“And my promise to go was dependent on Tom’s agreement to accompany us,” said Mr. Damon
“Come on!” urged the professor, much as one boy might urge another to take part in a ball game. “Don’t let my rival get ahead of me.”
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“I wouldn’t like to see that,” Tom said slowly. “Who is he — any one I know?”
“I don’t believe so, Tom. He’s connected with a large, new college that has plenty of money to spend on explorations and research work. Beecher is his name — Fenimore Beecher.”
“Beecher!” exclaimed Tom, and there was such a change in his manner that his friends could not help noticing it. He jumped to his feet, his eyes snapping, and he looked eagerly and anxiously at Professor Bumper.
“Did you say his name was Fenimore Beecher?” Tom asked in a tense voice.
“That’s what it is — Professor Fenimore Beecher. He is really a learned young man, and thoroughly in earnest, though I do not like his manner. But he is trying to get ahead of me, which may account for my feeling.”
Tom Swift did not answer. Instead he hurried from the room with a murmured apology.
“I’ll be back in about five minutes,” he said, as he went out.
“Well, what’s up now?” asked Mr. Damon of Ned, as the young inventor departed. “What set him off that way?”
“The mention of Beecher’s name, evidently. Though I never heard him mention such a person before.”
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“Nor did I ever hear Professor Beecher speak of Tom,” said the baldheaded scientist. “Well, we’ll just have to wait until — — ”
At that moment Tom came back into the room.