Tom Swift and His Great Searchlight Part 19

"It was the smugglers, without a doubt," declared Mr. Whitford. "You can't get away from this place any too soon, Tom. Get a new hiding spot, and I will communicate with you there."

"But they are on the watch," objected Ned. "They'll see where we go, and follow us. The next time they may succeed in smas.h.i.+ng the lantern."

"And if they do," spoke Tom, "it will be all up with trying to detect the smugglers, for it would take me quite a while to make another searchlight. But I have a plan."

"What is it?" asked the government agent.

"I'll make a flight to-day," went on the young inventor, "and sail over quite an area. I'll pick out a good place to land, and we'll make our camp there instead of here. Then I'll come back to this spot, and after dark I'll go up, without a light showing. There's no moon to-night, and they'll have pretty good eyes if they can follow me, unless they get a searchlight, and they won't do that for fear of giving themselves away. We'll sail off in the darkness, go to the spot we have previously picked out, and drop down to it. There we can hide and I don't believe they can trace us."

"But how can you find in the darkness, the spot you pick out in daylight?" Mr. Whitford wanted to know.

"I'll arrange some electric lights, in a certain formation in trees around the landing place," said Tom. "I'll fix them with a clockwork switch, that will illuminate them at a certain hour, and they'll run by a storage battery. In that way I'll have my landing place all marked out, and, as it can only be seen from above, if any of the smugglers are on the ground, they won't notice the incandescents."

"But if they are in their airs.h.i.+p they will," said Mr. Damon.

"Of course that's possible," admitted Tom, "but, even if they see the lights I don't believe they will know what they mean. And, another thing, I don't imagine they'll come around here in their airs.h.i.+p when they know that we're in the neighborhood, and when the spy who endeavored to damage my lantern reports that he didn't succeed. They'll know that we are likely to be after them any minute."

"That's so," agreed Ned. "I guess that's a good plan."

It was one they adopted, and, soon after Mr. Whitford's visit the airs.h.i.+p arose, with him on board, and Tom sent her about in great circles and sweeps, now on high and again, barely skimming over the treetops. During this time a lookout was kept for any other aircraft, but none was seen.

"If they are spying on us, which is probably the case," said Tom, "they will wonder what we're up to. I'll keep 'em guessing. I think I'll fly low over Mr. Foger's house, and see if Andy has his airs.h.i.+p there. We'll give him a salute."

Before doing this, however, Tom had picked out a good landing place in a clearing in the woods, and had arranged some incandescent lights on high branches of trees. The lights enclosed a square, in the centre of which the Falcon was to drop down.

Of course it was necessary to descend to do this, to arrange the storage battery and the clock switch. Then, so as to throw their enemies off their track, they made landings in several other places, though they did nothing, merely staying there as a sort of "bluff"

as Ned called it.

"They'll have their own troubles if they investigate every place we stopped at," remarked Tom, "and, even if they do hit on the one we have selected for our camp they won't see the lights in the trees, for they're well hidden."

This work done, they flew back toward Logansville, and sailed over Andy's house.

"There he is, on the roof, working at his airs.h.i.+p!" exclaimed Ned, as they came within viewing distance, and, surely enough, there was the bully, tinkering away at his craft. Tom flew low enough down to speak to him, and, as the Falcon produced no noise, it was not difficult to make their voices heard.

"h.e.l.lo, Andy!" called Tom, as he swept slowly overhead.

Andy looked up, but only scowled.

"Nice day; isn't it?" put in Ned.

"You get on away from here!" burst out the bully. "You are trespa.s.sing, by flying over my house, and I could have you arrested for it. Keep away."

"All right," agreed Tom with a laugh. "Don't trespa.s.s by flying over our s.h.i.+p, Andy. We also might have a gun to shoot searchlights with," he added.

Andy started, but did not reply, though Tom, who was watching him closely, thought he saw an expression of fear come over the bully's face.

"Do you think it was Andy who did the shooting?" asked Ned.

"No, he hasn't the nerve," replied Tom. "I don't know what to think about that affair last night."

"Excepting that the smugglers are getting afraid of you, and want to get you out of the way," put in the custom official.

That night, when it was very dark, the Falcon noiselessly made her way upward and sailed along until she was over the square in the forest, marked out by the four lights. Then Tom sent her safely down.

"Now let 'em find us if they can!" the young inventor exclaimed, as he made the craft fast. "We'll turn in now, and see what happens to-morrow night."

"I'll send you word, just as soon as I get any myself," promised Mr.

Whitford, when he left the next morning.

Tom and Ned spent the day in going over the airs.h.i.+p, making some minor repairs to it, and polis.h.i.+ng and oiling the mechanism of the searchlight, to have it in the best possible condition.

It was about dusk when the wireless outfit, with which the Falcon was fitted, began snapping and cracking.

"Here comes a message!" cried Tom, as he clapped the receiver over his head, and began to translate the dots and dashes.

"It's from Mr. Whitford!" he exclaimed, when he had written it down, and had sent back an answer, "He says: 'Have a tip that smugglers will try to get goods over the border at some point near Niagara Falls to-morrow night. Can you go there, and cruise about? Better keep toward Lake Ontario also. I will be with you. Answer.'"

"What answer did you send?" asked Ned.

"I told him we'd be on the job. It's quite a little run to make, and we can't start until after dark, or otherwise some of the smugglers around here may see us, and tip off their confederates. But I guess we can make the distance all right."

Mr. Whitford arrived at the airs.h.i.+p the next afternoon, stating that he had news from one of the government spies to the effect that a bold attempt would be made that night.

"They're going to try and smuggle some diamonds over on this trip,"

said the custom agent.

"Well, we'll try to nab them!" exclaimed Tom.

As soon as it was dark enough to conceal her movements, the Falcon was sent aloft, not a light showing, and, when on high, Tom started the motor at full speed. The great propellers noiselessly beat the air, and the powerful craft was headed for Lake Ontario.

"They're pretty good, if they attempted to cross the lake to-night,"

observed the young inventor, as he looked at the barometer.

"Why so?" asked Ned.

"Because there's a bad storm coming up. I shouldn't want to risk it.

We'll keep near sh.o.r.e. We can nab them there as good as over the lake."

This plan was adopted, and as soon as they reached the great body of water--the last in the chain of the Great Lakes--Tom cruised about, he and Ned watching through powerful night gla.s.ses for a glimpse of another airs.h.i.+p.

Far into the night they sailed about, covering many miles, for Tom ran at almost top speed. They sailed over Niagara Falls, and then well along the southern sh.o.r.e of Ontario, working their way north-east and back again. But not a sign of the smugglers did they see.

Meanwhile the wind had arisen until it was a gale, and it began to rain. Gently at first the drops came down, until at length there was a torrent of water descending from the overhead clouds. But those in the Falcon were in no discomfort.

"It's a bad storm all right!" exclaimed Tom, as he looked at the barometer, and noted that the mercury was still falling.

"Yes, and we have had our trouble for our pains!" declared Mr.

Whitford.