Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice Part 14

"The Fogers again!" he murmured. "We'll pay 'em back for this! But first we must see to the boys!"

They needed small attention, however. The opening of the big door had let in a flood of fresh air, and this dispelled the last of the fumes. The watchman was the first to revive. The sleep caused by the chemical, sprayed from the air-pump by the vandal, had been succeeded by a natural slumber, and this was the case with Ned and Tom. They were soon aroused, and looked with wonder, not unmixed with rage, at the work done in the night.

Every one of the princ.i.p.al planes of the airs.h.i.+p, each of the rudders, and some of the auxiliary wings had been cut by a sharp knife--some in several places. The canvas hung in shreds and patches, and the trim RED CLOUD looked like some old tramp airs.h.i.+p now. Tom could scarcely repress a groan.

"Who did it?" he gasped.

"And with us here on guard!" added Ned.

"I--I must have fallen asleep," admitted the watchman in confusion.

"You were all asleep," said Mr. Damon. "I couldn't rouse you!"

"And there was th' smell of chloroform, or something like it in th'

shed," added the miner.

"But look at the airs.h.i.+p!" groaned Tom.

"Is it ruined--can't we go to the valley of gold?" asked Ned.

Tom did not answer for a few minutes. He was walking around looking at his damaged craft. The sleepy feeling was rapidly leaving him, as well as Ned and the watchman.

"Bless my watch chain!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "What an ugly, mean piece of work. Can you repair it, Tom?"

"I think so," was the hesitating answer. "It is not as bad as I feared at first. Luckily the gas-bag has not been touched, for, if it had, we could hardly have repaired it. I can fix the wings and the rudders. The propellers have not been damaged, nor has the motor been touched. I think they must have made another attempt to take the map off me," he went on, as he looked at several pockets that had been turned inside out.

An examination of the door showed how the lock had been forced, and the adventurers could easily guess the rest. But who the midnight vandal was they could not tell, though Tom and the others were sure it was some one hired by the Fogers.

"They wanted to delay us," said Tom. "They thought this would hold us back, but it won't--for long. We'll get right to work, and make new planes and rudders. Fortunately the framework isn't hurt any."

Once Tom got into action nothing held him back. He hardly wanted to stop for meals. New canvas was ordered, and that very afternoon some of the damaged wings had been repaired. In the meanwhile the stores and provisions that had been ordered were arriving, and, under the direction of the miner and Mr. Damon were put in the RED CLOUD. Tom and Ned, with the help of a man they hired, worked diligently to replace the damaged planes and rudders. Mr. Parker came out to the airs.h.i.+p shed, but he was of little use as a helper, for he was continually stopping to jot down some memoranda about an observation he thought of, or else he would lay aside his tools to go outside, look at the weather, and make predictions.

But Tom and the others labored to such good advantage that in three days they had repaired most of the damage done. Luckily the vandal had cut and slashed in a hurry, and his malicious work was only half accomplished. There was no clue to his ident.i.ty.

No trace was seen of the Fogers, and Tom hardly expected it, for he thought they were in Sitka by this time. Nor were any suspicious persons seen hanging around the shed. The adventurers left their rooms at the hotel, and took up their quarters in the airs.h.i.+p that would soon be their home for many days. They wanted to be where they could watch the craft, and two guards were engaged.

"We'll start to-morrow," Tom announced gaily one evening when, after a hard day's work the last of the damaged planes had been repaired.

"Start fer th' valley of gold?" asked the miner.

"Yes. Everything is in good shape now. I want to go into town, to send some messages home, telling dad we'll soon be on our way, and I also want to get a few things."

"Shall I come?" asked Ned.

"No, I'd rather you'd stay here," spoke Tom, in a low voice. "We can't take any more chances of being delayed, and, as it's pretty well known that we'll sail to-morrow, the Foger crowd may try some more of their tricks. No, I'll go to town alone, Ned. I'll soon be back, however. You stay here."

But Tom came nearly never coming back. As he was returning from sending the messages, and purchasing a few things he needed for the trip, he pa.s.sed through a dark street. He was walking along, thinking of what the future might hold for him and his companions, after they reached the caves of ice, when, just as he got to a high board fence, surrounding some vacant lots, he heard some one whisper hoa.r.s.ely:

"Here he comes!"

The young inventor was on his guard instantly. He jumped back to avoid a moving shadow, but was too late. Something struck him on the back of his head, and he felt his senses leaving him. He struggled against the feeling, and he realized, even in that exciting moment, that the thick collar of his heavy overcoat, which he had turned up because of a cold wind, had, perhaps, saved him from a broken skull.

"Hold him!" commanded another voice. "I'll go through him!"

The packages dropped from Tom's nerveless fingers. He felt himself sinking down, in spite of his fierce determination not to succ.u.mb.

He felt several hands moving rapidly about his body, and then he struck blindly out at the footpads.

CHAPTER XI

OFF FOR THE FROZEN NORTH

Tom Swift felt as if he was struggling in some dream or nightmare.

He felt strong hands holding him and saw evil faces leering at him.

Then gradually his brain cleared. His muscles, that had been weakened by the cowardly blow, grew strong. He felt his fist land heavily on some one's face. He heard a smothered gasp of pain.

Then came the sound of footsteps running--Tom heard the "ping" of a policeman's night-stick on the sidewalk.

"Here come the cops!" he heard one voice exclaim.

"Did you get it?" asked another.

"No, I can't find it. Cut for it now!"

They released the young inventor so suddenly that he staggered about and almost fell.

The next moment Tom was looking into the face of a big policeman, who was half supporting him.

"What's the matter?" asked the officer.

"Hold-up, I guess," mumbled the lad. "There they go!" he pointed toward two dark forms slipping along down the dimly-lighted street.

The officer drew his revolver, and fired two shots in the air, but the fleeing figures did not stop.

"How did it happen?" asked the policeman. "Did they get anything from you?"

"No--I guess not," answered Tom. He saw the packages containing his purchases lying where they had fallen. A touch told him his watch and pocketbook were safe. The precious map was in a belt about his waist, and that had not been removed. "No, they didn't get anything," he a.s.sured the officer.

"I came along too quick for 'em, I guess," spoke the bluecoat. "This is a bad neighborhood. There have been several hold-ups here of late, but I was on the job too soon for these fellows. h.e.l.lo, Mike,"

as another officer came running up in answer to the shots and the raps of the night-stick. "Couple of strong-arm-men tackled this young fellow just now. I saw something going on as I turned the corner, and I rapped and ran up. They went down that way. I fired at 'em. You take after 'em, Mike, and I'll stay here. Don't believe you can land 'em, but try! I came up too quick to allow 'em to get anything, though."

Tom did not contradict this. He knew, however, that, had the men who attacked him wished to take his watch or money, they could have done it several times before the officer arrived.

"It was the map they were after," thought Tom, "not my watch or money. This is more of the Foger's work. We must get away from here."