Appleton, Victor – Tom Swift Jr 01 – And His Flying Lab

he requested.

Tom made the call, but before delivering the message, he said, “Mother, the new invention works! And I’m going to call it the Damonscope.”

“That’s wonderful, dear! I’m so happy for you!”

“Is Sandy there?” Tom asked. He wanted to be the first to tell his sister.

“No. She went horseback riding with Phyl, but they’ll be back by noon.”

GHOSTLY PHOTOS 73

Phyllis Newton, daughter of Ned Newton, was Sandy’s closest friend. Like Sandy, she was an enthusiastic horsewoman.

“Did you warn Sandy not to go on any back roads again?” Tom asked.

“Yes. She promised to stay on the well-traveled bridle paths.”

Tom told of the luncheon plans, then hung up. He had barely put down the phone when Miss Trent called to say Sefior Berg was there to see the Swifts.

“He didn’t lose any time,” Tom commented.

The two Swifts stood up to greet their caller who wore heavy tortoise-shell-rimmed glasses.

“So happy to meet you,” said the young man, his expansive smile revealing exceptionally glistening teeth. “I am Sefior Jose Berg of the Hemispak Scientific Society, and I bring with me a letter of introduction from our president, Carlos Ricardo.”

First Mr. Swift, then Tom, shook hands with him. As Mr. Swift accepted the note and read it, Tom studied their visitor. He did not recall having seen him at the Hemispak meeting.

“You were not at the meeting?” he observed, offering the man a chair.

“Meeting? What meeting?” Mr. Berg asked.

“The Hemispak meeting at which my father and I spoke.”

“Oh, that one! Why, ho. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t arrived in your country at that time.”

Mr. Swift, who had finished reading the note, remarked, “Sefior Ricardo suggested we should become better acquainted, Mr. Berg. He says you can be of

74 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB

great assistance in preparing us for what lies ahead.”

“And you, in return”—beamed their visitor, his expansive smile even broader—“have so much scientific data that I would like to learn about. I also am eager to see the Flying Lab, and the other inventions about which Hemispak members have heard so much.”

Tom listened to the man with a growing sense of uneasiness. The young inventor did not know exactly why, but he was sure of one thing: he would want to know Senor Berg a lot better before revealing any of the Swifts’

valuable researches.

During a lull in the conversation, Tom said, “That idea of using a nickname for your country is a very clever one.”

“Nickname?” Senor Berg frowned.

“Tom means a word to take the place of the real name,” Mr. Swift explained.

“Oh, si, si, you mean—Bapcho!”

Tom relaxed. Apparently his suspicions concerning the stranger had been groundless. As his father gave him a knowing smile, the private telephone on Tom’s desk rang.

“Tom! Thank goodness I found you!” his mother’s relieved voice came over the wire.

“Why? Is something wrong?” Tom spoke very low.

“It’s Sandy—Jumper came home without her!” Mrs. Swift’s voice trembled with anxiety. “Don’t say anything to your father yet, Tom, but I’m frantic with worry because we—we’ve been threatened!”

CHAPTER X

A THREAT COMES TRUE

“I’LL COME at once!” Tom assured his mother.

Hastily excusing himself, he hurried from the office. Halfway to the private entrance, he spotted Bud Barclay coming out of one of the hangars.

He shouted to him, and when Bud ran up, relayed his mother’s message.

“I may need your help. Come along,” he said.

Together, they sprinted to where Bud’s car was parked, calling to the guard to open the gates.

“If Sandy’s been hurt—” Tom looked grim as he considered the possibilities.

Bud clenched his fists. “Just let me get my hands on anybody who—”

The convertible roared along the road as he gave it full power. Mrs. Swift was waiting for them in front of the house, as the car shrieked to an abrupt halt.

Her attractive, usually calm face was troubled and Tom knew that she was trying hard to hold back tears.

75

76 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB

“Don’t worry, Mother. We’ll find Sandy,” he said. “Who threatened us?”

“Some strange man. He telephoned right after Sandy rode off. He wouldn’t give his name, but he said in a rough voice:

” ‘You were warned not to pursue our man. Call off the police at once!’ “

“Good night!” Bud exclaimed.

“Was that all?” Tom asked.

“No.” His mother went on: “He said that if the police got any hotter on their trail, all the Swifts would suffer for it!”

Tom realized that the police at that very moment were hot on the trail! Did their enemies plan to retaliate by kidnaping Sandy? Could she be their prisoner at this very moment?

“Mother, you said Phyl was with her. Is she missing too?”

“No, Phyl’s home. I phoned her. She left Sandy at the flying field over an hour ago. I checked, but she’s not there now. What’ll we do?”

Before Tom could answer, he saw Phyl Newton hurrying up the walk. Her pretty face was flushed, and her dark hair was blowing wildly in the breeze.

“What’s happened to Sandy?” she cried.

“We don’t know,” Mrs. Swift answered. “When you left her at the airfield, didn’t she say what she was going to do?”

“No, but I’m sure Sandy didn’t plan to fly,” Phyl replied. “Maybe—”

“Yes?” Tom asked.

A THREAT COMES TRUE 77

“I just remembered Sandy said that some time she was going to stop at our old riding master’s house on Parker Lane. Maybe that’s where she went.”

A phone call to his house revealed that Sandy had indeed been there but had left over half an hour before. He said she had taken the Stony Brook bridle path toward home.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Swift, “Sandy may be lying injured along the trail!”

“We’ll soon find out!” Tom cried, and rushed from the house with Bud at his heels.

Phyl insisted upon going along and dashed after them. She hopped in the car and a few minutes later they passed the riding master’s house.

Reaching the narrow Stony Brook bridle path which ran through a woods, they noticed the tracks of a car which had started in but had been forced to back out of the narrow opening. Tom parked and they all started down the path. There were hundreds of hoofprints. It was impossible to tell which ones had been made by Sandy’s horse.

“Sandy! Sandy!” Tom shouted.

When there was no response, the searchers started running along the trail.

Fifteen minutes later they came to the end of it without having found any sign of Sandy.

“Stymied!” Bud muttered. “What’s our next move?”

After a conference it was decided that Phyl would cut cross lots, then walk along the road toward the Swift home, and report to them if she had found any

78 TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING LAB

trace of Sandy. Meanwhile, the boys would comb the woods, each taking one side of the trail. Every ten minutes they would meet to report progress.

“After that threat,” Bud said, starting off, “you don’t really think Sandy’s around here, do you?”

Tom shrugged. “Anything could have happened. I’m just hoping she wasn’t kidnaped.”

Bud winced at this possibility. Tom himself tried not to dwell on the idea as he hunted through the underbrush. Twice the boys met at the trail without having found a trace of the missing girl.

“There’s only one more section to search,” Bud said, a note of hopelessness creeping into his voice.

“But I’m not stopping here,” Tom declared. “I’m not giving up until I’ve covered every inch of this county if necessary.”

“Phyl hasn’t come back, so we know that she didn’t find Sandy,” Bud remarked, his face revealing his anxiety.

Minutes later, as Tom neared the area where they had parked the car, he suddenly stopped.

“Those broken bushes!” he exclaimed. “And those hoofmarks—a horse must have gone wild here!”

Cupping his hands, he shouted for Bud, bringing the copilot on the dead run.

Some distance in from the bridle path low bushes had been crushed and the earth kicked up. A man’s deep footprints mingled with the hoofmarks.

“There’s more trampled underbrush over there.” Tom pointed as he pressed into the thickly overgrown section. “Bud! Look! It’s Sandy!”

I

A THREAT COMES TRUE 79

The girl was bound to the trunk of a young tree, a gag in her mouth. Quickly Tom whipped away the thick, coarse handkerchief while Bud untied the ropes.

“Oh, Tom!” she cried, throwing her arms around him. “Thanks a million, Bud.”

“Sis, are you all right?” Tom asked anxiously as she sagged in his arms.

Sandy was almost too weak to talk. But she nodded, and the boys could see that she was more frightened than hurt.

They helped her to a flat rock near the edge of the trail where she sat down.