Tom Swift and His Great Searchlight Part 15

"Bless my toy balloon!" shouted Mr. Damon. "We're falling, Tom!"

It needed but a glance at the needle of the barograph, to show this.

Tom followed Ned at top speed, but ere either of them reached the engine room the pounding and grinding noises ceased, the airs.h.i.+p began to mount upward again, and it seemed that the danger had pa.s.sed.

"What can have happened?" gasped Tom.

"Come on, we'll soon see," said Ned, and they rushed on, followed by Mr. Damon, who was blessing things in a whisper.

The chums saw a moment later--saw a strange sight--for there was Koku, the giant, kneeling down on the floor of the motor room, with his big hands clasped over one of the braces of the bed-plate of the great air pump, which cooled the cylinders of the motor. The pump had torn partly away from its fastenings. Kneeling there, pressing down on the bed-plate with all his might, Koku was in grave danger, for the rod of the pump, plunging up and down, was within a fraction of an inch of his head, and, had he moved, the big taper pin, which held the plunger to the axle, would have struck his temple and probably would have killed him, for the pin, which held the plunger rigid, projected several inches from the smooth side of the rod.

"Koku, what is the matter? Why are you there?" cried Tom, for he could see nothing wrong with the machinery now. The airs.h.i.+p was sailing on as before.

"Bolt break," explained the giant briefly, for he had learned some engineering terms since he had been with Tom. "Bolt that hold pump fast to floor crack off. Pump him begin to jump up. Make bad noise.

Koku hold him down, but pretty hard work. Better put in new bolt, Mr. Tom."

They could see the strain that was put upon the giant in his swelling veins and the muscles of his hands and arms, for they stood out knotted, and in bunches. With all his great strength it was all Koku could do to hold the pump from tearing completely loose.

"Quick, Ned!" cried Tom. "Shut off all the power! Stop the pump!

I've got to bolt it fast. Start the gas machine, Mr. Damon. You know how to do it. It works independent of the motor. You can let go in a minute, Koku!"

It took but a few seconds to do all this. Ned stopped the main motor, which had the effect of causing the propellers to cease revolving. Then the airs.h.i.+p would have gone down but for the fact that she was now a balloon, Mr. Damon having started the generating machine which sent the powerful lifting gas into the big bag over head.

"Now you can let go, Koku," said Tom, for with the stooping of the motor the air pump ceased plunging, and there was no danger of it tearing loose.

"Bless my court plaster!" cried Mr. Damon. "What happened, Tom?"

As the giant arose from his kneeling position the cause of the accident could easily be seen. Two of the big belts that held down one end of the pump bed-plate to the floor of the airs.h.i.+p, had cracked off, probably through some defect, or because of the long and constant vibration on them.

This caused a great strain on the two forward bolts, and the pump started to tear itself loose. Had it done so there would have been a serious accident, for there would have been a tangle in the machinery that might never have been repairable. But Koku, who, it seems, had been watching the pump, saw the accident as soon as it occurred. He knew that the pump must be held down, and kept rigid, and he took the only way open to him to accomplish this.

He pressed his big hands down over the place where the bolts had broken off, and by main strength of muscle he held the bed-plate in place until the power was shut off.

"Koku, my boy, you did a great thing!" cried Tom, when he realized what had happened. "You saved all our lives, and the airs.h.i.+p as well."

"Koku glad," was the simple reply of the giant.

"But, bless my witch hazel!" cried Mr. Damon. "There's blood on your hands, Koku!"

They looked at the giant's palms. They were raw and bleeding.

"How did it happen?" asked Ned.

"Where belts break off, iron rough-like," explained Koku.

"Rough! I should say it was!" cried Tom. "Why, he just pressed with all his might on the jagged end of the belts. Koku you're a hero!"

"Hero same as giant?" asked Koku, curiously.

"No, it's a heap sight better," spoke Tom, and there was a trace of tears in his eyes.

"Bless my vaseline!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, blowing his nose harder than seemed necessary. "Come over here, Koku, and I'll bandage up your hands. Poor fellow, it must hurt a lot!"

"Oh, not so bad," was the simple reply.

While Mr. Damon gave first aid to the injured, Tom and Ned put new bolts in place of the broken ones on the bed-plate, and they tested them to see that they were perfect. New ones were also subst.i.tuted for the two that had been strained, and in the course of an hour the repairs were made.

"Now we can run as an aeroplane again," said Tom. "But I'm not going to try such speed again. It was the vibration that did it I guess."

They were now over a wild and desolate stretch of country, for the region lying on either side of the imaginary line dividing Canada and New York State, at the point where the St. Lawrence flows north-east, is spa.r.s.ely settled.

There were stretches of forest that seemed never to have been penetrated, and here and there patches of stunted growth, with little lakes dotted through the wilderness. There were hills and valleys, small streams and an occasional village.

"Just the place for smuggling," observed Tom, as he looked at a map, consulted a clock and figured out that they must be near Logansville. "We can go down here in one of these hollows, surrounded by this tangled forest, and no one would ever know we were here. The smugglers could do the same."

"Are you going to try it?" asked Ned.

"I think I will. We'll go up to quite a height now, and I'll see if I can pick out Logansville. That isn't much of a place I guess. When I sight it I'll select a good place to lay hidden for a day or two, until Mr. Whitford has had a chance to work up his clew."

The airs.h.i.+p machinery was now working well again, and Tom sent his craft up about three miles. From there, taking observations through a powerful telescope, he was able, after a little while, to pick out a small town. From its location and general outline he knew it to be Logansville.

"We'll go down about three miles from it," he said to his chum.

"They won't be likely to see us then, and we'll stay concealed for a while."

This plan was put into operation, and, a little later the Falcon came to rest in a little gra.s.sy clearing, located in among a number of densely wooded hills. It was an ideal place to camp, though very lonesome.

"Now, Ned, let's cut a lot of branches, and pile them over the airs.h.i.+p," suggested Tom.

"Cover over the airs.h.i.+p? What for?"

"So that in case anyone flies over our heads they won't look down and see us. If the Fogers, or any of the smugglers, should happen to pa.s.s over this place, they'd spot us in a minute. We've got to play foxy on this hunt."

"That's so," agreed his chum; and soon the three of them were busy making the airs.h.i.+p look like a tangled ma.s.s of underbrush. Koku helped by dragging big branches along under his arm, but he could not use his hands very well.

They remained in the little gra.s.sy glade three days, thoroughly enjoying their camp and the rest. Tom and Ned went fis.h.i.+ng in a nearby lake and had some good luck. They also caught trout in a small stream and broiled the speckled beauties with bacon inside them over live coals at a campfire.

"My! But that's good!" mumbled Ned, with his mouth full of hot trout, and bread and b.u.t.ter.

"Yes, I'd rather do this than chase smugglers," said Tom, stretching out on his back with his face to the sky. "I wish--"

But he did not finish the sentence. Suddenly from the air above them came a curious whirring, throbbing noise. Tom sat up with a jump! He and Ned gazed toward the zenith. The noise increased and, a moment later, there came into view a big airs.h.i.+p, sailing right over their heads.

"Look at that!" cried Tom.

"Hus.h.!.+ They'll hear you," cautioned Ned.

"Nonsense! They're too high up," was Tom's reply. "Mr. Damon, bring me the big binoculars, please!" he called.

"Bless my spectacles, what's up?" asked the odd gentleman as he ran with the gla.s.ses toward Tom.