our project. He immediately suggested that we get in communication with you. Said you had the ability and facilities to make just what we had in mind. Of course, the moment he mentioned your name, we recognized it, for who hasn’t heard of Tom Swift, the famous inventor?”

“Oh, there are lots of people who haven’t,” said Tom. “I’ve knocked together a few little things, but——”

“Bless my modesty,” broke in Mr. Damon, “listen to Tom talk. ‘Knocked together a few little things!’ Why, he’s made airplanes and cannon and searchlights and war tanks. He’s dug tunnels and goodness knows what not. Why, he’s made the whole tribe of inventors look like a lot of also-rans! He’s run rings around the lot of them. He’s the king pin. He’s—he’s—” and here Mr. Damon, sputtering incoherently, stopped for lack of breath and glared reproachfully at Tom as he polished his glasses.

“It’s evident that my reputation hasn’t suffered at Mr. Damon’s hands,” laughed Tom.

“No,” put in Hankinshaw, with the faintest sneer in his tone. “He makes a mighty good press agent.”

Thompson warned his colleague with a look, and the latter subsided, puffing furiously at his pipe.

“Mr. Swift doesn’t need any press agent,” went on Thompson smoothly. “His inventions speak for themselves. But now let us get down to business. As I was saying——”

“Pardon me while I call up my business manager, Mr. Newton,” interrupted Tom. “I never transact any important business without his presence and advice. He’s over at the works, and I’ll have him here in a minute.”

CHAPTER IV
RECKLESS DRIVING

The three visitors exchanged glances. It was evident that they did not especially welcome the suggestion. Like many business men, they had the idea that inventors were a sort of dreamy impractical race, not keen at bargaining and easy to beguile in a business deal.

Still they could not decently object to a thing so obviously correct, and after a mere instant of hesitation, Thompson made a virtue of necessity.

“We should be delighted,” he said suavely.

Tom took up the telephone that rested on a table near his hand and called up the plant.

“Mr. Newton,” he announced to the operator. “Hello. That you, Ned? Come right over, will you? I’m telephoning from the house. Some gentlemen are here with a business proposition and I want you here to confer with us. All right.”

“And while we’re about it,” remarked Tom, as he put down the telephone, “I’ll have my father in, if you don’t mind. He’s something of an invalid, but he’ll be of great help in discussing the proposition.”

Thompson assented with the slightest touch of vexation, immediately repressed, and Tom called through the window to Rad to summon his father.

They talked on indifferent matters for a few minutes until Mr. Swift and Ned arrived.

“Now, Mr. Thompson,” said Tom, after introductions had taken place and they had settled back in their chairs.

“As I stated,” resumed Thompson, “my partners and I are interested in having some special oil-well machinery manufactured. We have recently returned from a trip to Texas, where we have been investigating the oil situation. I can’t be more specific just now as to the exact location we have fixed upon for our venture for reasons that you can easily understand. We do not care to have any one know where it is, for although we have secured a large number of leases on property in the vicinity there are still more that we are negotiating for, and we do not care for competition. We think we have struck a rich field. At any rate, we are confident enough to make a try for it, although it involves a large outlay of capital. We want to get the material manufactured beforehand and shipped all at the same time so that it will be only a matter of setting up the machinery and starting the work. If you can do the work within a stipulated time and if your prices are right, we may be able to come to an agreement. But we would want you to cut your figures to the bone.”

“You can depend upon us treating you fairly in the matter of price,” put in Tom, and Ned nodded assent.

“Here,” said Thompson, taking up several sheets covered with figures and diagrams, “are the specifications of what we think we shall need; tubing, casings, drills, bits and the rest. They differ in some respects from those commonly in use, but we think they represent the most up-to-date inventions and improvements.”

“Of course,” put in Bragden, “if in the course of their manufacture you can improve on them we shall be glad to have you do so. Any new idea that comes to you we shall welcome. But, of course, that will not affect the conditions of the contract we may make with you.”

“Oh, yes it will,” said Tom drily. “Our contract will cover only the manufacture in exact conformity to the stipulations. If I invent anything better, the invention will belong to me.”

“I don’t see why,” growled Hankinshaw. “It seems to me that all your brains and time belong to us while you are working on the contract.”

His tone and manner were offensive, but Tom restrained his resentment and answered quietly.

“You’re mistaken there,” he replied. “You will see that if you look up the law on patents.”

“That’s all right,” said Thompson soothingly. “What we are especially interested in now is the time in which you can do this and the figure at which you can do it.”

“I think we can satisfy you in both particulars,” replied Tom, as he looked over the plans. “We have the plant and the machinery for turning out all the implements you have down here. But, of course, in a thing of this kind we can’t answer offhand. We’ll have to figure out labor and material costs, overhead and other items before we can name a definite figure. Suppose you leave these papers with us, and by to-morrow night we’ll be prepared to give you our terms. How will that do?”

“That’s satisfactory,” replied Mr. Thompson, after a moment’s conference with his colleagues. “Shall we see you here or at our hotel?”

“Perhaps we’d better meet in the office of the plant,” suggested Tom. “Then we can show you over the factory and let you get an idea of our facilities.”

“Good idea,” assented Thompson, and, rising, he and his companions took their departure.

“Bless my bank account!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, after the visitors had gone. “I think I’ve let you in for a good thing, Tom, my boy.”

“It may be so,” replied Tom reflectively, “and I’m very much obliged to you. By the way, Mr. Damon, what do you know about these men? Are they straight? Are they financially reliable?”

“Bless my responsibility!” was the reply. “As far as I know they’re all right. Thompson is the only one I know, and that but slightly; but my impression is that he has slathers of money. They’ve got to have some money or they wouldn’t be able to lease those oil lands they were telling us about.”

“Of course, that doesn’t mean such an outlay as it may seem on the surface,” said Ned thoughtfully. “They can lease all the farmland they want at a dollar an acre. The farmer is perfectly willing to let it go for that, for he wins any way. If oil isn’t found on his land he still has his property, and the dollar an acre is pure velvet. If it is found, he is allowed by law a royalty of one-eighth of the profit from the well or wells.”

“How do you come to know so much about it?” asked Tom, in some surprise. “I thought that your head was so full of figures that you didn’t have much time for anything else. Haven’t been investing in oil stocks, have you?” he added laughingly.

“Not exactly,” answered Ned. “But you can’t take up the papers nowadays without finding a lot about oil in them. There was a time when cotton was king. A little later steel was king. But to-day oil is king. Who’s the richest man in the world to-day? An oil man. What’s at the bottom of half the squabbles between nations nowadays? The fight for the possession of oil fields. England wants control of the oil fields in Persia and Mesopotamia. The Dutch are shutting out all foreigners from the Djambi fields. Soviet Russia expects to get enough money from her oil-well concessions to run the Government. So it goes all over the world. Oil is king. Look at the demand for it. See how automobiles are being manufactured by the millions. See how it has taken the place of coal for fuel in our own battleships and the great ocean liners. See how the great office buildings in various cities are using it in place of coal.”

“There’s millions in it, eh?” laughed Tom.

“Billions, trillions,” corrected Ned. “But now let’s get down to brass tacks and look over these specifications. Something tells me that we’ve got to watch our step in dealing with these men. Of course, they may be all right at that, but——” and he left his sentence unfinished.

“I don’t care much for that fellow Hankinshaw for a fact,” remarked Tom. “Once or twice I’d have liked to throw him out of the room.”

“He a little bit more than annoyed me, too,” assented Ned. “I wish he’d get another brand of tobacco.”

“Bless my appetite!” remarked Mr. Damon, as he looked at his watch. “I’ll be late for dinner and let myself in for a scolding. So long, folks,” and with a hurried handshake he was off.

Left to themselves, Tom, his father, and Ned put their heads together in close study of the specifications for the oil-well machinery. Although Mr. Swift had not been physically strong for years, his mind was as keen as ever and he was of invaluable service to the others, both of whom valued his opinion highly.

They sat long in conference, which was interrupted by dinner, to which Ned stayed. After the meal another hour of discussion ensued, at the end of which they had a pretty clear idea of the terms they would offer to the oil prospectors. There were some details left for Ned to look up on the following day, including an investigation as to the financial standing of the oil men, but the main features of their offer were practically settled.

“Well, that’s that,” remarked Tom, as Ned rose to go. “Wait a minute, Ned, and I’ll get out the car and drop you at your house. I’m going up your way, anyhow.”

“Yes,” said Ned drily, as he looked out of the window. “I notice that it’s a beautiful moonlight night. And I remember that Mary Nestor lives on the same street just a little way beyond our house.”

“What an acute mind you have,” laughed Tom. “I’d hate to have you on my trail if I’d committed a crime. Come along now and don’t be envious.”

It is possible that Mary Nestor had noticed too that it was a beautiful moonlight night and barely possible that the thought had occurred to her that a certain young inventor might happen along that way. What is certain is that she was dressed most becomingly, that her cheeks had a pink flush in them, and that her eyes were uncommonly bright as she opened the door in response to his ring.

“Why, Tom, what a pleasant surprise,” she said.

“It’s too fine a night to be indoors, Mary,” said Tom, as he held her hand a little longer than was absolutely necessary. “What do you say to a spin along the lake road? Just for an hour or so.”

“I’ll be glad to,” answered Mary. “Come into the living room and see father and mother for a moment while I get my hat on.”

She ushered him into the room and then ran upstairs while Tom greeted her parents. He was a great favorite with them, and they welcomed him warmly. They chatted together for a few minutes until Mary came down. Then, with a promise not to be gone too long, the young people went out to the car.

The moonlight flooded the roads, making them almost as bright as in the day. There was just a light breeze that blew little wisps of hair about Mary’s face in a way that made her seem more bewitching than ever. It was a night when it was good to be young and to be alive.

“On such a night——” murmured Tom, as the car purred smoothly along.

“Going to quote Shakespeare?” inquired Mary mischievously.

“Not exactly,” laughed Tom. “Mary,” he said, “listen. I——”

But what he wanted Mary to listen to could not be told at the moment, for just then a big touring car came plunging around a bend in the road and came tearing down toward them.

CHAPTER V
A CLOSE SHAVE

The big machine came thundering along at a reckless pace, not attempting to keep to the right, but holding to the middle of the road. At the same time Tom and Mary could hear the sound of boisterous singing from the people in the car. It was evidently a party out for a “joy ride” and totally careless of the rights of others.

There was a cry of fright from Mary as the car kept on its course as if determined to ride them down. Tom turned the wheel sharply, so sharply in fact that his car went into a little ditch at the side of the road. At the same instant the bigger machine whizzed past, the driver grinning at the way he had crowded the other car off.

Tom was boiling over with indignation. If he had not had Mary with him, he would have turned and pursued the other car and never stopped until he had thrashed the driver or landed him in jail.

“The scoundrel!” he cried. “That fellow was little better than a murderer. If I could lay my hands on him I’d make him sorry that he’d ever been born.”

“There, there, Tom,” said Mary soothingly, though she was still trembling. “Let’s be thankful we’re alive. If you hadn’t been as quick as you were we would both have been killed.”

It took a few minutes and considerable maneuvering to get the car out of the ditch, but at last they were on the road again, and under the influence of Mary’s presence, Tom’s wrath finally simmered down. After all, they were, safe and together and nothing else mattered.

“You don’t know what a change has taken place in our home since father came back from that foreign trip,” remarked Mary. “It’s like a different place. He is so much improved and more cheerful that it seems as if a ton’s weight had been removed from our hearts. Mother goes about her work singing, and as for myself I’m happy beyond words.”

“That cranky old doctor knew his business, though it was like drawing teeth to get him to examine your father,” replied Tom. “It was an inspiration to send him abroad.”

“It might have been inspiration that sent him, but it took a young inventor named Tom Swift to bring him back,” said Mary. “I shudder yet to think of what might have happened if it hadn’t been for your courage and daring.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” answered Tom. “Any one else could have done the same if they’d had my facilities. I just happened to own an airplane that could do anything one asked of it. And the old bus certainly did herself proud.”

“The old bus, as you call it, wouldn’t have done anything if it hadn’t been for its pilot,” asserted Mary. “Everybody knows that. But you’re so painfully modest that I suppose you’d never own up to it, any more than you’d own up to what you did to-day.”

“What did I do to-day?” parried Tom.

“Oh, nothing,” laughed Mary. “Only saved a man from dying. Only set a broken leg as skillfully as a surgeon could do it. Apart from little trifles like that you didn’t do anything. I’d like to know what you would call a really good day’s work.”

“Ned Newton and Garret Jackson had as much to do with that as I did, Mary. But how did you come to hear about it, anyway?”

“Dr. Sherwood dropped in to see father early this evening,” was the answer. “You know they’re old friends. He thinks you ought to be a doctor.”

“I guess I’ll stick to invention and manufacturing for a while yet,” answered Tom, grinning. “Especially as I’m up to my neck in business. Everything’s humming down at the works. New contract came in to-day. At least I think it will be a contract if we can come to terms on prices. Going to give my answer to-morrow.”

“Tell me about it,” urged Mary.

“Oh, it’s for the making of some oil-well machinery,” answered Tom. “It’s something new for us, but we’ve got the facilities and can manage it all right. Mr. Damon brought the men to us, and I think it may result in a pretty big deal.”

“I wonder if they were the men I saw in Mr. Damon’s car when they passed our house to-day,” said Mary, with heightened interest.

“Likely enough,” answered Tom carelessly. “There were three of them.”

“Two tall ones and one fat stodgy one?” asked Mary.

“That’s right,” replied Tom. “But why the sudden interest? Do you happen to know any of them?”

Mary did not answer.

Tom looked at her in some surprise.

“Did you hear my question?” he asked.

“I don’t know any of them,” answered Mary.

There was something in her tone that piqued Tom’s curiosity.

“Come, Mary, out with it,” he urged. “You’re concealing something. Let me know what it is.”

“I’m sorry I spoke,” said Mary reluctantly, “I was right when I said that I didn’t know any of them. But one of them spoke to me in town to-day and tried to strike up an acquaintance. Of course, I froze him and got away from him as fast as I could.”

“The hound!” cried Tom furiously. “Which one of them was it? I’ll have his hide!”

“It was the fat, coarse one,” replied Mary. “I don’t know his name.”

“Hankinshaw!” cried Tom. “The low brute! Just wait till I can lay my hands on him!”

“Now, Tom, you must promise me not to do anything rash,” pleaded Mary, laying her hand on his arm. “There’s been no real harm done, and I squelched him so hard that I guess he’ll never annoy me again. It would only give me unpleasant publicity if you attempted to punish him. And then, too, I don’t want anything to be done that may interfere with your business deal.”

“What do you suppose I care for the business deal?” exclaimed Tom. “If that were the only thing concerned, I’d go to him and thrash him within an inch of his life. I disliked the fellow from the minute I saw him, anyway, and if I’d known what I know now I’d have bundled him out of the house neck and heels.”

“I wish I’d held my tongue,” sighed the girl. “But don’t you see, Tom, that if you did anything now it would hurt me more than any one else?”

Tom did see, and reluctantly relinquished his desire to inflict summary punishment on the fellow, though he fumed inwardly and vowed to himself that he would keep a close watch on the cad during the rest of his stay in Shopton.

Suddenly a thought struck him.

“Do you know,” he said, “that speaking of that rascal has reminded me of something? When that road hog nearly crashed into us just now, I thought there was something familiar in his face, but I couldn’t just place him. Now I think I know. I’ll bet it was Hankinshaw.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” replied Mary. “I was so frightened that I couldn’t be sure, but in the glimpse I got of that repulsive face there seemed to be something I had seen before. I believe you’re right. He’s just the type of man to do that sort of thing.”

“Another thing added to his account,” said Tom grimly. “Something tells me that some day Mr. Hankinshaw and I will have a reckoning. And it won’t be exactly a pleasant day for him either.”

“Oh, well, let’s talk of something more pleasant,” said Mary, trying to get the young inventor out of his angry mood. “Do you know, Tom, I was greatly interested when you spoke about oil? It seems to me to be about the most important thing in the world.”

“Funny,” replied Tom. “That’s just what Ned Newton was saying to-day. I’ve been so busy with my inventions that I haven’t paid much attention to it myself.”

“I shouldn’t wonder if you would find that one of the most profitable things to devote your inventive genius to,” was the answer. “Father was saying the other day that there wasn’t a thing hardly with which oil wasn’t connected in some way or other. This car in which we are riding couldn’t run without oil and couldn’t be driven without gasoline. The same is true of the airplane in which you were flying this afternoon. Even on the farm the tractors are being driven by it. We women wouldn’t know what to do without naphtha and gasoline to remove spots. It’s in everything from the smallest to the biggest.”

“Almost thou persuadest me,” laughed Tom. “At any rate, I’m going to make a thorough study of the subject, and perhaps I may hit on something that will be worth while in the way of invention.”

“I’m sure you will,” replied Mary warmly. “You never yet have gone at a thing with all your heart but what you have succeeded in it.”

They had a delightful ride, despite the unpleasant feature that had intruded upon it at the start, and Tom had to let out his car to the fullest speed to get Mary back home at the time he had promised.

The next day was a busy one at the Swift Construction works. Tom was buried deep in the technical details of the machinery, and his father helped greatly with his assistance and advice. Already ideas of improvements were thronging in Tom’s active mind and he grew more and more interested as his study progressed.

Ned, too, was active in preparing his figures and estimates. He had been busy with the telegraph inquiring into the financial standing and responsibility of the oil men, and while these were not absolutely satisfactory, they were sufficiently good to warrant taking a reasonable chance, though they indicated the need of caution.

Late in the afternoon Tom and Ned came together for a preliminary conference.

“Well, how goes the battle, Ned?” asked Tom, as he settled into his office chair.

“I’ve got everything ready,” replied Ned, as he pointed to a mass of papers on his desk.

“Good!” was the reply. “As regards the time limit,” went on Tom, “I’ve consulted with Jackson and we figure that we can complete the job in six weeks. Of course, we could do it sooner, if we put the whole force on it, but we’ve got to take care of the contracts we have on hand.”

“As regards the price, we can do it at a fair profit for twenty-six thousand dollars,” said the financial man.

“Do you think they’re good for it?” asked Tom thoughtfully.

“I think we can take a chance,” answered Ned. “The references weren’t exactly what you could tall gilt-edged, but as regards Thompson and Bragden, they were fairly good. As to Hankinshaw——”

“The skunk!” muttered Tom.

“What’s that?” asked Ned, looking up.

“Nothing,” answered Tom. “I was just thinking out loud. Go ahead.”

“As to Hankinshaw,” Ned went on, “replies weren’t so good. He seems to have been mixed up in some shady deals. Went bankrupt once under suspicious circumstances. But he seems to be a minor figure in the deal. Thompson seems to be the king pin. To make things safer, however, we’ll demand a substantial cash payment on the signing of the contract and other payments while the work is in progress. That will cover us as we go along, and we can’t be stung to any extent. Take it altogether, my advice is that we conclude the deal, if they agree to our stipulations. And I think they will, for they’ve doubtless figured the matter out and they’ll know that our figures are right. Of course, they’ll try to reduce them, but we’ll stand pat. That is, of course, if you agree.”

“I’ll leave that all to you, Ned,” replied Tom. “Anything that you say goes. They can take it or leave it at our figures.”

CHAPTER VI
SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES

“Gemmun to see you, sah.”

With his very best bow, Rad ushered the three men into the office of the Swift works that evening, where Tom, his father, and Ned were waiting to receive them.

“You see, Koku,” Rad had said patronizingly, when he had been directed by Tom to be at the office in case he were needed for any errands, “Marse Tom knows who to count on when he wants anything what takes ’telligence. Yo’s all right when it comes to muscle, but when brains is needed yo’s certainly not dar.”

“Could break your back like that,” glowered Koku, snapping his fingers.

“Sho, sho,” agreed Rad hurriedly, retreating a little. “So cud a g’rilla. But what brains has a g’rilla got? Huh. Nuffin at all. Et’s brains, Koku, brains whut counts, I’m tellin’ you.”

Tom, who had overheard the controversy, mollified the giant by directing him to watch over the visitors’ car and see that no one got away with it, and peace was reëstablished for the time.

The visitors offered to shake hands. Tom thus greeted Thompson and Bragden, but when Hankinshaw also held out his hand Tom was very busy with some papers and did not seem to see it.

“Well,” said Thompson, when cigars had been lighted, though Hankinshaw clung to his malodorous pipe, “how about those figures? Let’s know the worst. You’ll remember what I said about cutting them to the bone.”

“There wouldn’t be much nourishment for us if we didn’t leave some meat on them,” remarked Tom, with a smile; “but we’ve cut as close as we can and yet leave ourselves a reasonable profit. Mr. Newton has the figures. Go ahead, Ned.”

Ned handed to each of the three men a duplicate sheet of the proposed contract.

“Those are our figures,” he said. “As you see, we make the total sum twenty-six thousand dollars.”

“Twenty-six thousand dollars!” exclaimed Thompson, with a well simulated start of surprise, while Bragden held up his hands as though calling on heaven to witness the outrageous price.

“That’s the figure,” said Ned firmly, “and if you’ve done any calculating at all you must know, that they are reasonable.”

“Looks as though you were trying to bleed us white,” growled Hankinshaw.

“We don’t bleed anybody,” put in Tom coldly. “Our reputation in the trade is too valuable for us to indulge in any such tactics.”

“I should think that twenty thousand dollars would have been the extreme outside price,” objected Thompson.