Infomotions, Inc.Tom Swift and His Giant Cannon, or, the Longest Shots on Record / Appleton, Victor [pseud.]

Author: Appleton, Victor [pseud.]
Title: Tom Swift and His Giant Cannon, or, the Longest Shots on Record
Publisher: Project Gutenberg
Tag(s): tom; ned; gun; powder; cannon; general waller; young inventor; massa tom; giant cannon; tom swift; sandy hook; asked ned; captain badger; big gun; panama canal
Contributor(s): Wormeley, Katharine Prescott, 1830-1908 [Translator]
Versions: original; local mirror; HTML (this file); printable
Services: find in a library; evaluate using concordance
Rights: GNU General Public License
Size: 44,020 words (really short) Grade range: 6-8 (grade school) Readability score: 76 (easy)
Identifier: etext1361
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Tom Swift And His Giant Cannon
The Longest Shots on Record

by Victor Appleton

June, 1998  [Etext #1361]

**Project Gutenberg's Etext of Tom Swift And His Giant Cannon**
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The Longest Shots on Record






"Now, see here, Mr. Swift, you may think it all a sort of
dream, and imagine that I don't know what I'm talking about; but
I do! If you'll consent to finance this expedition to the extent
of, say, ten thousand dollars, I'll practically guarantee to give
you back five times that sum

"I don't know, Alec, I don't know," slowly responded the aged
inventor. "I've heard those stories before, and in my experience
nothing ever came of them. Buried treasure, and lost vessels
filled with gold, are all well and good, but hunting for an opal
mine on some little-heard-of island goes them one better."

"Then you don't feel like backing me up in this matter, Mr.

"No, Alec, I can't say I do. Why, just stop and think for a
minute. You're asking me to put ten thousand dollars into a
company, to fit out an expedition to go to this island--somewhere
down near Panama, you say it is--and try to locate the lost mine
from which, some centuries ago, opals and other precious stones
came. It doesn't seem reasonable."

"But I'm sure I can find the mine, Mr. Swift!" persisted Alec
Peterson, who was almost as elderly a man as the one he
addressed. "I have the old documents that tell how rich the mine
once was, how the old Mexican rulers used to get their opals from
it, and how all trace of it was lost in the last century. I have
all the landmarks down pat, and I'm sure I can find it. Come on
now, take a chance. Put in this ten thousand dollars. I can
manage the rest. You'll get back more than five times your

"If you find the mine--yes."

"I tell you I will find it! Come now, Mr. Swift," and the
visitor's voice was very pleading, "you and your son Tom have
made a fortune for yourselves out of your different inventions.
Be generous, and lend me this ten thousand dollars."

Mr. Swift shook his head.

"I've heard you talk the same way before, Alec," he replied.
"None of your schemes ever amounted to anything. You've been a
fortune-hunter all your life, nearly; and what have you gotten
out of it? Just a bare living."

"That's right, Mr. Swift, but I've had bad luck. I did find the
lost gold mine I went after some years ago, you remember."

"Yes, only to lose it because the missing heirs turned up, and
took it away from you. You could have made more at straight
mining in the time you spent on that scheme."

"Yes, I suppose I could; but this is going to be a success--I
feel it in my bones."

"That's what you say, every time, Alec. No, I don't believe I
want to go into this thing."

"Oh, come--do! For the sake of old times. Don't you recall how
you and I used to prospect together out in the gold country; how
we shared our failures and successes?"

"Yes, I remember that, Alec. Mighty few successes we had,
though, in those days."

"But now you've struck it rich, pardner," went on the pleader.
"Help me out in this scheme--do!"

"No, Alec. I'd rather give you three or four thousand dollars
for yourself, if you'd settle down to some steady work, instead
of chasing all over the country after visionary fortunes. You're
getting too old to do that."

"Well, it's a fact I'm no longer young. But I'm afraid I'm too
old to settle down. You can't teach an old dog new tricks,
pardner. This is my life, and I'll have to live it until I pass
out. Well, if you won't, you won't, I suppose. By the way, where
is Tom? I'd like to see him before I go back. He's a mighty fine

"That's what he is!" broke in a new voice. "Bless my overshoes,
but he is a smart lad! A wonderful lad, that's what! Why, bless
my necktie, there isn't anything he can't invent; from a button-
hook to a battleship! Wonderful boy--that's what!"

"I guess Tom's ears would burn if he could hear your praises,
Mr. Damon," laughed Mr. Swift. "Don't spoil him."

"Spoil Tom Swift? You couldn't do it in a hundred years!" cried
Mr. Damon, enthusiastically. "Bless my topknot! Not in a thousand
years--no, sir!"

"But where is he?" asked Mr. Peterson, who was evidently unused
to the extravagant manner of Mr. Damon.

"There he goes now!" exclaimed the gentleman who frequently
blessed himself, some article of his apparel, or some other
object. "There he goes now, flying over the house in that Humming
Bird airship of his. He said he was going to try out a new
magneto he'd invented, and it seems to be working all right. He
said he wasn't going to take much of a flight, and I guess he'll
soon be back. Look at him! Isn't he a great one, though!"

"He certainly is," agreed Mr. Peterson, as he and Mr. Swift
went to the window, from which Mr. Damon had caught a glimpse of
the youthful Inventor in his airship. "A great lad. I wish he
could come on this mine-hunt with me, though I'd never consent to
go in an airship. They're too risky for an old man like me."

"They're as safe as a church when Tom Swift runs them!"
declared Mr. Damon. "I'm no boy, but I'd go anywhere with Tom."

"I'm afraid you wouldn't get Tom to go with you, Alec," went on
Mr. Swift, as he resumed his chair, the young inventor in his
airship having passed out of sight. "He's busy on some new
invention now, I believe. I think I heard him say something about
a new rifle."

"Cannon it was, Mr. Swift," said Mr. Damon. "Tom has an idea
that he can make the biggest cannon in the world; but it's only
an idea yet."

"Well, then I guess there's no hope of my interesting him in my
opal mine," said the fortune-hunter, with rather a disappointed
smile. "Nor you either, Mr. Swift."

"No, Alec, I'm afraid not. As I said, I'd rather give you
outright three or four thousand dollars, if you wanted it,
provided that you used it for your own personal needs, and
promised not to sink it in some visionary search."

Mr. Peterson shook his head.

"I'm not actually in want," he said, "and I couldn't accept a
gift of money, Mr. Swift. This is a straight business

"Not much straight business in hunting for a mine that's been
lost for over a century," replied the aged inventor, with a
glance at Mr. Damon, who was still at the window, watching for a
glimpse of Tom on his return trip in the air craft.

"If Tom would go, I'd trail along," said the odd man. "We
haven't done anything worth speaking of since he used his great
searchlight to detect the smugglers. But I don't believe he'll
go. That mining proposition sounds good."

"It is good!" cried Mr. Peterson, with fervor, hoping he had
found a new "prospect" in Mr. Damon.

"But not business-good," declared Mr. Swift, and for some time
the three argued the matter, Mr. Swift continuing to shake his

Suddenly into the room there ran an aged colored man, much

"Fo' de land sakes!" he cried. "Somebody oughter go out an'
help Massa Tom!"

"Why, what's the matter, Eradicate?" asked Mr. Swift, leaping
to his feet, an example followed by the other two men. "What has
happened to my son?"

"I dunno, Massa Swift, but I looked up jest now, an' dere he
be, in dat air-contraption ob his'n he calls de Hummin' Burd.
He's ketched up fast on de balloon shed roof, an' dere he's
hangin' wif sparks an' flames a-shootin' outer de airship suffin'
scandalous! It's jest spittin' fire, dat's what it's a-doin', an'
ef somebody don't do suffin' fo' Massa Tom mighty quick, dere
ain't gwin t' be any Massa Tom; now dat's what I'se aÄtellin'

"Bless my shoe buttons!" gasped Mr. Damon. "Come on out,
everybody! We've got to help Tom!"

"Yes!" assented Mr. Swift. "Call someone on the telephone! Get
a doctor! Maybe he's shocked! Where's Koku, the giant? Maybe he
can help!"

"Now doan't yo' go t' gittin' all excited-laik," objected
Eradicate Sampson, the aged colored man. "Remember yo' all has
got a weak heart, Massa Swift!"

"I know it; but I must save my son. Hurry!"

Mr. Swift ran from the room, followed by Mr. Damon and Mr.
Peterson, while Eradicate trailed after them as fast as his
tottering limbs would carry him, murmuring to himself.

"There he is!" cried Mr. Damon, as he caught sight of the young
inventor in his airship, in a position of peril. Truly it was as
Eradicate had said. Caught on the slope of the roof of his big
balloon shed, Tom Swift was in great danger.

From his airship there shot dazzling sparks, and streamers of
green and violet fire. There was a snapping, cracking sound that
could be heard above the whir of the craft's propellers, for the
motor was still running.

"Oh, Tom! Tom! What is it? What has happened?" cried his

"Keep back! Don't come too close!" yelled the young inventor,
as he clung to the seat of the aeroplane, that was tilted at a
dangerous angle. "Keep away!"

"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Damon. "Bless my pocket comb
--what is it?"

"A live wire!" answered Tom. "I'm caught in a live wire! The
trailer attached to the wireless outfit on my airship is crossed
with the wire from the power plant. There's a short circuit
somewhere. Don't come too close, for it may burn through any
second and drop down. Then it will twist about like a snake!"

"Land ob massy!" cried Eradicate.

"What can we do to help you?" called Mr. Swift. "Shall I run
and shut off the power?" for in the shop where Tom did most of
his inventive work there was a powerful dynamo, and it was on one
of the wires extending from it, that brought current into the
house, that the craft had caught.

"Yes, shut it off if you can!" Tom shouted back. "But be
careful. Don't get shocked! Wow! I got a touch of it myself that
time!" and he could be seen to writhe in his seat.

"Oh, hurry! hurry! Find Koku!" cried Mr. Swift to Mr. Damon,
who had started for the power house on the run.

The sparks and lances of fire seemed to increase around the
young inventor. The airship could be seen to slip slowly down the
sloping roof.

"Land ob massy! He am suah gwine t' fall!" yelled Eradicate.

"Oh, he'll never get that current shut off in time!" murmured
Mr. Swift, as he started after Mr. Damon.

"Wait! I think I have a plan!" called Mr. Peterson. "I think I
can save Tom!"

He did not waste further time in talk, but, running to a nearby
shed, he got a long ladder that he saw standing under it. With
this over his shoulder he retraced his steps to the balloon
hangar and placed the ladder against the side. Then he started to
climb up.

"What are you going to do?" yelled Tom, leaning over from his
seat to watch the elderly fortune-hunter.

"I'm going to cut that wire!" was the answer.

"Don't! If you touch it you'll be shocked to death! I may be
able to get out of here. So far I've only had light shocks, but
the insulation is burning out of my magneto, and that will soon
stop. When it does I can't run the motor, and--"

"I'm going to cut that wire!" again shouted Mr. Peterson.

"But you can't, without pliers and rubber gloves!" yelled Tom.
"Keep away, I tell you!"

The man on the ladder hesitated. Evidently he had not thought
of the necessity of protecting his hands by rubber covering, in
order that the electricity might be made harmless. He backed down
to the ground.

"I saw a pair of old gloves in the shed!" he cried. "I'll get
them--they look like rubber."

"They are!" cried Tom, remembering now that he had been putting
up a new wire that day, and had left his rubber gloves there.
"But you haven't any pliers!" the lad went. "How can you cut wire
without them? There's a pair in the shop, but--"

"Heah dey be! Heah dey be!" cried Eradicate, as he produced a
heavy pair from his pocket. "I--I couldn't find de can-opener fo'
Mrs. Baggert, an' I jest got yo' pliers, Massa Tom. Oh, how glad
I is dat I did. Here's de pincers, Massa Peterson."

He handed them to the fortune-hunter, who came running back
with the rubber gloves. Mr. Damon was no more than half way to
the power house, which was quite a distance from the Swift
homestead. Meanwhile Tom's airship was slipping more and more,
and a thick, pungent smoke now surrounded it, coming from the
burning insulation. The sparks and electrical flames were worse
than ever.

"Just a moment now, and I'll have you safe!" cried the fortune-
hunter, as he again mounted the ladder. Luckily the charged wire
was near enough to be reached by going nearly to the top of the

Holding the pincers in his rubber-gloved hands, the old man
quickly snipped the wire. There was a flash of sparks as the
copper conductor was severed, and then the shower of sparks about
Tom's airship ceased.

In another second he had turned on full power, the propellers
whizzed with the quickness of light, and he rose in the air, off
the shed roof, the live wire no longer entangling him. Then he
made a short circuit of the work-shop yard, and came to the
ground safely a little distance from the balloon hangar.

"Saved! Tom is saved!" cried Mr. Swift, who had seen the act of
Mr. Peterson from a distance. "He saved my boy's life!"

"Thanks, Mr. Peterson!" exclaimed the young inventor, as he
left his seat and walked up to the fortune-hunter. "You certainly
did me a good turn then. It was touch and go! I couldn't have
stayed there many seconds longer. Next time I'll know better than
to fly with a wireless trailer over a live conductor," and he
held out his hand to Mr. Peterson.

"I'm glad I could help you, Tom," spoke the other, warmly. "I
was afraid that if you had to wait until they shut off the power
it would be too late."

"It would--it would--er--I feel--I--"

Tom's voice trailed off into a whisper and he swayed on his

"Cotch him!" cried Eradicate. "Cotch him! Massa Tom's hurt!"
and only just in time did Mr. Peterson clutch the young inventor
in his arms. For Tom, white of face, had fallen back in a dead



"Carry him into the house!" cried Mr. Swift, as he came running
to where Mr. Peterson was loosening Tom's collar.

"Git a doctor!" murmured Eradicate. "Call someone on de
tellifoam! Git fo' doctors!"

"We must get him into the house first," declared Mr. Damon,
who, seeing that Tom was off the shed roof, had stopped mid-way
to the powerhouse, and retraced his steps. "Let's carry him into
the house. Bless my pocketbook! but he must have been shocked
worse than he thought."

They lifted the inert form of our hero and walked toward the
mansion with him, Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper, standing in the
doorway in dismay, uncertain what to do.

And while Tom is being cared for I will take just a moment to
tell my new readers something more about him and his inventions,
as they have been related in the previous books of this series.

The first volume was called "Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle,"
and this machine was the means of his becoming acquainted with
Mr. Wakefield Damon, the odd gentleman who so often blessed
things. On his motor-cycle Tom had many adventures.

The lad was of an inventive mind, as was his father, and in the
succeeding books of the series, which you will find named in
detail elsewhere, I related how Tom got a motorboat, made an
airship, and later a submarine, in all of which craft he had
strenuous times and adventures.

His electric runabout was quite the fastest car on the road,
and when he sent his wonderful wireless message he saved himself
and others from Earthquake Island. He solved the secret of the
diamond makers, and, though he lost a fine balloon in the caves
of ice, he soon had another air craft--a regular sky-racer. His
electric rifle saved a party from the red pygmies in Elephant
Land, and in his air glider he found the platinum treasure. With
his wizard camera, Tom took wonderful moving pictures, and in the
volume immediately preceding this present one, called "Tom Swift
and His Great Searchlight," I had the pleasure of telling you how
the lad captured the smugglers who were working against Uncle Sam
over the border.

Tom, as you will see, had, with the help of his father,
perfected many wonderful inventions. The lad lived with his aged
parent, his mother being dead, in the village of Shopton, in New
York State.

While the house, which was presided over by the motherly Mrs.
Baggert, was large, it was almost lost now amid the many
buildings surrounding it, from balloon and airship hangars, to
shops where varied work was carried on. For Tom did most of his
labor himself, of course with men to help him at the heavier
tasks. Occasionally he had to call on outside shops.

In the household, beside his father, himself and Mrs. Baggert,
was Eradicate Sampson, an aged colored man-of-all-work, who said
he was called "Eradicate" because he eradicated dirt. There was
also Koku, a veritable giant, one of two brothers whom Tom had
brought with him from Giant Land, when he escaped from captivity
there, as related in the book of that name.

Mr. Damon was, with Ned Newton, Tom's chum, the warmest friend
of the family, and was often at Tom's home, coming from the
neighboring town of Waterford, where he lived.

Tom had been back some time now from working for the government
in detecting the smugglers, but, as you may well suppose, he had
not been idle. Inventing a number of small things, including
useful articles for the house, was a sort of recreation for him,
but his mind was busy on one great scheme, which I will tell you
about in due time.

Among other things he had just perfected a new style of magneto
for one of his airships. The magneto, as you know, is a sort of
small dynamo, that supplies the necessary spark to the cylinder,
to explode the mixture of air and gasoline vapor. He was trying
out this magneto in the Humming Bird when the accident I have
related in the first chapter occurred.

"There! He's coming to!" exclaimed Mrs. Baggert, as she leaned
over Tom, who was stretched out on the sofa in the library. "Give
him another smell of this ammonia," she went on, handing the
bottle to Mr. Swift.

"No--no," faintly murmured Tom, opening his eyes. "I--I've had
enough of that, if you please! I'm all right."

"Are you sure, Tom?" asked his father. "Aren't you hurt

"Not a bit, Dad! It was foolish of me to go off that way; but I
couldn't seem to help it. It all got black in front of me, and--
well, I just keeled over."

"I should say you did," spoke Mr. Peterson.

"An' ef he hadn't a-been there to cotch yo' all," put in
Eradicate, "yo' all suah would hab hit de ground mighty hard."

"That's two services he did for me today," said Tom, as he
managed to sit up. "Cutting that wire--well, it saved my life,
that's certain."

"I believe you, Tom," said Mr. Swift, solemnly, and he held out
his hand to his old mining partner.

"Do you need the doctor?" asked Mr. Damon, who was at the
telephone. "He says he'll come right over--I can get him in Tom's
electric runabout, if you say so. He's on the wire now."

"No, I don't need him," replied the young inventor. "Thank him
just the same. It was only an ordinary faint, caused by the
slight electrical shocks, and by getting a bit nervous, I guess.
I'm all right--see," and he proved it by standing up.

"He's ail right--don't come, doctor," said Mr. Damon into the
telephone. "Bless my keyring!" he exclaimed, "but that was a
strenuous time!"

"I've been in some tight places before," went on Tom, as he sat
down in an easy chair, "and I've had any number of shocks when
I've been experimenting, but this was a sort of double
combination, and it sure had me guessing. But I'm feeling better
every minute."

"A cup of hot tea will do you good," said motherly Mrs.
Baggert, as she bustled out of the room. "I'll make it for you."

"You cut that wire as neatly as any lineman could," went on
Tom, glancing from Mr. Peterson out of the window to where one of
his workmen was repairing the break. "When I flew over it in my
airship I never gave a thought to the trailer from my wireless
outfit. The first I knew I was caught back, and then pulled down
to the balloon shed roof, for I tilted the deflecting rudder by

"But, Mr. Peterson," Tom went on, "I haven't seen you in some
time. Anything new on, that brings you here?" for the fortune-
hunter had called at the Swift house after Tom had gone out to
the shop to get his airship ready for the flight to try the

"Well, Tom, I have something rather new on," replied Mr.
Peterson. "I hoped to interest your father in it, but he doesn't
seem to care to take a chance. It's a lost opal mine on a little-
known island in the Caribbean Sea not far from the city of Colon.
I say not far--by that I mean about twenty miles. But your father
doesn't want to invest, say, ten thousand dollars in it, though I
can almost guarantee that he'll get five times that sum back. So,
as long as he doesn't feel that he can help me out, I guess I'd
better be traveling on."

"Hold on! Wait a minute. Don't be in a hurry," said Mr. Swift.

Mr. Peterson was an old friend, and when he and Mr. Swift were
young men they had prospected and grub-staked together. But Mr.
Swift soon gave that up to devote his time to his inventions,
while Mr. Peterson became a sort of rolling stone.

He was a good man, but somewhat visionary, and a bit inclined
to "take chances"--such as looking for lost treasure--rather than
to devote himself to some steady employment. The result was that
he led rather a precarious life, though never being actually in

"No, pardner," he said to Mr. Swift. "It's kind of you to ask
me to stay; but this mine business has got a grip on me. I want
to try it out. If you won't finance the project someone else may.
I'll say good-bye, and--"

"Now just a minute," said Mr. Swift. "It's true, Alec, I had
about made up my mind not to go into this thing, when this
accident happened to Tom. Now you practically saved his life.

"Oh, pshaw! I only acted on the spur of the moment. Anyone
could have done what I did," protested the fortune-hunter.

"Oh, but you did it!" insisted Mr. Swift, "and you did it in
the nick of time. Now I wouldn't for a moment think of offering
you a reward for saving my son's life. But I do feel mighty
friendly toward you--not that I didn't before--but I do want to
help you. Alec, I will go into this business with you. We'll take
a chance! I'll invest ten thousand dollars, and I'm not so awful
worried about getting it back, either--though I don't believe in
throwing money away."

"You won't throw it away in this case!" declared Mr. Peterson,
eagerly. "I'm sure to find that mine; but it will take a little
capital to work it. That's what I need--capital!"

"Well, I'll supply it to the extent of ten thousand dollars,"
said Mr. Swift. "Tom, what do you think of it? Am I foolish or

"Not a bit of it, Dad!" cried the young man, who was now
himself again. "I'm glad you took that chance, for, if you
hadn't--well, I would have supplied the money myself--that's
all," and he smiled at the fortune-hunter.



"BUT, Tom, I don't see how in the world you can ever hope to
make a bigger gun than that."

"I think it can be done, Ned," was the quiet answer of the
young inventor. He looked up from some drawings on the table in
the office of one of his shops. "Now I'll just show you--"

"Hold on, Tom. You know I have a very poor head for figures,
even if I do help you out once in a while on some of your work.
Skip the technical details, and give me the main facts."

The two young men--Ned Newton being Tom's special chum--were
talking together over Tom's latest scheme.

It was several days after Tom's accident in the airship, when
he had been saved by the prompt action of Mr. Peterson. That
fortune-hunter, once he had the promise of Mr. Swift to invest in
his somewhat visionary plan of locating a lost opal mine near the
Panama Canal, had left the Swift homestead to arrange for fitting
out the expedition of discovery. He had tried to prevail on Tom
to accompany him, and, failing in that, tried to work on Mr.

"Bless my watch chain!" exclaimed that odd gentleman. "I would
like to go with you first rate. But I'm so busy--so very busy--
that I can't think of it. I have simply neglected all my affairs,
chasing around the country with Tom Swift. But if Tom goes I--
ahem! I think perhaps I could manage it--ahem!"

"I thought you were busy," laughed Tom.

"Oh, well, perhaps I could get a few weeks off. But I'm not
going--no, bless my check book, I must get back to business!"

But as Mr. Damon was a retired gentleman of wealth, his
"business" was more or less of a joke among his friends.

So then, a few days after the departure of Mr. Peterson, Tom
and Ned sat in the former's office, discussing the young
inventor's latest scheme.

"How big is the biggest gun ever made, Tom?" asked his chum. "I
mean in feet, in inches, or in muzzle diameter, however they are

"Well," began Tom, "of course some nation may, in secret, be
making a bigger gun than any I have ever heard of. As far as I
know, however, the largest one ever made for the United States
was a sixteen-inch rifled cannon--that is, it was sixteen inches
across at the muzzle, and I forget just how long. It weighed many
tons, however, and it now lies, or did a few years ago, in a
ditch at the Sandy Hook proving grounds. It was a failure."

"And yet you are figuring on making a cannon with a muzzle
thirty inches across--almost a yard--and fifty feet long and to

"No one can tell exactly how much it will weigh," interrupted
Tom. "And I'm not altogether certain about the muzzle
measurement, nor of the length. It's sort of in the air at
present. Only I don't see why a larger gun than any that has yet
been made, can't be constructed."

"If anybody can invent one, you can, Tom Swift!" exclaimed Ned,

"You flatter me!" exclaimed his chum, with a mock bow.

"But what good will it be?" went on Ned. "Making big guns
doesn't help any in war, that I can see."

"Ned!" exclaimed Tom, "you don't look far enough ahead. Now
here's my scheme in a nutshell. You know what Uncle Sam is doing
down in his big ditch; don't you?"

"You mean digging the Panama Canal?"

Yes, the greatest engineering feat of centuries. It is going
to make a big change in the whole world, and the United States is
going to become--if she is not already--a world-power. Now that
canal has to be protected--I mean against the possibility of
war. For, though it may never come, and the chances are it never
will, still it may.

"Uncle Sam has to be ready for it. There never was a more true
saying than 'in time of peace prepare for war.' Preparing for
war is, in my opinion, the best way not to have one.

"Once the Panama Canal is in operation, and the world-changes
incidental to it have been made, if it should pass into the hands
of some foreign country--as it very possibly might do--the United
States would not only be the laughing-stock of the world, but she
would lose the high place she holds.

"Now, then, to protect the canal, several things are necessary.
Among them are big guns--cannon that can shoot a long distance--
for if a foreign nation should send some of their new
dreadnaughts over here--vessels with guns that can shoot many
miles--where would the canal be once a bombardment was opened? It
would be ruined in a day--the immense lock-gates would be
destroyed. And, not only from the guns aboard ships would there
be danger, but from siege cannon planted in Costa Rica, or some
South American country below the canal zone.

"Now, to protect the canal against such an attack we need guns
that can shoot farther, straighter and more powerfully than any
at present in use, and we've got to have the most powerful
explosive. In other words, we've got to beat the biggest guns
that are now in existence. And I'm going to do it, Ned!"

"You are?"

"Yes, I'm going to invent a cannon that will make the longest
shots on record. I'm going to make a world-beater gun; or,
rather, I'm going to invent it, and have it made, for I guess it
would tax this place to the limit.

"I've been thinking of this for some time, Ned. I've been
puttering around inventing new magnetos, potato-parers and the
like, but this is my latest hobby. The Panama Canal is a big
thing--one of the biggest things in the world. We need the
biggest guns in the world to protect it.

"And, listen: Uncle Sam thinks the same way. I understand that
the best men in the service--at West Point, Annapolis and Sandy
Hook, as well as elsewhere--are working in the interest of the
United States to perfect a bigger cannon than any ever before
made. In fact, one has just been constructed, and is going to be
tried at the Sandy Hook proving grounds soon. I'm going to see
the test if I can.

"And here's another thing. Foreign nations are trying to steal
Uncle Sam's secrets. If this country gets a big cannon, some
other nation will want a bigger one. It's a constant warfare. I'm
going to devote my talents--such as they are--to Uncle Sam. I'm
going to make the biggest cannon in the world--the one that will
shoot the farthest and knock into smithereens all the other big
guns. That's the only way to protect the canal. Do you
understand, Ned?"

"Somewhat, Tom. Since I gave up my place in the bank, and
became a sort of handy-lad for you, I know more about your work.
But isn't it going to be dangerous to make a cannon like that?"

"Well, in a way, yes, Ned. But we've got to take chances, just
as father did when he invested ten thousand dollars in that opal
mine. He'll never see his money again."

"Don't you think so?"

"No, Ned."

"And when do you expect to start on your gun, Tom?"

"Right away. I'm making some plans now. I'm going down to Sandy
Hook and witness the test of this new big cannon. You can come
along, if you like."

"Well, I sure will like. When is it?"

"Oh, in about a week. I'll have to look--"

"'Scuse me, Massa Tom," broke in Eradicate, as he put his head
through the half-opened office door. "'Scuse me, but dere's a
express gen'men outside, wif his auto truck, an' he's got some
packages fo' yo' all, marked 'dangerous--explosive--an' keep away
fom de fire.' He want t' know what he all gwine t' do wif 'em,
Massa Tom?"

"Do with 'em? Oh, I guess it's that new giant powder I sent
for. Why, Eradicate, have him bring 'em right in here."

"Yais, sah, Massa Tom. Dat's all right; but he jest can't bring
'em in," and Eradicate looked behind him somewhat apprehensively.

"Can't bring 'em in? Why not, I'd like to know?" exclaimed Tom.
"He's paid for it."

"'Scuse me, Massa Tom," said the colored man, "but dat express
gen'men can't bring dem explosive powder boxes in heah, 'case as
how his autermobile hab done ketched fire an' he cain't get near
it nohow. Dat's why, Massa Tom!"

"Caesar's ghost!" yelled the young inventor. "The auto on fire,
and that powder in it! Come on Ned!" and he made a rush for the



"Tom! Tom!" cried Ned, as he watched the disappearing figure of
his chum. "Come back here! If there's going to be an explosion we
ought to run out of the back door!"

"I'm not running away!" flashed back Tom. "I'm going to get
that powder out of the auto before it goes up! If it does we'll
be blown to kingdom come, back door or front door! Come on!"

"Bacon and eggs!" yelled Ned. "He's running an awful risk! But
I can't let him go alone! I guess we're in for it!"

Then he, too, rushed from the office toward the front of the
shop, before which, in a sort of private road, stood the blazing
auto. And Ned, who had now lost sight of Tom, because of our hero
having turned a corner in the corridor, heard excited shouts
coming from the seat of trouble.

"If that's some new kind of powder Tom's sent for, to test for
his new big gun, and it goes up," Ned said to himself, as he
rushed on, "this place will be blown to smithereens. All Tom's
valuable machinery and patents will be ruined!"

Ned had now reached the front door of the shop. He had a
glimpse of the burning auto--a small express truck, well loaded
with various packages. And, through the smoke, which from the
odor must have been caused by burning gasoline, Ned could see
several boxes marked in red letters:



"Keep away from fire!" murmured the panting lad. "If they can
get any nearer fire I don't see how."

"Oh, mah golly!" gasped Eradicate, who had lumbered on behind
Ned. "Oh, mah golly! Oh, good land ob massy! Look at Massa Tom!"

"I've got to help him!" cried Ned, for he saw that his chum had
rushed to the rear of the auto, and was endeavoring to drag one
of the powder boxes across the lowered tail-board. Tom was
straining and tugging at it, but did not seem able to move the
case. It was heavy, as Ned learned later, and was also held down
by the weight of other express packages on top of it.

"Oh, mah golly!" cried Eradicate. "Git some watah, somebody,
an' put out dat fire!"

"No--no water!" yelled Tom, who heard him. "Water will only
make it worse--it'll scatter the blazing gasoline. The feed pipe
from the tank must have burst. Throw on sand--sand is the only
thing to use!"

"I'll git a shubble!" cried Eradicate. "I'll git a sand-
shubble!" and he tottered off.

"Wait, Tom, I'll give you a hand!" cried Ned, as he saw his
chum step away from the end of the auto for a moment, as a burst
of flame, and choking smoke, driven by the wind, was blown almost
in his face. "I'll help you!"

"We've got to be lively, then, Ned!" gasped Tom. "This is
getting hotter every minute! Where's that Koku? He could yank
these boxes out in a jiffy!"

And indeed a giant's strength was needed at that moment.

Ned glanced around to see if he could catch a glimpse of the
big man whom Tom had brought from Giant Land, but Koku was not in

"Let's have another try now, Ned!" suggested Tom, when a shift
in the wind left the rear of the auto comparatively free from
smoke and flame.

"You fellows had better skip!" cried the expressman, who had
been throwing light packages off his vehicle from in front,
where, as yet, there was no fire. "That powder'll go up in
another minute. Some of the boxes are beginning to catch now!" he
yelled. "Look out!"

"That's right!" shouted Tom, as he saw that the edge of one of
the wooden cases containing the powder was blazing slightly.
"Lively, Ned!"

Ned held back only for a second. Then, realizing that the time
to act was now or never, and that even if he ran he could hardly
save himself, he advanced to Tom's side. The smoke was choking
and stifling them, and the flames, coming from beneath the auto
truck, made them gasp for breath.

Together Tom and Ned tugged at the nearest case of powder--the
one that was ablaze.

"We--we can't budge it!" panted Tom.

"It--it's caught somewhere," added Ned. "Oh, if Koku were only

There was a sound behind the lads. A voice exclaimed:

"Master want shovel, so Eradicate say--here it is!"

They turned and saw a big, powerful man, with a simple, child-
like face, standing calmly looking at the burning auto.

"Koku!" cried Tom. "Quick! Never mind the shovel! Get those
powder boxes out of that cart before they go up! Yank 'em out!
They're too much for Ned and me! Quick!"

"Oh, of a courseness I will so do!" said Koku, to whom, even
yet, the English language was somewhat of a mystery. He dropped
the shovel, and, heedless of the thick smoke from the burning
gasoline, reached over and took hold of the nearest box. It
seemed as though he pulled it from the auto truck as easily as
Tom might have lifted a cork.

Then, carrying the box, which was now burning quite fiercely on
one corner, over toward Tom and Ned, who had moved back, the
giant asked:

"What you want of him, Master?"

"Put it down, Koku, and get out all the others! Lively, now,

"I do," was the simple answer. The giant put the box on the
grass and ran back toward the auto.

"Quick, Ned!" shouted Tom. "Throw some sand on this burning
box! That will put out the fire!"

A few handfuls of earth served to extinguish the little blaze,
and by this time Koku had come back with another box of powder.

"Get 'em all, Koku, get 'em all! Then we can put out the fire
on the auto."

For the giant it was but child's play to carry the heavy boxes
of powder, and soon he had them all removed from the truck. Then,
with the danger thus narrowly averted, they all, including the
expressman, turned in and began throwing sand on the fire, which
now had a good hold on the body of the auto. The shovel, which
Eradicate had sent by Koku, who could use more speed than could
the aged colored man, came in handy.

Soon the fire was out, though not before the truck had been
badly damaged, and some of its load destroyed. But, beyond a
charring of some of the powder boxes, the explosive was intact.

"Whew! That was a lucky escape," murmured Tom, as he sat down
on one of the boxes, and wiped the smoke and sweat from his face.
"A little later and there'd only been a hole in the ground to
tell what happened. hot work; eh, Ned?"

"I guess yes, Tom."

"I thought of the powder as soon as I saw that the truck was on
fire," explained the expressman; "but I didn't know what to do. I
was kinder flustered, I guess. This is the second time this old
truck has caught fire from a leaky gasoline pipe. I guess that
will be the last--it will for me, anyhow. I'll resign if they
don't give me another machine. Will you sign for your stuff?" he
asked Tom, holding out the receipt book, which had escaped the

"Yes, and I'm mighty glad I'm here to sign for it," replied the
young inventor. "Now, Koku, I guess you can take that stuff up to
the shop; but be careful where you put it."

"I do, Master," replied the giant.

"What sort of powder is that, Tom?" asked Ned a little later,
when they were again back in the office, the excitement having
calmed down. The expressman had gone back to town afoot, to
arrange about getting another vehicle for what remained of his
load. "Is it the kind they use in big guns?"

"One of the kinds," replied Tom. "I sent for several samples,
and this is one. I'm going to conduct some tests to see what kind
I'll need for my own big gun. But I expect I'll have to invent an
explosive as well as a cannon, for I want the most powerful I can
get. Want to look at some of this powder?"

"Yes, if you think it's safe."

"Oh, it's safe enough if you treat it right. I'll show you,"
and working carefully Tom soon had one of the boxes open.
Reaching into the depths he held up a handful of something that
looked like sticks of macaroni. "There it is," he said.

"That powder?" cried Ned. "That's a queer kind. I've seen the
kind they use in some guns on the battleships. That powder was in
hexagonal form, about two inches across, and had a hole in the
centre. It was colored brown."

"Well, powder is made in many forms," explained Tom. "A person
who has only seen black gunpowder, with its little grains, would
not believe that this was one grain of the new powder."

"That macaroni stick a grain of powder?" cried Ned.

"Yes, we'll call it a grain," went on the young inventor, "just
as the brown, hexagonal cube you saw was a grain. You see, Ned,
the idea is to explode all the powder at once--to get
instantaneous action. It must all burn up at once as soon as it
is detonated, or set off.

"To do that you have to have every grain acted on at the same
moment, and that could not be done if the powder was in one solid
chunk, or closely packed. For that reason they make it in
different shapes, so it will lie loose in the firing chamber,
just as a lot of jack-straws are piled up. In fact, some of the
new powder looks like jack-straws. Some, as this, for instance,
looks like macaroni. Other is in cubes, and some in long

As he spoke Tom struck a match and held the flames near the end
of one of the "macaroni" sticks.

"Caesar's grandmother!" yelled Ned. "Are you crazy, Tom?" as he
started to leap for a window.

"Don't get excited," spoke Tom, quietly. "There's no danger,"
and he actually set fire to the stick of queer powder, which
burned like some wax taper.

"But--but--" stammered Ned.

"It is only when powder is confined that it explodes," Tom
explained. "If it can burn in the open it's as harmless as water,
provided you don't burn too much at once. But put it in something
where the resulting gases accumulate and can't escape, and then--
why, you have an explosion--that's all."

"Yes--that's all," remarked Ned, grimly, as he nervously
watched the burning stick of powder. Tom let it flame for a few
seconds, and then calmly blew it out.

"You know what a little puff black gunpowder gives, if you burn
some openly on the ground," went on Tom; "don't you, Ned?"

"Sure, I've often done that."

"But put that same powder in a tight box, and set fire to it,
and you have a bang instead of a puff. It's the same way with
this powder, only it doesn't even puff, for it burns more slowly.

"An explosion, you see, is the sudden liberation at one time of
the gases which result when the powder is burned. If the gases
are given off gradually, and in the open, no harm is done. But
put a stick like this in, say, a steel box, all closed up, save a
hole for the fuse, and what do you have? An explosion. That's the
principle of all guns and cannon.

"But say, Ned, I'm getting to be a regular lecturer. I didn't
know I was running on so. Why didn't you stop me?"

"Because I was interested. Go on, tell me some more."

"Not now. I want to get this powder in a safe place. I'm a
little nervous about it after that fire. You see if it had
caught, when tightly packed in the boxes, there would have been a
terrific explosion, though it does burn so harmlessly in the open
air. Now let me see--"

Tom was interrupted by the postman's whistle, and a little
later Eradicate came in with the mail that had been left in the
box at the shop door. Tom rapidly looked over the letters.

"Here's the note I want, I think," he said, Selecting one.
"Yes, this is it. 'Permission is hereby granted,' he read, 'to
Thomas Swift to visit,' and so on, and so on. This is the stuff,
Ned!" he cried.

"What is it?"

"A permit to visit the government proving grounds at Sandy
Hook, Ned, and see 'em test that new big gun I was telling you
about. Hurray! We'll go down there, and I'll see how my ideas fit
in with those of the government's experts."

"Did you say 'we' would go down, Tom?"

"I sure did. You'll go with me; won't you?"

"Well, I hadn't thought very much about it, but I guess I will.
When is it?"

"A week from today, and I'm going to need all that time to get
ready. Now let's get busy, and we'll arrange to go to Sandy Hook.
I've had trouble enough to get this permit--I guess I'll put it
where it won't get lost," and he locked it in a secret drawer of
his desk.

Then the lads stored the powder in a safe place, and soon were
busy about several matters in the shop.



"What's the idea of this government test of the big gun, Tom?"
asked Ned. "I got so excited about that near-explosion the other
day, that I didn't think to ask you all the particulars."

"Why, the idea is to see if the gun will work, and do all that
the inventor claims for it," was the answer. "They always put a
new gun through more severe tests than anything it will be called
on to stand in actual warfare. They want to see just how much
margin of safety there is."

"Oh I see. And is this one of the guns that are to be used in
fortifying the Panama Canal?"

"Well, Ned, I don't know, exactly. You see, the government
isn't telling all its secrets. I assume that it is, and that's
why I'm anxious to see what sort of a gun it is.

"As a matter of fact, I'm going into this thing on a sort of
chance, just as dad did when he invested in Mr. Peterson's opal

"Do you think anything will come of that, Tom?"

"I don't know. If we get down to Panama, after I have made my
big gun, we may take a run over, and see how he is making out.
But, as I said, I'm going into this big cannon business on a sort
of gamble. I have heard, indirectly, that Uncle Sam intends to
use a new type of gun in fortifying the Panama Canal. It's about
forty-nine miles long, you know, and it will take many guns to
cover the whole route, as well as to protect the two entrances."

"Not so very many if you make a gun that will shoot thirty
miles," remarked Ned, with a smile.

"I'm not so sure I can do it," went on Tom. "But, even at that,
quite a number of guns will be needed. For if any foreign nation,
or any combination of nations, intend to get the canal away from
us, they won't make the attack from one point. They'll come at us
seven different ways for Sunday, and I've never heard yet of a
gun that can shoot seven ways at once. That's why so many will be

"But, as I said, I don't know just what type the Ordnance
Department will favor, and I want to get a line. Then, even if I
invent a cannon that will outshoot all the others, they may not
take mine. Though if they do, and buy a number of them, I'll be
more than repaid for my labor, besides having the satisfaction of
helping my country."

"Good for you, Tom! I wish it was time to go to Sandy Hook now.
I'm anxious to see that big gun. Do you know anything about it?"

"Not very much. I have heard that it is not quite as large as
the old sixteen-inch rifle that they had to throw away because of
some trouble, I don't know just what. It was impractical, in
spite of its size and great range. But this new gun they are
going to test is considerably smaller, I understand.

"It was invented by a General Wailer, and is, I think, about
twelve inches across at the muzzle. In spite of that
comparatively small size, it fires a projectile weighing a
thousand pounds, or half a ton, and takes five hundred pounds of
powder. Its range, of course, no one knows yet, though I have
heard it said that General Wailer claims it will shoot twenty

"Whew! Some shot!"

"I'm going to beat it," declared Tom, "and I want to do it
without making such a monstrous gun that it will be difficult to
cast it.

"You see, Ned, there is, theoretically, nothing to prevent the
casting of a steel rifled cannon that would be fifty inches
across at the muzzle, and making it a hundred feet long. I mean
it could be done on paper--figured out and all that. But whether
you would get a corresponding increase in power or range, and be
able to throw a relatively larger projectile, is something no one
knows, for there never has been such a gun made. Besides, the
strain of the big charge of powder needed would be enormous. So I
don't want merely to make a giant cannon. I want one that will do
a giant's work, and still be somewhere in the middle-sized

"I see. Well, you'll probably get some points at Sandy Hook."

"I think so. We go day after tomorrow."

"Is Mr. Damon going?'

"I think not. If he does I'll have to get another pass, for
mine only calls for two persons. I got it through a Captain
Badger, a friend of mine, stationed at the Sandy Hook barracks.
He doesn't have anything to do with the coast defense guns, but
he got the pass to the proving grounds for me."

Tom and his chum talked for some time about the prospects for
making a giant cannon, and then the young inventor, with Ned's
aid, made some powder tests, using some of the explosive that had
so nearly caught fire.

"It isn't just what I want," Tom decided, after he had put
small quantities in little steel bombs, and exploded them, at a
safe distance, and under a bank of earth, by means of an electric

"Why, Tom, that powder certainly burst the bombs all to
pieces," said Ned, picking up a shattered piece of steel.

"I know, but it isn't powerful enough for me. I'm going to send
for samples of another kind, and if I can't get what I want I'll
make my own powder. But come on now, this stuff gives me a
headache. Let's take a little flight in the Humming Bird. We'll
go see Mr. Damon," and soon the two lads were in the speedy
little monoplane, skimming along like the birds. The fresh air
soon blew away their headaches, caused by the fumes from the
nitro-glycerine, which was the basis of the powder. Dynamite will
often produce a headache in those who work with it.

Two days later Tom and Ned set off for Sandy Hook.

This long, neck-like strip of land on the New Jersey coast is,
as most of you know, one of the principal defenses of our

Foreign vessels that steam into New York harbor first have to
pass the line of terrible guns that, back of the earth and
concrete defenses, look frowningly out to sea. It is a wonderful

On the Sandy Hook Bay side of the Hook there is a life-saving
station. Right across, on the sea side, are the big guns. Between
are the barracks where the soldiers live, and part of the land is
given over to a proving ground, where many of the big guns are
taken to be tested.

Tom and Ned reached New York City without incident of moment,
and, after a night spent at a hotel, they went to the Battery,
whence the small government steamer leaves every day for Sandy
Hook. It is a trip of twenty-one miles, and as the bay was rather
rough that day, Tom and Ned had a taste of a real sea voyage. But
they were too experienced travelers to mind that, though some
other visitors were made quite ill.

A landing was made on the bay side of the Hook, it being too
rough to permit of a dock being constructed on the ocean side.

"Now we'll see what luck we have," spoke Tom, as he and Ned,
inquiring the way to the proving grounds from a soldier on duty,
started for them. On the way they passed some of the

"Look at that gun!" exclaimed Ned, pointing to a big cannon
which seemed to be crouched down in a sort of concrete pit. "How
can they fire that, Tom? The muzzle points directly at the stone
wall. Does the wall open when they want to fire?"

No, the gun raises up, peeps over the wall, so speak, shoots
out its projectile, and then crouches down again."

"Oh, you mean a disappearing gun."

"That's it, Ned. See, it works by compressed air," and Tom
showed his chum how, when the gun was loaded, the projectile in
place, and the breech-block screwed fast, the officer in charge
of the firing squad would, on getting the range from the soldier
detailed to calculate it, make the necessary adjustments, and
pull the lever.

The compressed air would fill the cylinders, forcing the gun to
rise on toggle-jointed arms, so that the muzzle was above the
bomb-proof wall. Then it would be fired, and sink back again, out
of sight of the enemy.

The boys looked at several different types of big rifled
cannon, and then passed on. They could hear firing in the
distance, some of the explosions shaking the ground.

"They're making some tests now," said Tom, hurrying forward.

Ned followed until, passing a sort of machine shop, the lads
came to where a sentry paced up and down a concrete walk.

"Are these the proving grounds?" asked Tom. "This is the
entrance to them," replied the soldier, bringing his rifle to
"port," according to the regulations. "What do you want?"

"To go in and watch the gun tests," replied Tom. "I have a
permit," and he held it out so the soldier could see it.

"That permit is no good here;" the sentry exclaimed.

"No good?" faltered Tom.

"No, it has to be countersigned by General Wailer. And, as he's
on the proving grounds now, you can't see him. He's getting ready
for the test of his new cannon."

"But that's just what we want to see!" cried Tom. "We want to
get in there purposely for that. Can't you send word to General

"I can't leave my post," replied the sentry, shortly. "You'll
have to come another time, when the General isn't busy. You can't
get in unless he countersigns that permit."

"Then it may be too late to witness the test," objected the
young inventor. "Isn't there some way I can get word to him?"

"I don't think so," replied the sentry. "And I'll have to ask
you to leave this vicinity. No strangers are allowed on the
proving grounds without a proper pass."



Tom looked at Ned in dismay. After all their work and planning,
to be thus thwarted, and by a mere technicality! As they stood
there, hardly knowing what to do, the sound of a tremendous
explosion came to their ears from behind the big pile of earth
and concrete that formed the bomb-proof around the testing

"What's that?" cried Ned, as the earth shook.

"Just trying some of the big guns," explained the sentry, who
was not a bad-natured chap. He had to do his duty. "You'd better
move on," he suggested. "If anything happens the government isn't
responsible, you know."

"I wish there was some way of getting in there," murmured Tom.

"You can see General Waller after the test, and he will
probably countersign the permit," explained the sentry.

"And we won't see the test of the gun I'm most interested in,"
objected Tom. "If I could only--"

He stopped as he noticed the sentry salute someone coming up
from the rear. Tom and Ned turned to behold a pleasant-faced
officer, who, at the sight of the young inventor, exclaimed:

"Well, well! If it isn't my old friend Tom Swift! So you got
here on my permit after all?"

"Yes, Captain Badger," replied the lad, and then with a rueful
face he added: "But it doesn't seem to be doing me much good. I
can't get into the proving grounds."

"You can't? Why not?" and he looked sharply at the sentry.

"Very sorry, sir," spoke the man on guard, "but General Wailer
has left orders, Captain Badger, that no outsiders can enter the
proving grounds when his new gun is being tested unless he
countersigns the permits. And he's engaged just now. I'm sorry,

"Oh, that's all right, Flynn," said Captain Badger. "It isn't
your fault, of course. I suppose there is no rule against my
going in there?" and he smiled.

"Certainly not, sir. Any officer may go in," and the guard
stepped to one side.

"Let me have that pass, Tom, and wait here for me," said the
Captain. "I'll see what I can do for you," and the young officer,
whose acquaintance Tom had made at the tests when the government
was purchasing some aeroplanes for the army, hurried off.

He came back presently, and by his face the lads knew he had
been successful.

"It's all right," he said with a smile. "General Waller
countersigned the pass without even looking at it. He's so
excited over the coming test of his gun that he hardly knows what
he is doing. Come on in, boys. I'll go with you."

"Then they haven't tested his gun yet?" Asked Tom, eagerly,
anxious to know whether he had missed anything.

"No, they're going to do so in about half an hour. You'll have
time to look around a bit. Come on," and showing the sentinel the
counter-signed pass, Captain Badger led the two youths into the
proving grounds.

Tom and Ned saw so much to interest them that they did not know
at which to look first. In some places officers and firing squads
were testing small-calibre machine guns, which shot off a round
with a noise like a string of firecrackers on the Chinese New
Year's. On other barbettes larger guns were being tested, the
noise being almost deafening.

"Stand on your tiptoes, and open your mouth when you see a big
cannon about to be fired," advised Captain Badger, as he walked
alongside the boys.

"What good does that do?" inquired Ned.

"It makes your contact with the earth as small as possible--
standing on your toes," the officer explained, "and so reduces
the tremor. Opening your mouth, in a measure, equalizes the
changed air pressure, caused by the vacuum made when the powder
explodes. In other words, you get the same sort of pressure down
inside your throat, and in the tubes leading to the ear--the same
pressure inside, as outside.

"Often the firing of big guns will burst the ear drums of the
officers near the cannon, and this may often be prevented by
opening the mouth. It's just like going through a deep tunnel, or
sometimes when an elevator descends quickly from a great height.
There is too much outside air pressure on the ear drums. By
opening your mouth and swallowing rapidly, the pressure is nearly
equaled, and you feel no discomfort."

The boys tried this when the next big gun was fired, and they
found it true. They noticed quite a crowd of officers and men
about a certain large barbette, and Captain Badger led them in
that direction.

"Is that General Wailer's gun?" asked Tom.

"That's where they are going to test it," was the answer.

Eagerly Tom and Ned pressed forward. No one of the many
officers and soldiers grouped about the new cannon seemed to
notice them. A tall man, who seemed very nervous and excited, was
hurrying here and there, giving orders rapidly.

"How is that range now?" he asked. "Let me take a look! Are you
sure the patrol vessels are far enough out? I think this
projectile is going farther than any of you gentlemen have

"I believe we have correctly estimated the distance," answered
someone, and the two entered into a discussion.

"That excited officer is General Wailer," explained Captain
Badger, in a low voice, to Tom and Ned.

"I guessed as much," replied the young inventor. Then he went
closer to get a better look at the big cannon.

I say big cannon, and yet it was not the largest the government
had. In fact, Tom estimated the calibre to be less than twelve
inches, but the cannon was very long--much longer in proportion
than guns of greater muzzle diameter. Then, too, the breech, or
rear part, was very thick and heavy.

"He must be going to use a tremendous lot of powder," said Tom.

"He is," answered Captain Badger. "Some of us think he is going
to use too much, but he says it is impossible to burst his gun.
He wants to make a long-range record shot, and maybe he will."

"That's a new kind of breech block," commented Tom, as he
watched the mechanism being operated.

"Yes, that's General Waller's patent, too. They're going to
fire soon."

I might explain, briefly, for the benefit of you boys who have
never seen a big, modern cannon, that it consists of a central
core of cast steel. This is rifled, just as a small rifle is
bored, with twisted grooves throughout its length. The grooves,
or rifling, impart a twisting motion to the projectiles, and keep
them in a straighter line.

After the central core is made and rifled, thick jackets of
steel are "shrunk" on over the rear part of the gun. Sometimes
several jackets are put on, one over the other, to make the gun

If you have ever seen a blacksmith put a tire on a wheel you
will understand what I mean. The tire is heated, and this expands
it, or makes it larger. It is put on hot, and when it cools it
shrinks, getting smaller, and gripping the rim of the wheel in a
strong embrace. That is what the jackets of steel do to the big

A big rifled cannon is loaded from the rear, or breech, just as
is a breech-loading shotgun or rifle. That is, the cannon is
opened at the back and the projectile is put in by means of a
derrick, for often the projectiles weigh a thousand pounds or
more. Next comes the powder--hundreds of pounds of it--and then
it is necessary to close the breech.

The breech block does this. That block is a ponderous piece of
steel, quite complicated, and it swings on a hinge fastened to
one side of the rear of the gun. Once it is swung back into
place, it is made fast by means of screw threads, wedges or in
whatever way the inventor of the gun deems best.

The breech block must be very strong, and held firmly in place,
or the terrific force of the powder would blow it out, wreck the
gun and kill those behind it. You see, the breech block really
stands a great part of the strain. The powder is between it and
the projectile, and there is a sort of warfare to see which will
give way--the projectile or the block. In most cases the
projectile gracefully bows, so to speak, and skips out of the
muzzle of the gun, though sometimes the big breech block will be

With eager eyes Tom and Ned watched the preparations for firing
the big gun. The charge of powder was hoisted out of the bomb-
proof chamber below the barbette, and then the great projectile
was brought up in slings. At the sight of that Tom realized that
the gun was no ordinary one, for the great piece of steel was
nearly three feet long, and must have weighed nearly a thousand
pounds. Truly, much powder would be needed to send that on its

"I'm afraid, General, that you are using too much of that
strong powder," Tom heard one officer say to the inventor of the
gun. "It may burst the breech."

"Nonsense, Colonel Washburn. I tell you it is impossible to
burst my gun--impossible, sir! I have allowed for every
emergency, and calculated every strain. I have a margin of safety
equal to fifty per cent."

"Very well, I hope it proves a success."

"Of course it will. It is impossible to burst my gun! Now, are
we ready for the test."

The gun was rather crude in form, not having received its final
polish, and it was mounted on a temporary carriage. But even with
that Tom could see that it was a wonderful weapon, though he
thought he would have put on another jacket toward the muzzle, to
further strengthen that portion.

"I'm going to make a gun bigger than that," said Tom to Ned. He
spoke rather louder than he intended, and, as it was at a moment
when there was a period of silence, the words carried to General
Waller, who was at that moment near Tom.

"What's that?" inquired the rather fiery-tempered officer, as
he looked sharply at our hero.

"I said I was going to make a larger gun than that," repeated
Tom, modestly.

"Sir! Do you know what you are saying? How did you come in
here, anyhow? I thought no civilians were to be admitted today!
Explain how you got here!"

Tom felt an angry flush mounting to his cheeks.

"I came in here on a pass countersigned by you," he replied.

"A pass countersigned by me? Let me it."

Tom passed it over.

"Humph, it doesn't seem to be forged," went on the pompous
officer. "Who are you, anyhow?"

"Tom Swift."


"General Waller, permit me to introduce Tom Swift to you,"
spoke Captain Badger, stepping forward, and trying not to smile.
"He is one of our foremost inventors. It is his type of monoplane
that the government has adopted for the coming maneuvers at
Panama, you may recall, and he was very helpful to Uncle Sam in
stopping that swindling on the border last year--Tom and his big
searchlight. Mr. Swift, General Waller," and Captain Badger bowed
as he completed the introduction.

"What's that. Tom Swift here? Let me meet him!" exclaimed an
elderly officer coming through the crowd. The others parted to
make way for him, as he seemed to be a person of some importance,
to judge by his uniform, and the medals he wore.

"Tom Swift here!" he went on. "I want to shake hands with you,
Tom! I haven't seen you since I negotiated with you for the
purchase of those submarines you invented, and which have done
such splendid service for the government. Tom, I'm glad to see
you here today."

The face of General Waller was a study in blank amazement.



There were murmurs throughout the throng about the big gun, as
the officer approached Tom Swift and shook hands with him.

"What have you in mind now, Tom, that you come to Sandy Hook?"
the much-medaled officer asked.

"Nothing much, Admiral," answered our hero.

"Oh, yes, you have!" returned Admiral Woodburn, head of the
naval forces of Uncle Sam. "You've got some idea in your head, or
you wouldn't come to see this test of my friend's gun. Well, if
you can invent anything as good for coast defense, or even
interior defense, as your submarines, it will be in keeping with
what you have done in the past. I congratulate you, General
Waller, on having Tom Swift here to give you the benefit of some
of his ideas."

"I--I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Swift before,"
said the gun inventor, stiffly. "I did not recognize his name
when I countersigned his pass."

It was plain that the greeting of Tom by Admiral Woodburn had
had a marked effect in changing sentiment toward our hero.
Captain Badger smiled as he noticed with what different eyes the
gun inventor now regarded the lad.

"Well, if Tom Swift gives you any points about your gun, you
want to adopt them," went on the Admiral. "I thought I knew
something about submarines, but Tom taught me some things, too;
didn't you, Tom?"

"Oh, it was just a simple matter, Admiral," said Tom, modestly.
"Just that little point about the intake valves and the ballast

"But they changed the whole matter. Yes, General, you take
Tom's advice--if he gives you any."

"I don't know that I will need any--as yet," replied General
Waller. "I am confident my gun will be a success as it is at
present constructed. Later, however, if I should decide to make
any changes, I will gladly avail myself of Mr. Swift's counsel,"
and he bowed stiffly to Tom. "We will now proceed with the test,"
he went on. "Kindly send a wireless to the patrol ships that we
are about to fire, and ask them to note carefully where the
projectile falls."

"Very good, sir," spoke the officer in immediate charge of the
matter, as he saluted. Soon from the aerials snapped the vicious
sparks that told of the wireless telegraph being worked.

I might explain that near the spot where the projectile was
expected to fall into the sea--about fifteen miles from Sandy
Hook--several war vessels were stationed to warn shipping to give
the place a wide berth. This was easy, since the big gun had been
aimed at a spot outside of the steamship lanes. Aiming the rifle
in a certain direction, and giving it a definite angle of
inclination, made it practically certain just where the shot
would fall. This is called "getting the range," and while, of
course, the exact limit of fire of the new gun was not known, it
had been computed as nearly as possible.

"Is everything ready now?" asked General Waller, while Tom was
conversing with his friends, Captain Badger and Admiral Woodburn,
Ned taking part in the conversation from time to time.

"All ready, sir," was the assurance. The inventor was plainly
nervous as the crucial moment of the test approached. He went
here and there upon the barbette, testing the various levers and
gear wheels of the gun.

The projectile and powder had been put in, the breech-block
screwed into place, the primer had been inserted, and all that
remained was to press the button that would make the electrical
connection, and explode the charge. This act of firing the gun
had been intrusted to one of the soldiers, for General Waller and
his brother officers were to retire to a bomb-proof, whence they
would watch the effect of the fire, and note the course of the

"It seems to me," remarked Ned, "that the soldier who is going
to fire the gun is in the most danger."

"He would be--if it exploded," spoke Tom, for his officer
friends had joined their colleagues, most of whom were now
walking toward the shelter. "But I think there is little danger.

"You see, the electric wires are long enough to enable him to
stand some distance from the gun. And, if he likes, he can crouch
behind that concrete wall of the next barbette. Still, there is
some chance of an accident, for, no matter how carefully you
calculate the strain of a bursting charge of powder, and how
strongly you construct the breech-block to stand the strain,
there is always the possibility of a flaw in the metal. So, Ned,
I think we'll just go to the bombÄproof ourselves, when we see
General Waller making for the same place."

"I suppose," remarked Ned, "that in actual warfare anyone who
fired one of the big guns would have to stand close to it--closer
than that soldier is now."

"Oh, yes--much," replied Tom, as he watched General Waller
giving the last instructions to the private who was to press the
button. "Only, of course, in war the guns will have been tested,
and this one has not. Here he comes; I guess we'd better be

General Waller, having assured himself that everything was as
right as possible, had given the last word to the private and was
now making his way toward the bomb-proof, within which were
gathered his fellow-officers and friends.

"You had better retire from the immediate vicinity of the gun,"
said its inventor to Tom and Ned, as he passed them. "For, while
I have absolute confidence in my cannon, and I know that it is
impossible to burst it, the concussion may be unpleasant at such
close range."

"Thank you," said Tom. "We are going to get in a safe place."

He could not refrain from contrasting the general's manner now
with what it had been at first.

As for Ned, he could not help wondering why, if the inventor
had such absolute faith in his weapon, he did not fire it
himself, even at the risk of a "concussion."

How it happened was never accurately known, as the soldier
declared positively--after he came out of the hospital--that he
had not pressed the button. The theory was that the wires had
become crossed, making a short circuit, which caused the gun to
go off prematurely.

But suddenly, while Tom, Ned and General Waller were still some
distance away from the bomb-proof, there was a terrific
explosion. It seemed as if the very foundations of the
fortifications would be shattered There was a roaring in the air
--a hot burst of flame, and instantly such a vacuum was created
that Tom and Ned found themselves gasping for breath.

Dazed, shaken in every bone, with their muscles sore, they
picked themselves up from the ground, along which they had been
blown with great force in the direction of the bomb-proof. Even
as Tom struggled to his feet, intending to run to safety in fear
of other explosions, he realized what had happened.

"What--what was it?" cried Ned, as he, too, arose.

"The gun burst!" yelled Tom.

He looked to the left and saw General Waller picking himself
up, his uniform torn, and blood streaming from a cut on his face.
At the same instant Tom was aware of the body of a man flying
through the air toward a distant grass plot, and the young
inventor recognized it as that of the soldier who had been
detailed to fire the great cannon.

Almost instantaneously as everything happened, Tom was aware of
noticing several things, as though they took place in sequence.
He looked toward where the gun had stood. It was in ruins. The
young inventor saw something, which he took to be the projectile,
skimming across the sea waves, and he had a fleeting glimpse of
the greater portion of the immense weapon itself sinking into the
depths of the ocean.

Then, coming down from a great height in the air, he saw a dark
object. It was another piece of the cannon that had been hurled

"Look out!" Tom yelled, instinctively, as he staggered toward
the bomb-proof, Ned following.

He saw a number of officers running out to assist General
Waller, who seemed too dazed to move. Many of them had torn
uniforms, and not a few were bleeding from their injuries. Then
the air seemed filled with a rain of small missilesÄstones, dirt,
gravel and pieces of metal.



"Are you much hurt, Ned?"

Tom Swift bent anxiously over the prostrate form of his chum. A
big piece of the burst gun had fallen close to Ned--so close, in
fact, that Tom, who saw it as he neared the entrance to the bomb-
proof, shuddered as he raced back. But there was no sign of
injury on his chum.

"Are you much hurt, Ned?"

The lad's eyes opened. He seemed dazed.

"No--no, I guess not," he answered, slowly. "I--I guess I'm as
much scared as hurt, Tom. It was the wind from that big piece
that knocked me down. It didn't actually hit me."

"No, I should say not," put in Captain Badger, who had run out
toward the two lads. "If it had hit you there wouldn't have been
much of you left to tell the tale," and he nodded toward the big
piece of metal Tom had seen coming down from the sky. That part
of the cannon forming a portion of the breech had buried itself
deep in the earth. It had landed close to Ned--so close that, as
he said, the wind of it, as well as the concussion, perhaps, had
thrown him with enough force to send the breath from him.

"Glad to hear that, old man!" exclaimed Tom, with a sigh of
relief. "If you'd been hurt I should have blamed myself."

"That would have been foolish. I took the same chance that you
did," answered Ned, as he arose, and limped off between the
captain and Tom.

A great silence seemed to have followed the terrific report.
And now the officers and soldiers began to recover from the
stupor into which the accident had thrown them. Sentries began
pouring into the proving grounds from other portions of the
barracks, and an ambulance call was sent in.

General Waller's comrades had hurried out to him, and were now
leading him away. He did not seem to be much hurt, though, like
many others, he had received numerous cuts and scratches from
bits of stone and gravel scattered by the explosion, as well as
from small bits of metal that were thrown in all directions.

"Are you hurt, General?" asked Admiral Woodburn, as he put his
arm about the shoulder of the inventor.

"No--that is to say, I don't think so. But what happened? Did
they fire some other gun in our direction by mistake?"

For a moment they all hesitated. Then the Admiral said, gently:

"No, General. It was your own gun--it burst."

"My gun! My gun burst?"

"That was it. Fortunately, no one was killed."

"My gun burst! How could that happen? I drew every plan for
that gun myself. I made every allowance. I tell you it was
impossible for it to burst!"

"But it did burst, General," went on the Admiral. "You can see
for yourself," and he turned around and waved his hand toward the
barbette where the gun had been mounted. All that remained of it
now was part of the temporary carriage, and a small under-portion
of the muzzle. The entire breech, with the great block, had been
blown into fragments, so powerful was the powder used. The
projectile one watcher reported, had gone about three hundred
yards over the top of the barbette and then dropped into the sea,
very little of the force of the explosive having been expended on
that. A large piece of the gun had also been lost in the water
off shore.

"My gun burst! My gun burst!" murmured General Waller, as if
unable to comprehend it. "My gun burst--it is impossible!"

"But it did," spoke Admiral Woodburn, softly. "Come, you had
better see the surgeon. You may be more seriously injured than
you think."

"Was anyone else hurt?" asked the inventor, listlessly. He
seemed to have lost all interest, for the time being.

"No one seriously, as far as we can learn," was the answer.

"What of the man who fired the gun?" inquired the General.

"He was blown high into the air," said Tom. "I saw him."

"But he is not injured beyond some bruises," put in one of the
ambulance surgeons. "We have taken him to the hospital. He fell
on a pile of bags that had held concrete, and they saved him. It
was a miraculous escape."

"I am glad of it," said General Waller. "It is bad enough to
feel that I made some mistake, causing the gun to burst; but I
would never cease to reproach myself if I felt that the man who
fired it was killed, or even hurt."

His friends led him away, and Tom and Ned went over to look at
what remained of the great gun. Truly, the powder, expending its
force in a direction not meant for it, had done terrific havoc.
Even part of the solid concrete bed of the barbette had been torn

An official inquiry was at once started, and, while it would
take some time to complete it (for the parts of the gun remaining
were to be subjected to an exhaustive test to determine the cause
of the weakness), it was found that there was some defect in the
wiring and battery that was used to fire the charge.

The soldier who was to press the button was sure he had not
done so, as he had been ordered to wait until General Waller gave
the signal from the bomb-proof. But the gun went off before its
inventor reached that place of safety. Just what had caused the
premature discharge could never be learned, as part of the firing
apparatus had been blown to atoms.

"Well, Tom, what do you think of it?" asked Ned, who had now
fully recovered from the shock. The two were about to leave the
proving grounds, having seen all that they cared to.

"I don't know just what to think," was the answer. "It sure was
a big explosion, and it goes to prove that, no matter how many
calculations you make, when you try a new powder in a new gun you
don't know what's going to happen, until after it has happened--
and then it's too late. It's a big problem, Ned."

"Do you think you can solve it? Are you still going on with
your plan to build the biggest cannon ever made?"

"I sure am, Ned, though I don't know that I'll make out any
better than General Waller did. It's too bad his was a failure;
but I think I see where he made some mistakes."

"Oh, you do; eh?" suddenly exclaimed a voice, and from a nearby
parapet, where he had gone to look at one of the pieces of his
gun, stepped General Waller. "So you think I made some mistakes,
Tom Swift? Where, pray?"

"In making the breech. The steel jackets were of uneven
thickness, making the strain unequal. Then, too, I do not think
the powder was sufficiently tested. It was probably of uneven
strength. That is only my opinion, sir."

"Well, you are rather young to give opinions to men who have
devoted almost all their lives to the study of high explosives."

"I realize that, sir; but you asked me for my opinion. I shall
hope to profit by your mistakes, too. That is one reason I wanted
to see this test."

"Then you are seriously determined to make a gun that you think
will rival mine."

"I am, General Wailer."

"For what purpose--to sell to some foreign government?"

"No, sir!" cried Tom, with flashing eyes. "If I am successful
in making a cannon that will fire the longest shots on record, I
shall offer it to Uncle Sam first of all. If he does not want it,
I shall not dispose of it to any foreign country!"

"Hum! Well, I don't believe you'll succeed. I intend to rebuild
my gun at once, though I may make some changes in it. I am sure I
shall succeed the next time. But as for you--a mere youth--to
hope to rival men who have made this problem a life-study--it is
preposterous, sir! Utterly preposterous!" and he uttered these
words much as he had declared that it was impossible for his gun
to burst, even after it was in fragments."

"Come on, Ned," said Tom, in a low voice. "We'll go back home."



"Bless my cartridge belt, Tom, you don't really mean to say
that stuff is powder!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"That's what I hope it will prove to be--and powerful powder at

"Why, it looks more like excelsior than anything else," went on
the odd man, gingerly taking up some yellowish shreds in his

"And it will burn as harmlessly as excelsior in the open air,"
went on Tom. "But I hope to prove, when it is confined in a
chamber, that it will be highly explosive. I'm going to make a
test of it soon."

"Give me good notice, so I can get over in the next State!"
exclaimed Ned Newton, with a laugh.

This was several days after our friends had returned from the
disastrous gun test at Sandy Hook. Tom had at once gotten to work
on the problem that confronted him--a problem of his own making--
to build a giant cannon that would make the longest shots on
record. And he had first turned his attention to the powder, or
explosive, to be used.

"For," he said, "there is no use having a big gun unless you
can fire it. And the gun I am planning will need something more
powerful in the powder line than any I've ever heard of."

"Stronger than the kind General Wailer used?" inquired Ned.

"Yes, but I'll make my cannon correspondingly stronger, too, so
there will be no danger."

"Bless my shoe buttons!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "You boys must
have had your nerve with you to stay around Sandy Hook after that
gun went up in the air."

"Oh, the danger was all over soon after it began," spoke Tom,
with a smile. "But now I'm going to test some of this powder. If
you want to run away, Mr. Damon, I'll have Koku take you up in
one of the airships, and you'll certainly be safe a mile or so in
the air," for Tom had instructed his giant servant how to run one
of the simpler biplanes.

"No--no, Tom, I'll stick!" exclaimed the eccentric man. "I'll
not promise not to hide behind the fence, or something like that,
though, Tom; but I'll stick."

"So will I," added Ned. "How are you going to make the test,

"I'll tell you in a minute. I want to do a little figuring

Tom had, before going to Sandy Hook, made some experiments in
powder manufacturing, but they had not been very satisfactory. He
had not been able to get power enough. On his return he had
undertaken rather a daring innovation. He had mingled two
varieties of powder, and the resulting combination would, he
hoped, prove just what he wanted.

The powder was in gelatin form, being made with nitro-glycerine
as a base. It looked, as Mr. Damon had said, like a bunch of
excelsior, only it was yellow instead of white, and it felt not
unlike pieces of dry macaroni.

"I have shredded the powder in this manner," Tom explained, "so
that it will explode more evenly and quickly. I want it to burn
as nearly instantaneously as possible, and I think it will in
this form."

"But how are you going to tell how powerful it is unless you
fire it in a cannon?" asked Ned. "And you haven't even started
your big gun yet."

"Oh, I'll show you," declared Tom. "There are several ways of
making a test, but I have one of my own. I am going to take a
solid block of steel, of known weight--say about a hundred
pounds. This I will put into a sort of square cylinder, or well,
closed at the bottom somewhat like the breech of a gun. The block
of steel fits so closely in the square well that no air or powder
gas can pass it.

"In the bottom of this well, which may be a foot square, I will
put a small charge of this new powder. On top of that will come
the steel block. Then by means of electric wires I can fire the

"Attached to the steel well, or chamber, will be a gauge, a
pressure recorder and other apparatus. When the powder, of which
I will use only a pinch, carefully weighing it, goes off, it will
raise the hundred-pound weight a certain distance. This will be
noted on the scale. There will also be shown the amount of
pressure released in the gas given off by the powder. In that way
I can make some calculations."

"How?" asked Ned, who was much interested.

"Well, for instance, if one ounce of powder raises the weight
three feet, and gives a muzzle pressure of, say, five hundred
pounds, I can easily compute what a thousand pounds of powder,
acting on a projectile weighing two tons and a half, would do,
and how far it would shoot it."

"Bless my differential gear!" cried Mr. Damon. "A projectile
weighing two and a half, tons! Tom, it's impossible!"

"That's what General Waller said about his gun; but it burst,
just the same," declared Ned. "Poor man, I felt sorry for him. He
seemed rather put out at you, Tom."

"I guess he was--a bit--though I didn't mean anything
disrespectful in what I said. But now we'll have this test. Koku,
take the rest of this powder back. I'll only keep a small

The giant, who, being more active than Eradicate, had rather
supplanted the aged colored man, did as he was bid, and soon Tom,
with Ned and Mr. Damon to help him, was preparing for the test.

They went some distance away from any of the buildings, for,
though Tom was only going to use a small quantity of the
explosive, he did not just know what the result would be, and he
wanted to take no chances.

"I know from personal experience what the two kinds of powder
from which I made this sample will do," he said; "but it is like
taking two known quantities and getting a third unknown one from
them. There is an unequal force between the two samples that may
make an entirely new compound."

The steel chamber that was to receive the hundred-pound steel
block had been prepared in advance, as had the various gauges and
registering apparatus.

"Well, I guess we'll start things moving now," went on Tom, as
he looked over the things he had brought from his shops to the
deserted meadow. The fact of the test had been kept a secret, so
there were no spectators. "Ned, give me a hand with this block"
Tom went on. "It's a little too heavy to lift alone." He was
straining and tugging at the heavy piece of steel.

"Me do!" exclaimed Koku the giant, gently pushing Tom to one
side. Then the big man, with one hand, raised the hundred-pound
weight as easily as if it were a loaf of bread, and deposited it
where Tom wanted it.

"Thanks!" exclaimed our hero, with a laugh. "I didn't make any
mistake when I brought you home with me, Koku."

"Huh! I could hab lifted dat weight when I was a young feller!"
exclaimed Eradicate, who was, it is needless to say, jealous of
the giant.

The powder had been put in the firing chamber. The steel socket
had been firmly fixed in the earth, so that if the force of the
explosion was in a lateral direction, instead of straight up, no
damage would result. The weight, even if it shot from the muzzle
of the improvised "cannon," would only go harmlessly up in the
air, and then drop back. The firing wires were so long that Tom
and his friends could stand some distance away.

"Are you all ready?" cried Tom, as he looked to see that the
wiring was clear.

"As ready as we ever shall be," replied Mr. Damon, who, with
Ned and the others, had taken refuge behind a low hill.

"Oh, this isn't going to be much of an explosion," laughed Tom.
"It won't be any worse than a Fourth of July cannon. Here she

He pressed the electric button, there was a flash, a dull,
muffled report and, for a moment, something black showed at the
top of the steel chamber. Then it dropped back inside again.

"Pshaw!" cried Tom, in disappointed tones. "It didn't even blow
the weight out of the tube. That powder's no good! It's a

Followed by the others, the young inventor started toward the
small square "cannon." Tom wanted to read the records made by the

Suddenly Koku cried:

"There him be, master! There him be!" and he pointed toward a
distant path that traversed the meadow.

"He? Whom do you mean?" asked Tom, startled the giant's excited

"That man what come and look at Master's new powder," was the
unexpected answer. "Him say he want to surprise you, and he come
today, but no speak. He run away. Look--him go!" and he pointed
toward a figure of distinctly military bearing hurrying along the
road that led to Shopton.



"Bless my buttons!" cried Mr. Damon.

"Let's chase after him!" yelled Ned.

"Koku kin run de fastest oh any oh us," put in Eradicate. "Let
him go."

"Hold on--wait a minute!" exclaimed Tom. "We want to know who
that man is--and why we're going to chase after him. Koku, I
guess it's up to you. Something has been going on here that I
don't know anything about. Explain!"

"Well, it's no use to chase after him now," said Ned. "There he
goes on his motor-cycle."

As he spoke the man, who, even from a rear view, presented all
the characteristics of an army man, so straight was his carriage,
leaped upon a motor-cycle that he pulled from the roadside
bushes, and soon disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"No, he's gone," spoke Tom, half-regretfully. "But who was he,
Koku? You seemed to know him. What was he doing out here,
watching my test?"

"Me tell," said the giant, simply. "Little while after Master
come back from where him say big gun all go smash, man come to
shop when Master out one day. Him very nice man, and him say him
know you, and want to help you make big cannon. I say, 'Master no
be at home.' Man say him want to give master a little present of
powder for use in new cannon. Master be much pleased, man say.
Make powder better. I take, and I want Master to be pleased. I
put stuff what man gave me in new powder. Man go away--he laugh--
he say he be here today see what happen --I tell him you go to
make test today. Man say Master be much surprised. That all I

Silence followed Koku's statement. To Ned and Mr. Damon it was
not exactly clear, but Tom better understood his giant servant's
queer talk.

"Is that what you mean, Koku?" asked the young inventor, after
a pause. "Did some stranger come here one day when I was out,
after I had made my new powder, and did he give you some 'dope'
to put in it?"

"What you mean by 'dope'?"

"I mean any sort of stuff."

"Yes, man give me something like sugar, and I sprinkle it on
new powder for to surprise Master."

"Well, you've done it, all right," said Tom, grimly. "Have you
any of the stuff left?"

"I put all in iron box where Master keep new powder."

"Well, then some of it must be there yet. Probably it sifted
through the excelsior-like grains of my new explosive, and we'll
find it on the bottom of the powder-case. But enough stuck to the
strands to spoil my test. I'll just take a reading of the gauges,
and then we'll make an investigation."

Tom, with Ned to help him, made notes of how far the weight had
risen in the tube, and took data of other points in the

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Tom. "There wasn't much more force to my new
powder, doped as it apparently has been, than to the stuff I can
buy in the open market. But I'm glad I know what the trouble is,
for I can remedy it. Come on back to the shop. Koku, don't you
ever do anything like this again," and Tom spoke severely.

"No, Master," answered the giant, humbly.

"Did you ever see this man before, Koku?"

"No, Master."

"What kind of a fellow was he?" asked Ned.

"Oh, him got whiskers on him face, and stand very straight,
like stick bending backwards. Him look like a soldier, and him
blink one eye more than the other."

Tom and Ned started and looked at one another.

"That description fits General Waller," said Ned, in a low
voice to his chum.

"Yes, in a way; but it would be out of the question for the
General to do such a thing. Besides, the man who ran away, and
escaped on his motor-cycle, was larger than General Waller."

"It was hard to tell just what size he was at the distance,"
spoke Ned. "It doesn't seem as though he would try to spoil your
experiments. though."

"Maybe he hoped to spoil my cannon," remarked Tom, with a laugh
that had no mirth in it. "My cannon that isn't cast yet. He
probably misunderstood Koku's story of the test, and had no idea
it was only a miniature, experimental, gun.

"This will have to be looked into. I can't have strangers
prowling about here, now that I am going to get to work on a new
invention. Koku, I expect you, after this, not to let strangers
approach unless I give the word. Eradicate, the same thing
applies to you. You didn't see anything of this mysterious man;
did you?"

"No, Massa 'Tom. De only s'picious man I see was mab own cousin
sneakin' around mah chicken coop de odder night. I tooks mah ole
shot gun, an' sa'ntered out dat way. Den in a little while dere
wasn't no s'picious man any mo'."

"You didn't shoot him; did you, Rad?" cried Tom, quickly.

"No, Massa Tom--dat is, I didn't shoot on puppose laik. De gun
jest natchelly went off by itself accidental-laik, an' it
peppered him good an' proper."

"Why, Rad!" cried Ned. "You didn't tell us about this."

"Well, I were 'shamed ob mah cousin, so I was. Anyhow, I only
had salt an' pepper in de gun--'stid ob shot. I 'spect mah cousin
am pretty well seasoned now. But dat's de only s'picious folks I
see, 'ceptin' maybe a peddler what wanted t' gib me a dish pan
fo' a pair ob ole shoes; only I didn't hab any."

"There are altogether too many strangers coming about here,"
went on Tom. "It must be stopped, if I have to string charged
electric wires about the shops as I once did."

They hurried back to the shop where the new powder was kept,
and Tom at once investigated it. Taking the steel box from where
it was stored he carefully removed the several handfuls of
excelsior-like explosive. On the bottom of the box, and with some
of it clinging to some of the powder threads, was a sort of white
powder. It had a peculiar odor.

"Ha!" cried Tom, as soon as he saw it. "I know what that is.
It's a new form of gun-cotton, very powerful. Whoever gave it to
Koku to put on my powder hoped to blow to atoms any cannon in
which it might be used. There's enough here to do a lot of

"How is it that it didn't blow your test cylinder to bits?"
asked Ned.

"For the reason that the stuff I use in my powder and this new
gun-cotton neutralized one another," the young inventor
explained. "One weakened the other, instead of making a stronger
combination. A chemical change took place, and lucky for us it
did. It was just like a man taking an over-dose of poison--it
defeated itself. That's why my experiment was a failure. Now to
put this stuff where it can do no harm. Is this what that man
gave you, Koku?"

"That's it, Master."

There came a tap on the door of the private room, and
instinctively everyone started. Then came the voice of Eradicate,

"Dere's a army gen'men out here to see you. Massa Tom; but I
ain't gwine t' let him in lessen as how you says so."

"An army gentleman!" repeated Tom.

"Yais, sah! He say he General Waller, an' he come on a motor-

"General Waller!" exclaimed Tom. "What can he want out here?"

"And on a motor-cycle, too!" added Ned. "Tom, what's going on,

The young inventor shook his head.

"I don't know," he replied; "but I suppose I had better see
him. Here. Koku, put this powder away, and then go outside. Mr.
Damon, you'll stay; won't you?"

"If you need me, Tom. Bless my finger nails! But there seems to
be something wrong here."

"Show him in, Rad!" called Tom.

"Massa Gen'l Herodotus Waller!" exclaimed the colored man in
pompous tones, as he opened the door for the officer, clad in
khaki, whom Tom had last seen at Sandy Hook.

"Ah, how do you do, Mr. Swift!" exclaimed General Waller,
extending his hand. "I got your letter inviting me to a test of
your new explosive. I hope I am not too late."

Tom stared at him in amazement.



"You--you got my letter!" stammered Tom, holding out his hand
for a missive which the General extended. "I--I don't exactly
understand. My letter?"

"Yes, certainly," went on the officer. "It was very kind of you
to remember me after--well, to be perfectly frank with you, I did
resent, a little, your remarks about my unfortunate gun. But I
see you are of a forgiving spirit."

"But I didn't write you any letter!" exclaimed Tom, feeling
more and more puzzled.

"You did not? What is this?" and the General unfolded a paper.
Tom glanced over it. Plainly it was a request for the General to
be present at the test on that day, and it was signed with Tom
Swift's name.

But as soon as the young inventor saw it, he knew that it was a

"I never sent that letter!" he exclaimed. "Look, it is not at
all like my handwriting," and he took up some papers from a near-
by table and quickly compared some of his writing with that in
the letter. The difference was obvious.

"Then who did send it?" asked General Waller. "If someone has
been playing a joke on me it will not be well for him!" and he
drew himself up pompously.

"If a joke has been played--and it certainly seems so," spoke
Tom, "I had no hand in it. And did you come all the way from
Sandy Hook because of this letter?"

"No, I am visiting friends in Waterford," said the officer,
naming the town where Mr. Damon lived. "My cousin is Mr. Pierce

"Bless my doorbell!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, "I know him! He lives
just around the corner from me. Bless my very thumb prints!"

General Waller stared at Mr. Damon in some amazement, and

"Owing to the unfortunate accident to my gun, and to some
slight injuries I sustained, I found my health somewhat impaired.
I obtained a furlough, and came to visit my cousin. The doctor
recommended open air exercise, and so I brought with me my
motor-cycle, as I am fond of that means of locomotion."

"I used to be," murmured Mr. Damon; "but I gave it up."

"After his machine climbed a tree," Tom explained, with a
smile, remembering how he had originally met Mr. Damon, and
bought the damaged machine from him, as told in the first volume
of this series.

"So, when I got your letter," continued the General, "I
naturally jumped on my machine and came over. Now I find that it
is all a hoax."

"I am very sorry, I assure you," said Tom. "We did have a sort
of test today; but it was a failure, owing to the fact that
someone tampered with my powder. From what you tell me, I am
inclined to the belief that the same person may have sent you
that letter. Let me look at it again," he requested.

Carefully he scanned it.

"I should say that was written in a sort of German hand; would
you not also?" he asked of Mr. Damon.

"I would, Tom."

"A German!" exclaimed General Waller.

At the mention of the word "German" Koku, the giant, who had
entered the room, to be stared at in amazement by the officer,

"That he, Master! That he!"

"What do you mean?" inquired Tom.

"German man give me stuff for to put in your powder. I 'member
now, he talk like Hans who make our garden here; and he say 'yah'
just the same like. That man German sure."

"What does this mean?" inquired the officer.

Quickly Tom told of the visit of an unknown man who had
prevailed on the simple-minded giant to "dope" Tom's new powder
under the impression that he was doing his master a favor. Then
the flight of the spy on a motor-cycle, just as the experiment
failed, was related.

"We have a German gardener," went on Tom, "and Koku now recalls
that our mysterious visitor had the same sort of speech. This
ought to give us a clue."

"Let me see," murmured General Waller. "In the first place your
test fails--you learn, then, that your powder has been tampered
with--you see a man riding away in haste after having, in all
likelihood, spied on your work--your giant servant recalls the
visit of a mysterious man, and, when the word 'German' is
pronounced in his hearing he recalls that his visitor was of that
nationality. So far so good.

"I come to this vicinity for my health. That fact, as are all
such regarding officers, was doubtless published in the Army and
Navy Journal, so it might easily become known to almost anyone. I
receive a letter which I think is from Tom Swift, asking me to
attend the test. As the distance is short I go, only to find that
the letter has been forged, presumably by a German.

"Question: Can the same German be the agent in both cases?"

"Bless my arithmetic! how concisely you put it!" exclaimed Mr.

"It is part of my training, I suppose," remarked the officer.
"But it strikes me that if we find your German spy, Tom, we will
find the man who played the joke on me. And if I do find him--
well, I think I shall know how to deal with him," and General
Waller assumed his characteristic haughty attitude.

"I believe you are right, General," spoke Tom. "Though why any
German would want to prevent my experiments, or even damage my
property, and possibly injure my friends, I cannot understand."

"Nor can I," spoke the officer.

"I am sorry you have had your trouble for nothing," went on
Tom. "And, if you are in this vicinity when I conduct my next
test, I shall be glad to have you come. I will send word by Mr.
Damon, and then there will be no chance of a mistake."

"Thank you, Tom, I shall be glad to come I do not know how long
I shall remain in this vicinity. If I knew where to look for the
German I would make a careful search. As it is, I shall turn this
letter over to the United States Secret Service, and see what its
agents can do. And, Tom, if you are annoyed again, let me know.
You are a sort of rival, so to speak, but, after all, we are both
working to serve Uncle Sam. I'll do my best to protect you."

"Thank you, sir," replied Tom. "On my part, I shall keep a good
lookout. It will be a bold spy who gets near my shop after this.
I'm going to put up my highly-charged protecting electric wires
again. We were just talking about them when you came in. Would
you like to look about here, General?"

"I would, indeed, Tom. Have you made your big gun yet?"

"No, but I am working on the plans. I want first to decide on
the kind of explosive I am to use, so I can make my gun strong
enough to stand it."

"A wise idea. I think there is where I made my mistake. I did
not figure carefully enough on the strength of material. The
internal pressure of the powder I used, as well as the muzzle
velocity of my projectile, were both greater than they should
have been. Take a lesson from my failure. But I am going to start
on another gun soon, and--Tom Swift--I am going to try to beat

"All right, General," answered Tom, genially. "May the best gun

"Bless my powder box!" cried Mr. Damon. "That's the way to

General Waller was much interested in going about Tom's shop,
and expressed his surprise at the many inventions he saw. While
ordnance matters, big guns and high explosives were his hobby,
nevertheless the airships were a source of wonder to him.

"How do you do it, Tom?" he asked.

"Oh, by keeping at it," was the modest answer. "Then my good
friends here--Ned and Mr. Damon--help me."

"Bless my check book!" exclaimed the odd gentleman. "It is very
little help I give, Tom."

General Waller soon took his departure, promising to call
again, to see Tom's test if one were held. He also repeated his
determination to set the Secret Service men at work to discover
the mysterious German.

"I can't imagine who would want to injure you or me, Tom
Swift," he said.

"Do you think they wanted to injure you, General?" asked Mr.

"It would seem so," remarked Ned. "That man doped Tom's powder,
hoping to make it so powerful that it would blow up everything.
Then he sends word to the General to be present. If there had
been a blow-up he would have gone with it."

"Bless my gaiters, yes!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"Well, we'll see if we can ferret him out!" spoke the officer
as he took his leave.

Tom, Ned and the others talked the matter over at some length.

"I wonder if we could trace that man who rode away on the
motor-cycle?" said Ned.

"We'll try," decided Tom, energetically, and in the electric
runabout, that had once performed such a service to his father's
bank, the young inventor and his chum were soon traversing the
road taken by the spy. They got some traces of him--that is,
several persons had seen him pass--but that was all. So they had
to record one failure at least.

"I wonder if the General himself could have sent that letter?"
mused Ned, as they returned home.

"What! To himself?" cried Tom, in amazement.

"He might have," went on Ned, coolly. "You see, Tom, he admits
that he was jealous of you. Now what is there to prevent him from
hiring someone to dope your powder, and then, to divert suspicion
from himself, faking up a letter and inviting himself to the

"But if he did that--which I don't believe--why would he come
when there was danger, in case his trick worked, of the whole
place being blown to kingdom come

"Ah, but you notice he didn't arrive until after danger of an
explosion had passed," commented Ned.

"Oh, pshaw!" cried Tom. "I don't take any stock in that

"Well, maybe not," replied Ned. "But it's worth thinking about.
I believe if General Waller could prevent you from inventing your
big gun, he would."

The days that followed were busy ones for Tom. He worked on the
powder problem from morning to night, scoring many failures and
only a few successes. But he did not give up, and in the
meanwhile drew tentative plans for the big gun.

One evening, after a hard day's work, he went to the library
where his father was reading.

"Tom," said Mr. Swift, "do you remember that old fortune
hunter, Alec Peterson, who wanted me to go into that opal mine

"Yes, Dad. What about him? Has he found it?"

"No, he writes to say he reached the island safely, and has
been working some time. He hasn't had any success yet in locating
the mine; but he hopes to find it in a week or so."

"That's just like him," murmured Tom. "Well, Dad, if you lose
the ten thousand dollars I guess I'll have to make it up to you,
for it was on my account that you made the investment."

"Well, you're worth it, Tom," replied his father, with a smile.



"Look out with that box, Koku! Handle it as though it contained
a dozen eggs of the extinct great auk, worth about a thousand
dollars apiece.

"Eradicate! Don't you dare stumble while you're carrying that
tube. If you do, you'll never do it again!"

"By golly, Massa Tom! I--I's gwine t' walk on mah tiptoes all
de way!"

Thus Eradicate answered the young inventor, while the giant,
Koku, who was carrying a heavy case, nodded his head to show that
he understood the danger of his task.

"So you think you've got the right stuff this time, Tom?" asked
Ned Newton.

"I'm allowing myself to hope so, Ned."

"Bless my woodpile!" cried Mr. Damon. "I--I really think I'm
getting nervous."

It was one afternoon, about two weeks after Tom had made his
first test of the new powder. Now, after much hard work, and
following many other tests, some of which were more or less
successful, he had reached the point where he believed he was on
the threshold of success. He had succeeded in making a new
explosive that, in the preliminary tests, in which only a small
quantity was used, gave promise of being more powerful than any
Tom had ever experimented with--his own or the product of some
other inventor.

And his experiments had not always been harmless. Once he came
within a narrow margin of blowing up the shop and himself with
it, and on another occasion some of the slow-burning powder,
failing to explode, had set ablaze a shack in which he was

Only for the prompt action of Koku, Tom might have been
seriously injured. As it was he lost some valuable patterns and

But he had gone on his way, surmounting failure after failure,
until now he was ready for the supreme test. This was to be the
explosion of a large quantity of the powder in a specially
prepared steel tube of great thickness. It was like a miniature
cannon, but, unlike the first small one, where the test had
failed, this one would carry a special projectile, that would be
aimed at an armor plate set up on a big hill.

Tom's hope was that this big blast would show such pressure in
foot-tons, and give such muzzle velocity to the projectile, and
at the same time such penetrating power, that he would be
justified in taking it as the basis of his explosive, and using
it in the big gun he intended to make.

The preliminaries had been completed. The special steel tube
had been constructed, and mounted on a heavy carriage in a
distant part of the Swift grounds. A section of armor plate, a
foot and a half in thickness, had been set up at the proper
distance. A new projectile, with a hard, penetrating point, had
been made--a sort of miniature of the one Tom hoped to use in his
giant cannon.

Now the young inventor and his friends were on their way to the
scene of the test, taking the powder and other necessaries,
including the primers, with them. Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon had some
of the gauges to register the energy expended by the improvised
cannon. There were charts to be filled in, and other details to
be looked after.

"So General Waller won't be here?" remarked Ned, as they walked
along, Tom keeping a watchful eye on Koku.

"No," was the reply. "He has gone back to Sandy Hook. He wrote
that his health was better, and that he wanted to resume work on
a new type of gun."

"I guess he's afraid you'll beat him out, Tom," laughed Ned.
"You take my advice, and look out for General Waller."

"Nonsense! I say, Rad! Look out with those primers!"

"I'se lookin' out, Massa Tom. Golly, I don't laik dis yeah job
at all! I--I guess I'd better be gittin' at dat whitewashin',
Massa Tom. Dat back fence suah needs a coat mighty bad."

"Never you mind about the whitewashing, Rad. You just stick
around here for a while. I may need you to sit on the cannon to
hold it down."

"Sit on a cannon, Massa Tom! Say, looky heah now! You jest take
dese primary things from dish yeah coon. I--I'se got t' go!"

"Why, what's the matter, Rad? Surely you're not afraid; are
you?" and Tom winked at Ned.

"No, Massa Tom, I'se not prezactly 'skeered, but I done jest
'membered dat I didn't gib mah mule Boomerang any oats t'day, an'
he's suahly gwine t' be desprit mad at me fo' forgettin' dat. I--
I'd better go!"

"Nonsense, Rad! I was only fooling. You can go as soon as we
get to my private proving grounds, if you like. But you'll have
to carry those primers, for all the rest of us have our hands
full. Only be careful of 'em!"

"I--I will, Massa Tom."

They kept on, and it was noticed that Mr. Damon gave nervous
glances from time to time in the direction of Koku, who was
carrying the box of powder. The giant himself, however, did not
seem to know the meaning of fear. He carried the box, which
contained enough explosive to blow them all into fragments, with
as much composure as though it contained loaves of bread.

"Now you can go, Rad," announced Tom, when they reached the
lonely field where, pointing toward a big hill, was the little

"Good, Massa Tom!" cried the colored man, and from the way in
which he hurried off no one would ever suspect him of having
rheumatic joints.

"Say, that stuff looks just like Swiss cheese," remarked Ned,
as Tom opened the box of explosive. It would be incorrect to call
it powder, for it had no more the appearance of gunpowder, or any
other "powder," than, as Ned said, swiss cheese.

And, indeed, the powerful stuff bore a decided resemblance to
that peculiar product of the dairy. It was in thin sheets, with
holes pierced through it here and there, irregularly.

"The idea is," Tom explained, "to make a quick-burning
explosive. I want the concussion to be scattered through it all
at once. It is set off by concussion, you see," he went on. "A
sort of cartridge is buried in the middle of it, after it has
been inserted in the cannon breech. The cartridge is exploded by
a primer, which responds to an electric current. The thin plates,
with holes corresponding to the centre hole in a big grain of the
hexagonal powder, will, I hope, cause the stuff to burn quickly,
and give a tremendous pressure. Now we'll put some in the steel
tube, and see what happens."

Even Tom was a little nervous as he prepared for this latest
test. But he was not nervous enough to drop any of those queer,
cheese-like slabs. For, though he knew that a considerable
percussion was needed to set them off, it would not do to take
chances. High explosives do not always act alike, even under the
same given conditions. What might with perfect safety be done at
one time, could not be repeated at another. Tom knew this, and
was very careful.

The powder, as I shall occasionally call it for the sake of
convenience, though it was not such in the strict sense of the
word--the powder was put in the small cannon, together with the
primer. Then the wires were attached to it, and extended off for
some distance.

"But we won't attach the battery until the last moment," Tom
said. "I don't want a premature explosion."

The projectile was also put in, and Tom once more looked to see
that the armor plate was in place. Then he adjusted the various
gauges to get readings of the power and energy created by his new

"Well, I guess we're all ready," he announced to his friends.
"I'll hook on the battery now, and we'll get off behind that
other hill. I had Koku make a sort of cave there--a miniature
bomb-proof, that will shelter us."

"Do you think the blast will be powerful enough to make it
necessary?" asked Mr. Damon.

"It will, if this larger quantity of explosive acts anything
like the small samples I set off," replied the young inventor.

The electric wires were carried behind the protecting hill,
whither they all retired.

"Here she goes!" exclaimed Tom, after a pause.

His thumb pressed the electric button, and instantly the ground
shook with the tremor of a mighty blast, while a deafening sound
reared about them. The earth trembled, and there was a big sheet
of flame, seen even in the powerful sunlight.

"Something happened, anyhow!" yelled Tom above the
reverberating echoes.



"Come on!" yelled Ned. "We'll see how this experiment came
out!" and he started to run from beneath the shelter of the hill.

"Hold on!" shouted Tom, laying a restraining hand on his chum's

"Why, what's the matter?" asked Ned in surprise.

"Some of that powder may not have exploded," went on the young
inventor. "From the sound made I should say the gun burst, and,
if it did, that gelatin is bound to be scattered about. There may
be a mass of it burning loose somewhere, and it may go off. It
ought not to, if my theory about it being harmless in the open is
correct, but the trouble is that it's only a theory. Wait a few

Anxiously they lingered, the echoes of the blast still in their
ears, and a peculiar smell in their nostrils.

"But there's no smoke," said Mr. Damon. "Bless my spyglass! I
always thought there was smoke at an explosion."

"This is a sort of smokeless powder," explained Tom. "It throws
off a slight vapor when it is ignited, but not much. I guess it's
safe to go out now. Come on!"

He dropped the pushbutton connected with the igniting battery,
and, followed by the others, raced to the scene of the
experiment. A curious sight met their eyes.

A great hole had been torn in the hillside, and another where
the improvised gun had stood. The gun itself seemed to have

"Why--why--where is it?" asked Ned.

"Burst to pieces I guess," replied Tom. "I was afraid that
charge was a bit too heavy."

"No, here it is!" shouted Mr. Damon, circling off to one side.
"It's been torn from the carriage, and partly buried in the
ground," and he indicated a third excavation in the earth.

It was as he had said. The terrific blast had sheared the gun
from its temporary carriage, thrown it into the air, and it had
come down to bury itself in the soft ground. The carriage had
torn loose from the concrete base, and was tossed off in another

"Is the gun shattered?" asked Tom, anxious to know how the
weapon had fared. It was, in a sense, a sort of small model of
the giant cannon he intended to have cast.

"The breech is cracked a little," answered Mr. Damon, who was
examining it; "but otherwise it doesn't seem to be much damaged."

"Good cried Tom. "Another steel jacket will remedy that defect.
I guess I'm on the right road at last. But now to see what became
of that armor plate."

"Dinner plate not here," spoke Koku, who could not understand
how there could be two kind of plates in the world. "Dinner plate
gone, but big hole here, and he indicated one in the side of the

"I expect that is where the armor plate is," said Tom, trying
not to laugh at the mistake of his giant servant. "Take a look in
there, Koku, and, if you can get hold of it, pull it out for us.
I'm afraid the piece of nickel-steel armor proved too much for my
projectile. But we'll have a look."

Koku disappeared into the miniature cave that had been torn in
the side of the bill. It was barely large enough to allow him to
go in. But Tom knew none other of them could hope to loosen the
piece of steel, imbedded as it must be in the solid earth.

Presently they heard Koku grunting and groaning. He seemed to
be having quite a struggle.

"Can you get it, Koku?" asked Torn. "Or shall I send for picks
and shovels."

"Me get, Master," was the muffled answer.

Then came a shout, as though in anger Koku had dared the buried
plate to defy him. There was a shower of earth at the mouth of
the cave, and the giant staggered out with the heavy piece of
armor plate. At the sight of it Tom uttered a cry.

"Look!" he shouted. "My projectile went part way through and
then carried the plate with it into the side of the hill. Talk
about a powerful explosive! I've struck it, all right!"

It was as he had said. The projectile, driven with almost
irresistible force, had bitten its way through the armor plate,
but a projection at the base of the shell had prevented it from
completely passing through. Then, with the energy almost
unabated, the projectile had torn the plate loose and hurled it,
together with its own body, into the solid earth of the hillside.
There, as Koku held them up, they could all see the shell
imbedded in the plate, the point sticking out on the other side,
as a boy might spear an apple with a sharp stick.

"Bless my spectacle case!" cried Mr. Damon. "This is the
greatest ever!"

"It sure is," agreed Ned. "Tom, my boy, I guess you can now
make the longest shots on record."

"I can as soon as I get my giant cannon, perhaps," admitted the
young inventor. "I think I have solved the problem of the
explosive. Now to work on the cannon."

An examination of the gauges, which, being attached to the
cannon and plate by electric wires, were not damaged when the
blast came, showed that Tom's wildest hopes had been confirmed.
He had the most powerful explosive ever made--or at least as far
as he had any knowledge, and he had had samples of all the best

Concerning Tom's powder, or explosive, I will only say that he
kept the formula of it secret from all save his father. All that
he would admit, when the government experts asked him about it,
later, was that the base was not nitro-glycerine, but that this
entered into it. He agreed, however, in case his gun was accepted
by the government, to disclose the secret to the ordnance

But Tom's work was only half done. It was one thing to have a
powerful explosive, but there must be some means of utilizing it
safely--some cannon in which it could be fired to send a
projectile farther than any cannon had ever sent one. And to do
this much work was necessary.

Tom figured and planned, far into the night, for many weeks
after that. He had to begin all over again, working from the
basis of the power of his new explosive. And he had many new
problems to figure out.

But finally he had constructed--on paper--a gun that was to his
liking. The most exhaustive figuring proved that it had a margin
of safety that would obviate all danger of its bursting, even
with an accidental over-charge.

"And the next thing is to get the gun cast," said Tom to Ned
one day.

"Are you going to do it in your shops?" his chum asked.

"No; it would be out of the question for me. I haven't the
facilities. I'm going to give the contract to the Universal Steel
Company. We'll pay them a visit in a day or two."

But even the great facilities of the steel corporation proved
almost inadequate for Tom's giant cannon. When he showed the
drawings, on which he had already secured a patent, the manager

"We can't cast that gun here!" he said.

"Oh, yes, you can!" declared Tom, who had inspected the plant.
"I'll show you how."

"Why, we haven't a mould big enough for the central core," was
another objection.

"Then we'll make one," declared Tom "We'll dig a pit in the
earth, and after it is properly lined we can make the cast

"I never thought of that!" exclaimed the manager. "Perhaps it
can be done."

"Of course it can!" cried Tom. "Do you think you can shrink on
the jackets, and rifle the central tube?"

"Oh, yes, we can do that. The initial cast was what stumped me.
But we'll go ahead now."

"And you can wind the breech with wire, and braze it on; can't
you?" persisted Tom.

"Yes, I think so. Are you going to have a wire-wound gun?"

"That, in combination with a steel-jacketed one. I'm going to
take no chances with 'Swiftite'!" laughed Tom, for so he had
named his new explosive, in honor of his father, who had helped
him with the formula.

"It must be mighty powerful," exclaimed the manager.

"It is," said Tom, simply.

I am not going to tire my readers with the details leading up
to the casting of Tom's big cannon. Sufficient to say that the
general plan, in brief, was this: A hole would be dug in the
earth, in the center of the largest casting shop--a hole as deep
as the gun was to be long. This was about one hundred feet,
though the gun, when finished, would be somewhat shorter than
this. An allowance was to be made for cutting.

In the center of this hole would be a small "core" made of
asbestos and concrete mixed. Around this would be poured the
molten steel from great caldrons. It would flow into the hole.
The sides of earth--lined with fire-clay--would hold it in, and
the middle core would make a hole throughout the length of the
central part of the gun. Afterward this hole would be bored and
rifled to the proper calibre.

After this central part was done, steel jackets or sleeves
would be put on, red-hot, and allowed to shrink. Then would come
a winding of wire, to further strengthen the tube, and then more
sleeves or jackets. In this way the gun would be made very

As the greatest pressure would come at the breech, or in the
powder chamber there, the gun would be thickest at this point,
decreasing in size to the muzzle.

It took many weary weeks to get ready for the first cast, but
finally Tom received word that it was to be made, and with Ned,
and Mr. Damon, he proceeded to the plant of the steel concern.

There was some delay, but finally the manager gave the word.
Tom and his friends, standing on a high gallery, watched the
tapping of the combined furnaces that were to let the molten
steel into the caldrons. There were several of these, and their
melted contents were to be poured into the mould at the same

Out gushed the liquid steel, giving off a myriad of sparks. The
workers, as well as the visitors, had to wear violet-tinted
glasses to protect their eyes from the glare.

"Hoist away!" cried the manager, and the electric cranes
started off with the caldrons of liquid fire, weighing many tons.

"Pour!" came the command, and into the pit in the earth
splashed the melted steel that was to form the big cannon. From
each caldron there issued a stream of liquid metal of intense
heat. There were numerous explosions as the air bubbles burst--
explosions almost like a battery in action.

"So far so good!" exclaimed the manager, with a sigh of relief
as the last of the melted stuff ran into the mould. "Now, when it
cools, which won't be for some days, we'll see what we have."

"I hope it contains no flaws," spoke Tom, "That is the worst of
big guns--you never can tell when a flaw will develop. But I

Tom was interrupted by the sound of a dispute at one of the
outer doors of the shop.

"But I tell you I must go in--I belong here in!" a voice cried.
It had a German accent, and at the sound of it Tom and Ned looked
at each other.

"Who is there?" asked the manager sharply of the foreman..

"Oh, a crazy German. He belongs in one of the other shops, and
I guess he's mixed up. He thinks he belongs here. I sent him
about his business."

"That is right," remarked the manager. "I gave orders, at your
request," he said to Tom, "that no one but the men in this part
of the plant were to be present at the casting. I cant understand
what that fellow wanted."

"I think I can," murmured Tom, to himself.



"Tom, aren't you going to try to get a look at that German?"
whispered Ned, as he and his chum came down from the elevated
gallery at the conclusion of the cast. "I mean the one who tried
to get in!"

"I'd like to, Ned, but I don't want to arouse any suspicion,"
replied Tom. "I've got to stay here a while yet, and arrange
about shrinking on the jackets, after the core is rifled. I don't
see how--"

"I'll slip out and see if I can get a peep at him," went on
Ned. "If it's like the one Koku described, we'll know that he's
still after you."

"All right, Ned. Do as you like, only be cautious."

"I will," promised Tom's chum. So, while the young inventor was
busy arranging details with the steel manager, Ned slipped out of
a side door of the casting shop, and looked about the yard. He
saw a little group of workmen surrounding a man who appeared to
be angry.

"I dell you dot is my shop!" one of the men was heard to
exclaim--a man whom the others appeared to dragging away with
main force.

"And I tell you, Baudermann, that you're mistaken!" insisted
one, evidently a foreman. "I told you to work in the brazing
department. What do you want to try to force your way into the
heavy casting department for? Especially when we're doing one of
the biggest jobs that we ever handled--making the new Swift

"Oh, iss dot vot vas going on in dere?" asked the man addressed
as Baudermann. "Shure den, I makes a misdake. I ask your pardon,
Herr Blackwell. I to mine own apartment will go. But I dinks my
foreman sends me to dot place," and he indicated the casting shop
from which he had just been barred.

"All right!" exclaimed the foreman. "Don't make that mistake
again, or I'll dock you for lost time."

"Only just a twisted German employee, I guess," thought Ned, as
he was about to turn back. "I was mistaken. He probably didn't
understand where he was sent."

He passed by the group of men, who, laughing and jeering at the
German, were showing him where to go. He seemed to be a new hand
in the works.

But as Ned passed he got one look at the man's face. Instead of
a stupid countenance, for one instant he had a glimpse of the
sharpest, brightest eyes he had ever looked into. And they were
hard, cruel eyes, too, with a glint of daring in them. And, as
Ned glanced at his figure, he thought he detected a trace of
military stiffness--none of the stoop-shouldered slouch that is
always the mark of a moulder. The fellow's hands, too, though
black and grimy, showed evidences of care under the dirt, and Ned
was sure his uncouth language was assumed.

"I'd like to know more about you," murmured Ned, but the man,
with one sharp glance at him, passed on, seemingly to his own
department of the works.

"Well, what was it?" asked Tom, as his chum rejoined him.

"Nothing very definite, but I'm sure there was something back
of it all, Tom. I wouldn't be surprised but what that fellow--
whoever he was--whatever his object was--hoped to get in to see
the casting; either to get some idea about your new gun, or to do
some desperate deed to spoil it."

"Do you think that, Ned?"

"I sure do. You've got to be on your guard, Tom."

"I will. But I wonder what object anyone could have in spoiling
my gun?"

"So as to make his own cannon stand in a better light."

"Still thinking of General Waller, are you?"

"I am, Tom."

There was nothing more to be done at present, and, as it would
take several days for the big mass of metal to properly cool,
Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon returned to Shopton.

There Tom busied himself over many things. Ned helping him, and
Mr. Damon lending an occasional hand. Koku was very useful, for
often his great strength did what the combined efforts of Tom and
his friends could not accomplish.

As for Eradicate, he "puttered around," doing all he could,
which was not much, for he was getting old. Still Tom would not
think of discharging him, and it was pitiful to see the old
colored man try to do things for the young inventor--tasks that
were beyond his strength. But if Koku offered to help, Eradicate
would draw himself up, and exclaim:

"Git away fom heah! I guess dish yeah coon ain't forgot how t'
wait on Massa Tom. Go 'way, giant. I ain't so big as yo'-all, but
I know de English language, which is mo' 'n yo' all does. Go on
an' lemme be!"

Koku, good naturedly, gave place, for he, too, felt for

"Well, Ned," remarked Tom one day, after the visit of the
postman, "I have a letter from the steel people. They are going
to take the gun out of the mould tomorrow, and start to rifle it.
We'll take a run down in the airship, and see how it looks. I
must take those drawings, too, that show the new plan of
shrinking on the jackets. I guess I'll keep them in my room, so I
won't forget them."

Tom and Ned occupied adjoining and connecting apartments, for,
of late, Ned had taken up his residence with his chum. It was
shortly after midnight that Ned was awakened by hearing someone
prowling about his room. At first he thought it was Tom, for the
shorter way to the bath lay through Ned's apartment, but when the
lad caught the flash of a pocket electric torch he knew it could
not be Tom.

"Who's there?" cried Ned sharply, sitting up in bed.

Instantly the light went out, and there was

"Who's there?" cried Ned again.

This time he thought he heard a stealthy footstep.

"What is it?" called Tom from his chamber.

"Someone is in here!" exclaimed Ned. "Look out, Tom!"



Tom Swift acted promptly, for he realized the necessity. The
events that had hedged him about since he had begun work on his
giant cannon made him suspicious. He did not quite know whom to
suspect, nor the reasons for their actions, but he had been on
the alert for several days, and was now ready to act.

The instant Ned answered as he did, and warned Tom, the young
inventor slid his hand under his pillow and pressed an auxiliary
electric switch he had concealed there. In a moment the rooms
were flooded with a bright light, and the two lads had a
momentary glimpse of an intruder making a dive for the window.

"There he is, Tom!" cried Ned.

"What do you want?" demanded Tom, instinctively. But the
intruder did not stay to answer.

Instead, he made a dive for the casement. It was one story
above the ground, but this did not cause him any hesitation. It
was summer, and the window was open, though a wire mosquito net
barred the aperture. This was no hindrance to the man, however.

As Ned and Tom leaped from their beds, Ned catching up the
heavy, empty water pitcher as a weapon, and Tom an old Indian war
club that served as one of the ornaments of his room, the fellow,
with one kick, burst the screen.

Then, clambering out on the sill, he dropped from sight, the
boys hearing him land with a thud on the turf below. It was no
great leap, though the fall must have jarred him considerably,
for the boys heard him grunt, and then groan as if in pain.

"Quick!" cried Ned. "Ring the bell for Koku, Ned. I want to
capture this fellow if possible."

"Who is he?" asked Ned.

"I don't know, but we'll see if we can size him up. Signal for
the giant!"

There was an electric bell from Tom's room to the apartment of
his big servant, and a speaking tube as well. While Ned was
pressing the button, and hastily telling the giant what had
happened, urging him to get in pursuit of the intruder, Tom had
taken from his bureau a powerful, portable, electric flash lamp,
of the same variety as that used by the would-be thief. Only
Tom's was provided with a tungsten filament, which gave a glaring
white pencil of light, increased by reflectors.

And in this glare the young inventor saw, speeding away over
the lawn, the form of a big man.

"There he goes, Ned!" he shouted.

"So I see. Koku will be right on the job. I told him not to
dress. Can you make out who the fellow is?"

"No, his back is toward us. But he's limping, all right. I
guess that jump jarred him up a bit. Where is Koku?"

"There he goes now!" exclaimed Ned, as a figure leaped from the
side door of the house--a gigantic figure, scantily clad.

"Get to him, Koku!" cried Tom.

"Me git, Master!" was the reply, and the giant sped on.

"Let's go out and lend a hand!" suggested Ned, looking at the
water pitcher as though wondering what he had intended to do with

"I'm with you," agreed Tom. "Only I want to get into something
a little more substantial than my pajamas."

As the two lads hurriedly slipped on some clothing they heard
the voice of Mr. Swift calling:

"What is it, Tom? Has anything happened?"

"Nothing much," was the reassuring answer. "It was a near-
happening, only Ned woke up in time. Someone was in our rooms--a
burglar, I guess."

"A burglar! Good land a massy!" cried Eradicate, who had also
gotten up to see what the excitement was about. "Did you cotch
him, Massa Tom?"

"No, Rad; but Koku is after him."

"Koku? Huh, he nebber cotch anybody. I'se got t' git out dere
mahse'f! Koku? Hu! I s'pects it's dat no-'count cousin ob mine,
arter mah chickens ag'in! I'll lambaste dat coon when I gits him,
so I will. I'll cotch him for yo'-all, Massa Tom," and, muttering
to himself, the aged colored man endeavored to assume the
activity of former years.

"Hark!" exclaimed Ned, as he and Tom were about ready to take
part in the chase. "What's that noise, Tom?"

"Sounds like a motor-cycle."

"It is. That fellow--"

"It's the same chap!" interrupted Tom. "No use trying to chase
him on that speedy machine. He's a mile away from here by now. He
must have had it in waiting, ready for use. But come on, anyhow."

"Where are you going?"

"Out to the shop. I want to see if he got in there."

"But the charged wires?"

"He may have cut them. Come on."

It was as Tom had suspected. The deadly, charged wires, that
formed a protecting cordon about his shops, had been cut, and
that by an experienced hand, probably by someone wearing rubber
gloves, who must have come prepared for that very purpose. During
the night the current was supplied to the wires from a storage
battery, through an intensifying coil, so that the charge was
only a little less deadly than when coming direct from a dynamo.

"This looks bad, Tom," said Ned.

"It does, but wait until we get inside and look around. I'm
glad I took my gun-plans to the house with me."

But a quick survey of the shop did not reveal any damage done,
nor had anything been taken, as far as Tom could tell. The office
of his main shop was pretty well upset, and it looked as though
the intruder had made a search for something, and, not finding
it, had entered the house.

"It was the gun-plans he was after, all right," decided Tom.
"And I believe it was the same fellow who has been making trouble
for me right along."

"You mean General Waller?"

"No, that German--the one who was at the machine shop."

"But who is he--what is his object?"

"I don't know who he is, but he evidently wants my plans.
Probably he's a disappointed inventor, who has been trying to
make a gun himself, and can't. He wants some of my ideas, but he
isn't going to get them. Well, we may as well get back to bed,
after I connect these wires again. I must think up a plan to
conceal them, so they can't be cut."

While Tom and Ned were engaged on this, Koku came back, much
out of breath, to report:

"Me not git, Master. He git on bang-bang machine and go off--

"So we heard, Koku. Never mind, we'll get him yet."

"Hu! Ef I had de fust chanst at him, I'd a cotched dat coon
suab!" declared Eradicate, following the giant. "Koku he done git
in mah way!" and he glared indignantly at the big man.

"That's all right, Rad," consoled Tom. "You did your best. Now
we'll all get to bed. I don't believe he'll come back." Nor did

Tom and Ned were up at the first sign of daylight, for they
wanted to go to the steel works, some miles away, in time to see
the cannon taken out of the mould, and preparations made for
boring the rifle channels. They found the manager, anxiously
waiting for them.

"Some of my men are as interested in this as you are," he said
to the young inventor. "A number of them declare that the cast
will be a failure, while some think it will be a success."

"I think it will be all right, if my plans were followed," said
Tom. "However, we'll see. By the way, what became of that German
who made such a disturbance the day we cast the core?"

"Oh, you mean Baudermann?"


"Why, it's rather queer about him. The foreman of the shop
where he was detailed, saw that he was an experienced man, in
spite of his seemingly stupid ways, and he was going to promote
him, only he never came back."

"Never came back? What do you mean?"

"I mean the day after the cast of the gun was made he
disappeared, and never came back."

"Oh!" exclaimed Tom. He said nothing more, but he believed that
he understood the man's actions. Failing to obtain the desired
information, or perhaps failing to spoil the cast, he realized
that his chances were at an end for the present.

With great care the gun was hoisted from the mould. More eyes
than Tom's anxiously regarded it as it came up out of the casting

"Bless my buttonhook!" cried Mr. Damon, who had gone with the
lads. "It's a monster; isn't it?"

"Oh, wait until you see it with the jackets on exclaimed Ned,
who had viewed the completed drawings. "Then you'll open your

The great piece of hollow steel tubing was lifted to the boring
lathe. Then Tom and the manager examined it for superficial

"Not one!" cried the manager in delight.

"Not that I can see," added Tom.. "It's a success--so far."

"And that was the hardest part of the work," went on the
manager of the steel plant. "I can almost guarantee you success
from now on."

And, as far as the rifling was concerned, this was true. I will
not weary you with the details of how the great core of Tom
Swift's giant cannon was bored. Sufficient to say that, after
some annoying delays, caused by breaks in the machinery, which
had never before been used on such a gigantic piece of work, the
rifling was done. After the jackets had been shrunk on, it would
be rifled again, to make it true in case of any shrinkage.

Then came the almost Herculean task of shrinking on the great
red-hot steel jackets and wire-windings, that would add strength
to the great cannon. To do this the central core was set up on
end, and the jackets, having been heated in an immense furnace,
were hoisted by a great crane over the core, and lowered on it as
one would lower his napkin ring over the rolled up napkin.

It took weeks of hard work to do this, and Tom and Ned, with
Mr. Damon occasionally for company, remained almost constantly at
the plant. But finally the cannon was completed, the rifling was
done over again to correct any imperfections, and the manager

"You cannon is completed, Mr. Swift. I want to congratulate you
on it. Never have we done such a stupendous piece of work. Only
for your plans we could not have finished it. It was too big a
problem for us. Your cannon is completed, but, of course, it will
have to be mounted. What about the carriage?"

"I have plans for that," replied Tom; "but for the present I am
going to put it on a temporary one. I want to test the gun now.
It looks all right, but whether it will shoot accurately, and for
a greater distance than any cannon has ever sent a projectile
before, is yet to be seen."

"Where will you test it?"

"That is what we must decide. I don't want to take it too far
from here. Perhaps you can select a place where it would be safe
to fire it, say with a range of about thirty miles."

"Thirty miles! why, my dear sir--"

"Oh, I'm not altogether sure that it will go that distance,"
interrupted Tom, with a smile; "but I'm going to try for it, and
I want to be on the safe side. Is there such a place near here?"

"Yes, I guess we can pick one out. I'll let you know."

"Then I must get back and arrange for my powder supply," went
on the young inventor. "We'll soon test my giant cannon!"

"Bless my ear-drums!" cried Mr. Damon. "I hope nothing bursts.
For if that goes up, Tom Swift--"

"I'm not making it to burst," put in Tom, with a smile. "Don't
worry. Now, Ned, back to Shopton to get ready for the test."



"Whew, how it rains!" exclaimed Ned, as he looked out of the

"And it doesn't seem to show any signs of letting up," remarked
Tom. "It's been at it nearly a week now, and it is likely to last
a week longer."

"It's beastly," declared his chum. "How can you test your gun
in this weather?"

"I can't. I've got to wait for it to clear."

"Bless my rubber boots! it's just got to stop some time,"
declared Mr. Damon. "Don't worry, Tom."

"But I don't like this delay. I have heard that General Waller
has perfected a new gun--and it's a fine one, from all accounts.
He has the proving grounds at Sandy Hook to test his on, and I'm
handicapped here. He may beat me out."

"Oh, I hope not, Tom!" exclaimed Ned. "I'm going to see what
the weather reports say," and he went to hunt up a paper.

It was several weeks after the completion of Tom's giant
cannon. In the meanwhile the gun had been moved by the steel
company to a little-inhabited part of New York State, some miles
from the plant. The gun had been mounted on an improvised
carriage, and now Tom and his friends were waiting anxiously for
a chance to try it.

The work was not complete, for the steel company employees had
been hampered by the rain. Never before, it seemed, had there
been so much water coming down from the clouds. Nearly every day
was misty, with gradations from mere drizzles to heavy downpours.
There were occasional clear stretches, however, and during them
the men worked.

A few more days of clear weather would be needed before the gun
could be fastened securely to the carriage, and then Tom could
fire one of the great projectiles that had been cast for it. Not
until then would he know whether or not his cannon was going to
be a success.

Meanwhile nothing more had been heard or seen of the spy. He
appeared to have given up his attempts to steal Tom's secret, or
to spoil his plans, if such was his object.

The place of the test, as I have said, was in a deserted spot.
On one side of a great valley the gun was being set up. Its
muzzle pointed up the valley, toward the side of a mountain, into
which the gigantic projectile could plow its way without doing
any damage. Tom was going to fire two kinds of cannon balls--a
solid one, and one containing an explosive.

The gun was so mounted that the muzzle could be elevated or
depressed, or swung from side to side. In this way the range
could be varied. Tom estimated that the greatest possible range
would be thirty miles. It could not be more than that, he
decided, and he hoped it would not be much less. This extreme
range could be attained by elevating the gun to exactly the
proper pitch. Of course, any shorter range could, within certain
limits, also be reached.

The gun was pointed slantingly up the valley, and there was
ample room to attain the thirty-mile range without doing any

At the head of the valley, some miles from where the giant
cannon was mounted, was an immense dam, built recently by a water
company for impounding a stream and furnishing a supply of
drinking water for a distant city. At the other end of the valley
was the thriving village of Preston. A railroad ran there, and it
was to Preston station that Tom's big gun had been sent, to be
transported afterward, on specially made trucks, drawn by
powerful autos, to the place where it was now mounted.

Tom had been obliged to buy a piece of land on which to build
the temporary carriage, and also contract for a large slice of
the opposite mountain, as a target against which to fire his

The valley, as I have said, was desolate. It was thickly wooded
in spots, and in the centre, near the big dam, which held back
the waters of an immense artificial lake, was a great hill,
evidently a relic of some glacial epoch. This hill was a sort of
division between two valleys.

Tom, Ned, Mr. Damon, with Koku, and some of the employees of the
steel company, had hired a deserted farmhouse not far from the
place where the gun was being mounted. In this they lived, while
Tom directed operations.

"The paper says 'clear' tomorrow," read Ned, on his return.
"'Clear, with freshening winds.'"

"That means rain, with no wind at all," declared Tom, with a
sigh. "Well, it can't be helped. As Mr. Damon says, it will clear
some time."

"Bless my overshoes!" exclaimed the odd gentleman. "It always
has cleared; hasn't it?"

No one could deny this.

There came a slackening in the showers, and Tom and Ned,
donning raincoats, went out to see how the work was progressing.
They found the men from the steel concern busy at the great piece
of engineering.

"How are you coming on?" asked Tom of the foreman.

"We could finish it in two days if this rain
would only let up," replied the man.

"Well, let's hope that it will," observed Tom.

"If it doesn't, there's likely to be trouble up above," went on
the foreman, nodding in the direction of the great dam.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the water is getting too high. The dam is
weakening, I heard."

"Is that so? Why, I thought they had made it to stand any sort
of a flood."

"They evidently didn't count on one like this. They've got the
engineer who built it up there, and they're doing their best to
strengthen it. I also heard that they're preparing to dynamite it
to open breeches here and there in it, in case it is likely to
give way suddenly."

"You don't mean it! Say, if it does go out with a rush it will
wipe out the village."

"Yes, but it can't hurt us," went on the foreman. "We're too
high up on the side of the hill. Even if the dam did burst, if
the course of the water could be changed, to send it down that
other valley, it would do no harm, for there are no settlements
over there," and he pointed to the distant hill.

It was near this hill that Tom intended to direct his
projectiles, and on the other side of it was another valley,
running at right angles to the one crossed by the dam.

As the foreman had said, if the waters (in case the dam burst)
could be turned into this transverse valley, the town could be

"But it would take considerable digging to open a way through
that side of the mountain, into the other valley," went on the

"Yes," said Tom, and then he gave the matter no further
thought, for something came up that needed his attention.

"Have you your explosive here?" asked the foreman of the young
inventor the next day, when the weather showed signs of clearing.

"Yes, some of it," said Tom. "I have another supply in a safe
place in the village. I didn't want to bring too much here until
the gun was to be fired. I can easily get it if we need it. Jove!
I wish it would clear. I want to get out in my Humming Bird, but
I can't if this keeps up." Tom had brought one of his speedy
little airships with him to Preston.

The following day the clouds broke a little, and on the next
the sun shone. Then the work on the gun went on apace. Tom and
his friends were delighted.

"Well, I think we can try a shot tomorrow!" announced Tom with
delight on the evening of the first clear day, when all hands had
worked at double time.

"Bless my powder-horn!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "You don't mean

"Yes, the gun is all in place," went on the young inventor. "Of
course, it's only a temporary carriage, and not the disappearing
one I shall eventually use. But it will do. I'm going to try a
shot tomorrow. Everything is in readiness."

There came a knock on the door of the room Tom had fitted up as
an office in the old farmhouse.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Me--Koku," was the answer.

"Well, what do you want, Koku?"

"Man here say him must see Master."

Tom and Ned looked at each other, suspicion in their eyes.

"Maybe it's that spy again," whispered Ned.

"If it is, we'll be ready for him," murmured his chum. "Show
him in, Koku, and you come in too."

But the man who entered at once disarmed suspicion. He was
evidently a workman from the dam above, and his manner was
strangely excited.

"You folks had better get out of here!" he exclaimed.

"Why?" asked Tom, wondering what was going to happen.

"Why? Because our dam is going to burst within a few hours.
I've been sent to warn the folks in town in time to let them take
to the hills. You'd better move your outfit. The dam can't last
twenty-four hours longer!"



"Bless my fountain pen!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "You don't mean

"I sure do!" went on the man who had brought the startling
news. "And the folks down below aren't going to have any more
time than they need to get out of the way. They'll have to lose
some of their goods, I reckon. But I thought I'd stop on my way
down and warn you. You'd better be getting a hustle on."

"It's very kind of you," spoke Torn; "but I don't fancy we are
in any danger."

"No danger!" cried the man. "Say, when that water begins to
sweep-down here nothing on earth can stop it. That big gun of
yours, heavy as it is, will be swept away like a straw, I know--I
saw the Johnstown flood!"

"But we're so high up on the side of the hill, that the water
won't come here," put in Ned. "We had that all figured out when
we heard the dam was weak. We're not in any danger; do you think
so, Tom?"

"Well, I hardly do, or I would not have set the gun where I
did. Tell me," he went on to the man, "is there any way of
opening the dam, to let the water out gradually?"

"There is, but the openings are not enough with such a flood as
this. The engineers never counted on so much rain. It's beyond
any they ever had here. You see, there was a small creek that we
dammed up to make our lake. Some of the water from the spillway
flows into that now, but its channel won't hold a hundredth part
of the flood if the dam goes out.

"You'd better move, I tell you. The dam is slowly weakening.
We've done all we can to save it, but that's out of the question.
The only thing to do is to run while there's time. We've tried to
make additional openings, but we daren't make any more, or the
wall will be so weakened that it will go out in less than twenty-
four hours.

"You've had your warning, now profit by it!" he added. "I'm
going to tell those poor souls down in the valley below. It will
be tough on them; but it can't be helped."

"If the dam bursts and the water could only be turned over into
the transverse valley, this one would be safe," said Tom, in a
low voice.

"Yes, but it can't be done!" the messenger exclaimed. "Our
engineers thought of that, but it would take a week to open a
channel, and there isn't time. It can't be done!"

"Maybe it can," spoke Tom, softly, but no one asked him what he

"Well, I must be off," the man went on. "I've done my duty in
warning you."

"Yes, you have," agreed Tom, "and if any damage comes to us it
will be our own fault. But I don't believe there will."

The man hastened out, murmuring something about "rash and
foolhardy people."

"What are you going to do, Tom?" asked Ned.

"Stay right here."

"But if the dam bursts?"

"It may not, but, if it does, we'll be safe. I have had a look
at the water, and there's no chance for it to rise here, even if
the whole dam went out at once, which is not likely. Don't worry.
We'll be all right."

"Bless my checkbook!" cried Mr. Damon. "But what about those
poor people in the valley?"

"They will have time to flee, and save their lives," spoke the
young inventor; "but they may lose their homes. They can sue the
water company for damages, though. Now don't do any more
worrying, but get to bed, and be ready for the test tomorrow. And
the first thing I do I'm going to have a little flight in the
Humming Bird to get my nerves in trim. This long rain has gotten
me in poor shape. Koku, you must be on the alert tonight. I don't
want anything to happen to my gun at the last minute."

"Me watch!" exclaimed the giant, significantly, as he picked up
a heavy club.

"Do you anticipate any trouble?" asked Ned, anxiously.

"No, but it's best to be on the safe side," answered Tom. "Now
let's turn in."

Certainly the next day, bright and sunshiny as it broke, had in
it little of impending disaster. The weather was fine after the
long-continued rains, and the whole valley seemed peaceful and
quiet. At the far end could be seen the great dam, with water
pouring over it in a thin sheet, forming a small stream that
trickled down the centre of the valley, and to the town below.

But, through great pipes that led to the drinking system,
though they were unseen, thundered immense streams of solid
water, reducing by as much as the engineers were able the
pressure on the concrete wall.

Tom and Ned, in the Humming Bird, took a flight out to the dam
shortly after breakfast, when the steel men were putting a few
finishing touches to the gun carriage, ready for the test that
was to take place about noon.

"It doesn't look as though it would burst," observed Ned, as
the aircraft hovered over the big artificial lake.

"No," agreed Tom. "But I suppose the engineers want to be on
the safe side in case of damage suits. I want to take a look at
the place where the other valley comes up to this at right

He steered his powerful little craft in that direction, and
circled low over the spot.

"A bursting projectile, about where that big white stone is,
would do the trick," murmured Tom.

"What trick?" asked Ned, curiously.

"Oh, I guess I was talking to myself," admitted Tom, with a
laugh. "I may not have to do it, Ned."

"Well, you're talking in riddles today, all right, Tom. When
you get ready to put me wise, please do."

"I will. Now we'll get back, and fire our first long shot. I do
hope I make a record."

There was much to be done, in spite of the fact that the
foreman of the steel workers assured Tom that all was in
readiness. It was some time that afternoon when word was given
for those who wished to retire to an improvised bomb-proof. Word
had previously been sent down the valley so that no one, unless
he was looking for trouble, need be in the vicinity of the gun,
nor near where the shots were to land.

Through powerful glasses Tom and Ned surveyed the distant
mountain that was to be the target. Several great squares of
white cloth had been put at different bare spots to make the
finding of the range easy.

"I guess we're ready now," announced the young inventor, a bit
nervously. "Bring up the powder, Koku."

"Me bring," exclaimed the giant, calmly, as he went to the
bomb-proof where the powerful explosive was kept.

The great projectile was in readiness to be slung into the
breech by means of the hoisting apparatus, for it weighed close
to two tons. It was carefully inserted under Tom's supervision.
It carried no bursting charge, for Tom's first shot was merely to
establish the extreme range that his cannon would shoot.

"Now the powder," called the young inventor. To avoid accidents
Koku handled this himself, the hoisting apparatus being dispensed
with. Tom figured out that five hundred pounds of his new,
powerful explosive would be about the right amount to use, and
this quantity, divided into several packages to make the handling
easier, was quickly inserted in the breech of the gun by Koku.

"Bless my doormat!" cried Mr. Damon, who stood near, looking
nervously on. "Don't drop any of that."

"Me no drop," was the answer.

Tom was busily engaged in figuring on a bit of paper, and Ned,
who looked over his shoulder, saw a complicated compilation that
looked to he a combination of geometry, algebra, differential
calculus and other higher mathematics.

"What are you doing, Tom?" he asked.

"I'm trying to confirm my own theories by means of figures, to
see if I can really reach that farthest target."

"What, not the one thirty miles away.

"That's it, Ned. I want to get a thirty-mile range if I can."

"It isn't possible, Tom."

"Bless my tape measure! I should say not!" cried Mr. Damon.

"We'll see," replied Tom, quietly. "Put in the primer, Ned;
and, Koku, close the breech and slot it home."

In a few seconds the great gun was ready for firing.

"Now," said Tom, "this thing may be all right, and it may not.
The only thing that can cause an accident will be a flaw in the
steel. No one can guard against that. So, in order to be on the
safe side, we will all go into the bomb-proof, and I will fire
the gun from there. The wires are long enough."

They all agreed that this was good advice, and soon the steel
men and Tom's friends were gathered in a sort of cave that had
been hollowed out in the side of the hill, and at an angle from
the big gun.

"If it does burst--which I hope it won't," said Tom, "the
pieces will fly in straight lines, so we will be safe enough
here. Ned, are you are ready at the instruments?"

"Yes, Tom."

"I want you to note the registered muzzle velocity. Mr. Damon,
you will please read the pressure gauge. After I press the button
I'm going to watch the landing of the projectile through the

The gun had been pointed, as I have said, at the farthest
target--one thirty miles away, telescope sights on the giant
cannon making this possible.

"All ready!" cried Tom.

"All ready," answered Ned.

There was a tense moment; Tom's thumb pressed home the electric
button, and then came the explosion.

It seemed for a moment as if everyone was lifted from his feet.
They had all stood on their tiptoes, and opened their mouths to
lessen the shock, but even then it was terrific. The very ground
shook--from the roof of their cave small stones and gravel
rattled down on their heads. Their ear-drums were numbed from the
shock. And the noise that filled the valley seemed like a
thousand thunderbolts merged into one.

Tom rushed from the bombproof, dropping the electric button. He
caught sight of his gun, resting undisturbed on the improvised

"Hurray!" he cried in delight. "She stood the charge all right.
And look! look!" he cried, as he pointed the glasses toward the
distant hillside. "There goes my projectile as straight as an
arrow. There! By Caesar, Ned! It landed within three feet of the
target! Oh, you beauty!" he yelled at his giant cannon. "You did
all I hoped you would! Thirty miles, Ned! Think of that! A two-
ton projectile being shot thirty miles!"

"It's great, Tom!" yelled his chum, clapping him on the back,
and capering about. "It's the longest shot on record."

"It certainly is," declared the foreman of the steel workers,
who had helped in casting many big guns. "No cannon ever made can
equal it. You win, Tom Swift!"

"Bless my armor plate!" gasped Mr. Damon. "What attacking ship
against the Panama Canal could float after a shot like that."

"Not one," declared Tom; "especially after I put a bursting
charge into the projectile. We'll try that next."

By means of compressed air the gases and some particles of the
unexploded powder were blown out of the big cannon. Then it was
loaded again, the projectile this time carrying a bursting charge
of another explosive that would be set off by concussion.

Once more they retired to the bombproof, and again the great
gun was fired. Once more the ground shook, and they were nearly
deafened by the shock.

Then, as they looked toward the distant hillside, they saw a
shower of earth and great rocks rise up. It was like a sand
geyser. Then, when this settled back again, there was left a
gaping hole in the side of the mountain.

"That does the business!" cried Tom. "My cannon is a success!"

The last shot did not go quite as far as the first, but it was
because a different kind of projectile was used. Tom was
perfectly satisfied, however. Several more trials were given the
gun, and each one confirmed the young inventor in his belief that
he had made a wonderful weapon.

"If that doesn't fortify the Panama Canal nothing will,"
declared Ned.

"Well, I hope I can convince Uncle Sam of that," spoke Tom,

The muzzle velocity and the pressure were equal to Tom's
highest hopes. He knew, now, that he had hit on just the right
mixture of powder, and that his gun was correctly proportioned.
It showed not the slightest strain.

"Now we'll try another bursting shell," he said, after a rest,
during which some records were made. "Then we'll call it a day's
work. Koku, bring up some more powder. I'll use a little heavier
charge this time."

It was while the gun was being loaded that a horseman was seen
riding wildly down the valley. He was waving a red flag in his

"Bless my watch chain!" cried Mr. Damon. "What's that?"

"It looks as though he was coming to give us a warning,"
suggested the steel foreman.

"Maybe someone has kicked about our shooting," remarked Ned.

"I hope not," murmured Tom.

He looked at the horseman anxiously. The rider came nearer and
nearer, wildly waving his flag. He seemed to be shouting
something, but his words could not be made out. Finally he came
near enough to be heard.

"The dam! The dam!" he cried. "It's bursting. Your shots have
hastened it. The cracks are widening. You'd better get away!" And
he galloped on.

"Bless my toilet soap!" gasped Mr. Damon.

"I was afraid of this!" murmured Tom. "But, since our shots
have hastened the disaster, maybe we can avert it."

"How?" demanded Ned.

"I'll show you. All hands come here and we'll shift this gun. I
want it to point at that big white stone!" and he indicated an
immense boulder, well up the valley, near the place where the two
great gulches joined.



"What are you going to do, Tom?" cried Ned, as he, with the
others, worked the hand gear that shifted the big gun. When it
was permanently mounted electricity would accomplish this work.
"What's your game, Tom?"

"Don't you remember, Ned? When we were talking about the chance
of the dam bursting, I said if the current of suddenly released
water could be turned into the other valley, the people below us
would be saved."


"Well, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to fire a
bursting shell at the point where the two valleys come together.
I'll break down the barrier of rock and stone between them."

"Bless my shovel and hoe!" cried Mr. Damon.

"If we can turn enough of the water into the other valley,
where no one lives, and where it can escape into the big river
there, the amount that will flow down this valley will be so
small that only a little damage will be done."

"That's right!" declared the steel foreman, as he caught Tom's
idea. "It's the only way it could be done, too, for there won't
be time to make the necessary excavation any other way. Is the
gun swung around far enough, Mr. Swift?"

"No, a little more toward me," answered Tom, as he peered
through the telescope sights. "There, that will do. Now to get
the proper elevation," and he began to work the other apparatus,
having estimated the range as well as he could.

In a few seconds the giant cannon was properly trained on the
white rock. Meanwhile the horseman, with his red flag, had
continued on down the valley. In spite of his warning of the
night before, it developed that a number had disregarded it, and
had remained in their homes. Most of the inhabitants, however,
had fled to the hills, to stay in tents, or with such neighbors
as could accommodate them. Some lingered to move their household
goods, while others fled with what they could carry.

It was to see that the town was deserted by these late-stayers
that the messenger rode, crying his warning as did the messenger
at the bursting of the Johnstown dam twenty-odd years ago.

"The projectile!" cried Tom, as he saw that all was in
readiness. "Lively now! I can see the top of the dam beginning to
crumble," and he laid aside the telescope he had been using.

The projectile, with a heavy charge of bursting powder, was
slung into the breech of the gun.

"Now the powder, Koku!" called Tom. "Be quick; but not so fast
that you drop any of it."

"Me fetch," responded the giant, as he hastened toward the
small cave where the explosive was kept. As the big man brought
the first lot, and Ned was about to insert it in the breech of
the gun, behind the projectile, Tom exclaimed:

"Just let me have a look at that. It's some that I first made,
and I want to be sure it hasn't gone stale."

Critically he looked at the powerful explosive. As he did so a
change came over his face.

"Here, Koku!" the young inventor said. "Where did you get

"In cave, Master."

"Is there any more left?"

"Only enough for this one shoot."

"By Jove!" muttered Tom. "There's been some trick played here!"
and he set off on a run toward the bomb-proof.

"What's the matter?" cried Ned, as he noticed the agitation of
his chum.

"The powder has been doped!" yelled Tom. "Something has been
put in it to make it nonexplosive. It's no good. It wouldn't send
that shell a thousand yards, and it's got to go five miles to do
any good. My plan won't work."

"Doped the powder?" gasped Ned. "Who could have done it?"

"I don't know. There must have been some spy at work. Quick,
run and ask the foreman if any of his men are missing. I'll see
if there's enough of the good powder left to break down the

Ned was away like a shot, while the others, not knowing what to
make of the strange conduct of the two lads, looked on in wonder.
Tom raced toward the cave where the powder was stored, Koku
following him.

"Bless my shoe laces!" cried Mr. Damon. "Look at the dam now

They gazed to where he pointed. In several places the concrete
spillway had crumbled down to a ragged edge, showing that the
solid wall was giving way. The amount of water flowing over the
dam was greater now. The creek was steadily rising. Down the
valley the horseman with the red flag was but a speck in the

"What can I do? What can I do?" murmured Tom. "If all the
powder there is left has been doped, I can't save the town! What
can I do? What can I do?"

Ned had reached the foreman, who, with his helpers, was
standing about the big gun.

"Have any of your men left recently?" yelled Ned.

"Any of my men left? What do you mean?

"Schlichter went yesterday," said the timekeeper. "I thought he
was in quite a hurry to get his money, too."

"Schlichter gone!" exclaimed the foreman. "He was no good
anyhow. I think he was a sort of Anarchist; always against the
government, the way he talked. So he has left; eh? But what's the
matter, Ned?"

"Something wrong with the powder. Tom can't shoot the cannon
and turn aside the water to save the town. Some of his enemies
have been at work. Schlichter leaving at this time, and in such
hurry, makes it look suspicious."

"It sure does! And, now I recall it, I saw him yesterday near
your powder magazine. I called him down for it, for I knew Tom
Swift had given orders that only his own party was to go near it.
So the powder is doped; eh?"

"Yes! It's all off now."

He turned to see Tom approaching on the run.

"Any good powder left?" asked Ned.

"Not a pound. Did you hear anything?"

"Yes, one man has disappeared. Oh, Tom, we've got to fail after
all! We can't save the town!"

"Yes, we can, Ned. If that dam will only hold for half an hour

"What do you mean

"I mean that I have another supply of good powder in the
village. I secreted some there, you remember I told you. If I can
go get that, and get back here in time, I can break down the
barrier with one shot, and save Preston."

"But you never can make the trip there and back in time, with
the powder, Tom. It's impossible. The dam may hold half an hour,
or it may not. But, if it does, you can't do anything!"

"I can't? Well, I'm going to make a big try, Ned. You stay on
the job here. Have everything ready so that when I get back with
the new explosive, which I hope hasn't been tampered with, I can
shove it into the breech, and set it off. Have the wires, primers
and button all ready for me."

Then Tom set off on the run.

"Where are you going?" gasped his chum. "You can never run to
Preston and back in time."

"I don't intend to. I'm going in my airship. Koku, never mind
bringing the rest of the powder from the cave. It's no good. Run
out the Humming Bird. I'm going to drive her to the limit. I've
just got to get that powder here on time!"

"Bless my timetable!" gasped Mr. Damon. "That's the only way it
can be done. Lucky Tom brought the airship along!"

The young inventor, pausing only to get some cans for the
explosive, and some straps with which to fasten them in the
monoplane, leaped into the speedy craft.

The motor was adjusted; Koku whirled the propeller blades.
There was a staccato succession of explosions, a rushing, roaring
sound, and then the craft rose like a bird, and Tom circled
about, making a straight course for the distant town, while below
him the creek rose higher and higher as the dam continued to
crumble away.



"Can you see anything of him, Ned?"

"Not a thing, Mr. Damon. Wait--hold on--no! It's only a bird,"
and the lad lowered the glasses with which he had been sweeping
the sky. looking for his chum returning in his airship with the

"He'd better hurry," murmured the foreman. "That dam can't last
much longer. The water is rising fast. When it does go out it
will go with a rush. Then good-bye to the village of Preston."

"Bless my insurance policy!" cried Mr. Damon. "Don't say such
things, my friend."

"But they're true!" insisted the man. "You can see for yourself
that the cracks in the dam are getting larger. It will be a big
flood when it does come. And I'm not altogether sure that we're
safe up here," he added, as he looked down the sides of the hill
to where the creek was now rapidly becoming a raging torrent.

"Bless my hat-band!" gasped Mr. Damon. "You--you are getting on
my nerves

"I don't want to be a calamity howler," went on the foreman;
"but we've got to face this thing. We'd better get ready to
vamoose if Tom Swift doesn't reach here in time to fire that
shot--and he doesn't seem to be in sight."

Once more Ned swept the sky with his glasses. The roar of the
water below them could be plainly heard now.

"I wish I could get hold of that rascally German," muttered the
foreman. "I'd give him more than a piece of my mind. It will be
his fault if the town is destroyed, for Tom's plan would have
saved it. I wonder who he can be, anyhow?"

"Some spy," declared Ned. "We've been having trouble right
along, you know, and this is part of the game. I have some
suspicions, but Tom doesn't agree with me. Certainly the fellow,
whatever his object, has made trouble enough this time."

"I should say so," agreed the foreman.

"Look, Ned!" cried Mr. Damon. "Is that a
bird; or is it Tom?" and he pointed to a speck in
the sky. Ned quickly focused his glasses on it.

"It's Tom!" he cried a second later. "It's Tom in the Humming

"Thank Heaven for that!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, fervently,
forgetting to bless anything on this occasion. "If only he can
get here in time!"

"He's driving her to the limit!" cried Ned, still watching his
chum through the glass. "He's coming!"

"He'll need to," murmured the foreman, grimly. "That dam can't
last ten minutes more. Look at the people fleeing from the

He pointed to the north, and a confused mass of small black
objects--men, women and children, doubtless, who had lingered in
spite of the other warning--could be seen clambering up the sides
of the valley.

"Is everything ready at the gun?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Everything," answered Ned, whom Tom had instructed in all the
essentials. "As soon as he lands we'll jam in the powder, and
fire the shot."

"I hope he doesn't land too hard, with all that explosive on
board," murmured the foreman.

"Bless my checkerboard!" cried Mr. Damon. "Don't suggest such a

"I guess we can trust Tom," spoke Ned.

They looked up. The distant throb of the monoplane's motor
could now be heard above the roar of the swollen waters. Tom
could be seen in his seat, and beside him, in the other, was a
large package.

Nearer and nearer came the monoplane. It began to descend, very
gently, for well Tom Swift knew the danger of hitting the ground
too hard with the cargo he carried.

He described a circle in the air to check his speed. Then,
gently as a bird, he made a landing not far from the gun, the
craft running easily over one of the few level places on the side
of the hill. Tom yanked on the brake, and the iron-shod pieces of
wood dug into the ground, checking the progress of the monoplane
on its bicycle wheels.

"Have you got it, Tom?" yelled Ned.

"I have," was the answer of the young inventor as he leaped
from his seat.

"Is it good powder?" asked the foreman, anxiously.

"I don't know," spoke Tom. "I didn't have time to look. I just
rushed up to where I had stored it, got some out and came back
with the motor at full speed. Ran into an airpocket, too, and I
thought it was all up with me when I began to fall. But I managed
to get out of it. Say, we're going to have it nip and tuck here
to save the village."

"That's what!" agreed the foreman, as he helped Koku take the
cans of explosive.

"Wait until I look at it," suggested Tom, as he opened one. His
trained eye and touch soon told him that this explosive had not
been tampered with.

"It's all right!" he shouted. "Into the gun with it, and we'll
see what happens."

It was the work of only a few moments to put in the charge.
Then, once more, the breech-block was slotted home, and the
trailing electric wires unreeled to lead to the bomb-proof.

Tom Swift took one last look through the telescope sights of
his giant cannon. He changed the range slightly by means of the
hand and worm-screw gear, and then, with the others, ran to the
shelter of the cave. For, though the gun had stood the previous
tests well, Tom had used a heavier charge this time, both in the
firing chamber and in the projectile, and he wanted to take no

"All ready?" asked the young inventor, as he looked around at
his friends gathered in the cave.

"I--I guess so," answered Ned, somewhat doubtfully.

Tom hesitated a moment, then, as his fingers stiffened to press
the electric button there sounded to the ears of all a dull,
booming sound.

"The dam! It has given way!" cried Ned.

"That's it!" shouted the foreman. "Fire!"

Tom pressed the button. Once again was that awful tremor of the
earth--the racking shake--the terrific explosion and a shock that
knocked a couple of the men down.

"All right!" shouted Tom. "The gun held together. It's safe to
go out. We'll see what happened!"

They all rushed from the shelter of the cave. Before them was
an awe-inspiring sight. A great wall of water was coming down the
valley, from a large opening in the centre of the dam. It seemed
to leap forward like a race horse.

Tom declared afterward that he saw his projectile strike the
barrier that separated one valley from the other, but none of the
others had eyes-sight as keen as this--and perhaps Tom was in

But there was no doubt that they all saw what followed. They
heard a distant report as the great projectile burst. Then a wall
of earth seemed to rise up in front of the advancing wall of
water. High into the air great stones and masses of dirt were

"A good shot!" cried the foreman. "Just in the right place,
Tom Swift!"

For a moment it was as though that wall of water hesitated, not
deciding whether to continue on down the populated valley, or to
swing over into the other gash where it could do comparatively
little harm. It was a moment of suspense.

Then, as Tom's great shot had, by means of the exploding
projectile, torn down the barrier, the water chose the more
direct and shorter path. With a mighty roar, like a distant
Niagara, it swept into the new channel the young inventor had
made. Into the transverse valley it tumbled and tossed in muddy
billows of foam, and only a small portion of the flood added
itself to the already swollen creek.

The village of Preston had been saved by the
shot from Tom's giant cannon.



"Whew! Let me sit down somewhere and get my breath!" gasped
Tom, when it was all over.

"I should think you would want a bit of quiet," replied Ned.
"You've been on the jump since early morning."

"Bless my dining-room table!" cried Mr. Damon. "I should say
so! I'll go tell the cook to get us all a good meal--we need it,"
for a competent cook had been installed in the old farmhouse
where Tom and his party had their headquarters.

"But you did the trick, Tom, old man!" exclaimed Ned,
fervently, as he looked down the valley and saw the receding
water. For, with the opening of the channel into the other valley
the flood, at no time particularly dangerous near Preston, was
subsiding rapidly.

"He sure did," declared the foreman. "No one else could have
done it, either."

"Oh, I don't know," spoke Tom, modestly. "It just happened so.
There was one minute, though, after I got to the place in Preston
where I had stored the powder, that I didn't know whether I would
succeed or not."

"How was that?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Why, in my hurry and excitement I forgot the key to the
underground storeroom where I had put the explosive. I knew there
was no time to get another, so I took a chance and burst in the
door with an axe I found in the freight depot."

"I should say you did take a chance!" declared Ned, who knew
how "freaky" the high explosive was, and how likely it was, at
times, to be set off by the least concussion.

"But it came out all right," went on Tom. "I bundled it into
the other seat of my Humming Bird, and started back."

"Had most of the folks left town?" asked the foreman.

"Nearly all," replied Tom. "The last of them were hurrying away
as I left. And it shows how scared they were, they didn't pay any
attention to me and my flying machine, though I'll wager some of
them never saw one before."

"Well, they don't need to be scared any more," put in Mr. Damon
"You saved their homes for them, Tom."

"I'd like to get hold of the fellow who doped my powder; that's
what I'd like to do," murmured the young inventor. "Ned, we'll
have to be doubly watchful from now on. But I must take a look at
my gun. That last charge may have strained it."

But the giant cannon was as perfect as the day it was turned
out of the shop. Not even the extra charge of the powerful
explosive had injured it.

"That's fine!" cried Tom, as he looked at every part. "As soon
as this flood is over we'll try some more practice shots. But
we're all entitled to a rest now"

The great gun was covered with tarpaulins to protect it from
the weather, and then all retired to the house for a bountiful
meal. Late that afternoon nearly all signs of the flood had
disappeared, save that along the edges of the creek was much
driftwood, showing the height to which the creek had risen. But
it would have gone much higher had it not been for Tom's timely

The water from the impounded lake continued to pour down into
the cross valley, and did some damage, but nothing like what
would have followed its advent into Preston. The few inhabitants
of the gulch into which the young inventor had directed the flood
had had warning, and had fled in time. In Preston, some few
houses nearest the banks of the rising creek were flooded, but
were not carried away.

The following day some of the officers of the water company
paid a visit to Tom, to thank him for what he had done. But for
him they would have been responsible for great property damage,
and loss of life might have followed.

They intended to rebuild the dam, they said, on a new
principle, making it much stronger.

"And," said the president, "we will have an emergency outlet
gate into that valley you so providentially opened for us, Mr.
Swift. Then, in time of great rain, we can let the water out
slowly as we need to."

Tom's chief anxiety, now, was to bring his perfected gun to the
notice of the United States Government officials. To have them
accept it, he knew he must give it a test before the ordnance
board, and before the officers of the army and navy. Accordingly
he prepared for this.

He ordered several new projectiles, some of a different type
from those heretofore used, and leaving Koku and Ned in charge of
the gun, went back to Shopton to superintend the manufacture of
an additional supply of his explosive. He took care, too, that no
spies gained access to it.

Then, with a plentiful supply of ammunition and projectiles,
Tom resumed his practice in the lonely valley. He had, in the
meanwhile, sent requests to the proper government officials to
come and witness the tests.

At first he met with no success, and he learned, incidentally,
that General Waller had built a new gun, the merits of which he
was also anxious to show.

"It's a sort of rivalry between us," said Tom to Ned.

But, in a way, fortune favored our hero. For when General
Waller tested his new gun, though it did not burst, it did not
come up to expectations, and its range was not as great as some
of the weapons already in use.

Then, too, Captain Badger acted as Tom's friend at court. He
"pulled wires" to good advantage, and at last the government sent
word that one of the ordnance officers would be present on a
certain day to witness the tests.

"I wish the whole board had come," said Tom. "Probably they
have only sent a young fellow, just out of West Point, who will
turn me down.

"But I'm going to give him the surprise of his life; and if he
doesn't report favorably, and insist on the whole board coming
out here, I'll be much disappointed."

Tom made his preparations carefully, and certainly Captain
Waydell, the young officer who came to represent Uncle Sam, was
impressed. Tom sent shell after shell, heavily charged, against
the side of the mountain. Great holes and gashes were torn in the
earth. The gun even exceeded the range of thirty miles. And the
heaviest armor plate that could be procured was to the
projectiles of the giant cannon like cheese to a revolver bullet.

"It's great, Mr. Swift! Great!" declared the young captain. "I
shall strongly recommend that the entire board see this test."
And when Tom let him fire the gun himself the young man was more
than delighted.

He was as good as his word, and a week later the entire
ordnance board, from the youngest member to the grave and
grizzled veterans, were present to witness the test of Tom's
giant cannon.

It is needless to say that it was successful. Tom and Ned, not
to mention Mr. Damon, Koku and every loyal member of the steel
working gang, saw to it that there was no hitch. The solid shots
were regarded with wonder, and when the explosive one was sent
against the hillside, making a geyser of earth, the enthusiasm
was unbounded.

"We shall certainly recommend your gun, Mr. Swift," declared
the Chief of Staff. "It does just what we want it to do, and we
have no doubt that Congress will appropriate the money for
several with which to fortify the Panama Canal."

"The gun is most wonderful," spoke a voice with a German
accent. "It is surprising!"

Tom and Ned both started. They saw an officer, evidently a
foreigner, resplendent in gold trimmings, and with many medals,
standing near the secretary of the ordnance board.

"Yes, General von Brunderger," agreed the chief, "it is a most
timely invention. Mr. Swift, allow me to present you to General
von Brunderger, of the German army, who is here learning how
Uncle Sam does things."

Tom bowed and shook hands. He glanced sharply at the German,
but was sure he had never seen him before. Then all the board,
and General von Brunderger, who, it appeared, was present as an
invited guest, examined the big cannon critically, while Tom
explained the various details.

When the board members left, the chief promised to let Tom know
the result of the formal report as soon as possible.

The young inventor did not have long to wait. In about two
weeks, during which time he and Ned perfected several little
matters about the cannon, there came an official-looking

"Well, we'll soon know the verdict," spoke Tom, somewhat
nervously, as he opened the envelope. Quickly he read the

"What is it!" cried Ned.

"The government accepts my gun!" exclaimed the young inventor.
"It will purchase a number as soon as they can be made. We are to
take one to Panama, where it will be set up. Hurray, Ned, my boy!
Now for Panama!"



"WELL," Tom, it doesn't seem possible; does it, old man?"

"You're right, Ned--in a way. And yet, after all the hard work
we've done, almost anything is possible."

"Hard work! We? Oh, pshaw! You've done most of it, Tom. I only
helped here and there."

"Indeed, and you did more than that. If it hadn't been for you,
Mr. Damon and Koku we'd never have gotten off as soon as we did.
The government is the limit for doing things, sometimes."

"Bless my timetable! but I agree with you," put in Mr. Damon.
"But at last we are on the way, in spite of delays."

This conversation took place on board one of Uncle Sam's
warships, which the President had designated to take Tom's giant
cannon to the Panama Canal.

The big gun had been lashed to the deck of the vessel, and was
well protected from the weather. In the hold the parts of the
disappearing carriage, which Tom had at last succeeded in having
made, were securely stowed. In another part of the warship were
the big projectiles, some arranged to be fired as solid shots,
and others with a bursting charge. There was also a good supply
of the powerful explosive, and Tom had taken extraordinary
precautions so that it could not be tampered with. Koku had been
detailed as a sort of guard over it, and to relieve him was a
trustworthy sergeant of marines.

"If anyone tries to dope that powder now, and spoil my test at
Panama," declared Tom, "he'll wish he'd never tried it."

"Especially if Koku gets hold of him," added Ned, grimly.

"But I don't believe there is any danger," went on the young
inventor. "I spoke about what had happened, and the ordnance
board took extra precautions to see that none but men and
officers who could be implicitly trusted had anything to do with
this expedition."

"You don't really believe anything like treachery would be
attempted; do you, Tom?"

"I don't know what to say. Certainly I can't see why anyone
connected with Uncle Sam would want to throw cold water on a plan
to fortify the canal, even if an outsider has invented the gun--I
mean someone like myself, not connected with the army or navy."

"If it's anything it's jealousy," declared Ned, "That General

"There you go again, Ned. Let's not talk about it. Come on
forward and see what progress we are making."

It must not be supposed that to get the big gun aboard the
vessel, arrange for a new supply of the explosive, and for many
of the great projectiles, had been easy work. It was a task that
taxed the skill and strength of Tom and his friends to the

There had been wearying delays, especially in the matter of
making the disappearing carriage. At times it seemed as if the
required projectiles would never be finished. The powder, too,
gave trouble, for sometimes batches would be turned out that were
utterly worthless.

But Tom never gave up, even when it seemed that some of the
failures were purposely made. Ned declared that there was a
conspiracy against his chum, but Tom could not see it that way.
It was due to a combination of circumstances, he insisted.

But finally the gun had been put aboard the ship, having been
transported from the proving ground in the valley, and they were
now en route to Panama. There the giant cannon was to be set up,
and tried again. If it came up to expectations it was to be
finally adopted as the official gun for the protection of the big
canal, and Tom would receive a substantial reward.

"And I'm confident that it will make good," said the young
inventor to his chum, as they paced the deck of the vessel. "In
fact, I'm so sure I have practically engaged the Universal Steel
Company to hold itself in readiness to make several more of the

"But suppose Uncle Sam decides against the cannon on this
second test?"

"Well, then I've lost out, that's all," declared Tom,
philosophically. "But I don't believe they will."

"It certainly is a giant cannon," remarked Ned, as he paused to
look at the prostrate monster, lashed to the deck, with its
wrappings of tarpaulins. "It looks bigger here than it did when
you fired the shot that saved the town, Tom."

"Yes, I suppose it does, by contrast. But let's go down and see
how the powder and shells are standing the trip. I told the
captain to have them securely lashed, so if we struck rough
weather, and the vessel rolled, they wouldn't carry away."

"Especially the powder," put in Ned. "If that starts to banging
around--well, I'd rather be somewhere else."

"Bless my rain gauge!" cried Mr. Damon. "Please don't say such
things. You make me nervous. You're as bad as that steel

"All right, I'll be better," promised Ned, with a laugh.

The two chums found that every precaution had been taken in
regard to the projectiles and powder. Koku was on guard, the
giant regarding the boxes of explosive with a calm but determined
eye. It would not be well for any unauthorized hand to tamper
with them.

"Am dere anyt'ing I kin do fo' yo'-all, Massa Tom?" inquired
Eradicate, as the young inventor and Ned prepared to go on deck
again. The aged colored man had insisted on coming as a sort of
personal bodyguard to Tom, and the latter had not the heart to
refuse him. Eradicate was desperately jealous of the giant.

"Huh!" Eradicate had said, "anybody kin sit an' look at a lot
ob dem powder boxes; but 'tain't everybody what kin wait on Massa
Tom. I kin, an' I'se gwine t' do it." And so he had.

It was planned to proceed directly to Colon, the eastern
terminus of the canal, from New York, stopping at Santiago to
transact some government business there. The big gun was to be
mounted on a barbette near the Gatun locks, pointing out to sea,
and the trial shots would be fired over the water.

Eventually the gun would be so mounted as to swing in a
circle,, so as to command the land as well as the water; and, in
fact, if the government decided to adopt Tom's giant cannon as
the official protective arm of the canal, they would all be so
mounted. For, of course, it might be possible for land as well as
sea forces to attack and try to capture the big ditch.

The first few days of the voyage were pleasant enough. The
weather was fine, and Tom was kept busy explaining to many of the
officers aboard the ship the principles of his gun, powder and
projectiles. Members of the ordnance board, who had been detailed
to witness the test, were also much interested as Tom modestly
described his work on the giant cannon.

At Santiago de Cuba, when Tom and Ned were standing near the
gangway, watching the officers returning from shore leave, for
the ship was to proceed soon, after a two days' stay, the young
inventor started as he noticed a military man walking aboard.

"Look, Ned!" he exclaimed, in a low voice.


"At that man--an officer in civilian dress, I should judge--
haven't you seen him before?"

"I have, Tom. Now, where was it? I seem to remember his face;
and yet he wasn't dressed like this the last time I saw him."

"I guess not, Ned. He had on a uniform then."

"By jinks! I have it. That German officer--von Brunderger!
That's he!"

"You're right, Ned. And he's got his servant with him, I
guess," and Tom nodded toward a stolid German who was carrying
the other's suitcase.

"I wonder what he's doing aboard here?" went on our hero's

"We'll soon know," spoke Tom. "He's seen us and is nodding. We
might as well go meet him."

"Ah, my good friend, Tom Swift!" exclaimed General von
Brunderger, genially, as he grasped the hands of Tom and Ned. "I
am glad to see you both again." He seemed to mean it, though he
had not been especially cordial to them at the first gun test.
"Take my grip below," he said in German to the man, "and,
Rudolph, find Lieutenant Blake and inform him that I am on board.
I have been invited to go to Panama by Lieutenant Blake," he
added to Tom. "I have never seen the big ditch that you wonderful
Americans have so nearly finished."

"It is going to be a big thing," spoke Tom. "I am proud that my
gun is going to help protect it."

"Ah, so you were successful, then?" and his voice expressed
surprise. "I had not heard. And the big gun; is he here?" Though
speaking very good English, von Brunderger occasionally lapsed
into the idioms of his Fatherland.

"Yes, it's on board," said Tom. "Are you going to Panama for
any special purpose?"

Ned declared afterward that the German started as Tom asked
this question, but if he did the young inventor scarcely noticed
it. In an instant, however, von Brunderger was composed again.

"I go but to see the big ditch before the water is let in," he
replied. "And since your gun is to have a test I shall be glad to
witness that. You see, I am commissioned by my Kaiser to learn
all that you Americans will allow me to in reference to your ways
of doing things--in the army, the navy and in the pursuit of
peace. After all, preparation for war is the best means of
securing peace. Your officers have been more than kind and I have
taken advantage of the offer to go to Panama. Lieutenant Blake
said the ship would stop here, and, as I had business in Cuba, I
came and waited. I am delighted to see you both again."

He went below, leaving Tom and Ned staring at one another.

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Ned.

"I don't see anything to be worried about," declared Tom. "It's
true that a German once tried to make trouble for me, but this
von Brunderger is all right, as far as I can learn. He has the
highest references, and is an accredited representative of the
Kaiser. You are too suspicious, Ned, just as you were in the case
of General Waller."

"Maybe so."

From Santiago, swinging around the island of Jamaica, the
warship took her way, with the big gun, to Colon. When half way
across the Caribbean Sea they encountered rough weather.

The storm broke without any unusual preliminaries, but quickly
increased to a hurricane, and when night fell it saw the big ship
rolling and tossing in a tempestuous sea. Torn was anxious about
his big gun, but the captain assured him that double lashings
would make it perfectly safe.

Tom and Ned had seen little of the German officer that day,
nor, in fact, since he came aboard. He kept much in the quarters
of the other officers, and the report was current that he was a
"jolly good fellow."

Rather anxious as to the outcome of the storm, Tom turned in
late that night, not expecting to sleep much, for there were many
unusual noises. But he did drop off into a doze, only to be
awakened about an hour later by a commotion on deck.

"What's up, Ned?" he called to his chum, who had an adjoining

"I don't know, Tom. Something is going on, though. Hear that
thumping and pounding!"

As Ned spoke there came a tremendous noise from the deck.

"By Jove!" yelled Tom, jumping from his berth. "It's my big
gun! It has torn loose from the lashings and may roll overboard!"



"Steady there now, men! Pass forward those lashings! Careful!
Look out, or you'll be caught by it when she rolls! Another turn
around the bitts!"

It was the officer of the deck giving orders to a number of
marines and sailors as Tom hastily clad, leaped on deck, followed
by his chum. The warship was pitching and tossing worse than ever
in the heaving billows, and the men were engaged in making fast
the giant cannon, which, as Tom had surmised, had torn loose from
the steel cables holding it down on deck.

"Come on, Ned!" cried Tom. "We've got to help here!"

"That's right. Look at her swing, would you? If she hits
anything it's a goner!"

The breech of the gun appeared to be the end that had come
loose, while the muzzle still held fast. And this immense mass of
steel was swinging about, eluding the efforts of the ship's
officers and crew to capture it. And it seemed only a question of
time when the muzzle would tear loose, too. Then, free on deck,
the giant cannon would roll through the frail bulwarks, and
plunge. into the depths of the sea.

"Look out for yourselves, boys!" cried the officer, as he saw
Tom and Ned. "This is no plaything!"

"I know it!" gasped Tom. "But we've got to fasten it down."

"That's what we're trying to do," answered the other. "We did
get the bight of a cable over the breech, but the men could not
hold it, even though they took a couple of turns around the

"Ned, go call Koku!" cried Tom. "We need him up here."

"That's right!" declared his chum. "If anyone can hold the
cable with the weight of the big gun straining on it, the giant
can. I'll get him!"

"On deck, Koku, quick!" gasped Ned. "Master's cannon may fall
into the sea."

"But the powder!" asked the big man, simply. "Master told me to
guard the powder. I stay here."

"No, I'll stay!" insisted Ned. "You are needed on deck, I'll
take your place here."

Koku stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, while the loosened
gun continued to thump and pound on the deck as though it would
burst through. Then it filtered through the dull brain of honest
Koku what was wanted.

"I go," he said, and he hurried up the companionway, while Ned,
eager to be with Tom, took up the less exciting work of guarding
the powder.

Once more, with the giant strength of Koku to aid in the work,
the task of lashing the gun again to the deck was undertaken. A
bight of steel cable was gotten around the breech, and then
passed to a big bitt, or stanchion, bolted to the deck. Koku,
working on the heaving deck, amid the hurricane, took a turn
around the brace.

There came a roll of the ship that threatened to send the gun
sliding against the stanchion, but Koku braced himself. His arms,
great bunches of muscles, strained and fairly cracked with the
strain. The wire rope seemed to give. Then, as the ship rolled
the other way, the strain eased. Koku, aided by the cable, and by
the leverage given by the several turns about the bitts, had held
the big gun.

"Quick!" cried Tom. "Now another rope so it can't roll the
opposite way, and we'll have her."

For a moment the ship was on a level keel, and taking advantage
of this, when the weight of the gun would be neutral, another
cable was passed around it. Then it was a comparatively easy
matter to put on more lashings until the giant cannon was once
more fast.

"Whew! But that was tough work!" exclaimed Tom, as he once more
entered the stateroom with Ned.

"It must have been," agreed his chum, who had been relieved at
the powder station by the giant.

"I thought it would surely go overboard," went on Tom. "Only
for Koku it would have. Those fellows couldn't hold it when the
ship rolled."

"How did it happen to get loose?" asked Ned.

"Oh, the cables frayed, I suppose. I'll take a look in the
morning. Say, but this is some storm!"

"Is the gun all right now?"

"Yes, it's fastened down like a mummy. It can't get loose
unless the whole deck comes with it. We can sleep in peace."

"Not much sleep in this blow, I guess," responded Ned.

But they did manage to get some rest by morning, at which time
the hurricane seemed to have blown itself out. The day saw the
sea gradually calm down, and the big cannon was made additionally
secure against a possible recurrence of the accident. But a few
days more and it would be safe at Colon.

Tom and Ned had gone on deck soon after breakfast to look at
the cannon. All about were pieces of the broken cables, that had
been cast aside when the new lashings were put on. Ned picked up
one end, remarking:

"These seem mighty strong. It's queer how they broke."

"Well, there was quite a weight upon them," spoke Tom.

Ned did not reply for a moment. Then, as he looked at another
piece of a severed cable, he exclaimed:

"Tom, the weight of your gun never broke these."

"What do you mean, Ned?"

"I mean that they were partly filed, or cut through--then the
storm and the pressure of the gun did the rest. Look!"

He held out the piece of wire rope. There, on the end, could be
seen several strands cleanly severed, as though a file or a hack-
saw had been used.

"By Jove!" murmured Tom. He looked about the deck. There was no
one near the big gun. "Ned," whispered his chum, "there's
something wrong here. It's more of that conspiracy to defeat my
aims. Don't say anything about this, and we'll keep our eyes
open. We'll do a bit of detective work."

"The scoundrels!" exclaimed Ned. "I wish we knew who they were.
General Waller isn't aboard, and what other of the officers has a
gun of his own that he would rather see accepted by the
government than yours?"

"None that I know of," replied Tom.

"General Waller might have hired someone to--"

"Don't go making any unwarranted charges," warned the young

"Or perhaps that German, Tom, might--"

"Hush!" cautioned Tom. "Here he comes now," and, as he spoke,
General von Brunderger came strolling along the deck.

"I am glad to see that the accident of last night had no
serious effects," he said, smiling.

"It was no accident!" burst out Ned.

"No accident? You surprise me. I thought--"

"Oh, Ned means that some of the cables look as though they had
been cut," hastily put in Tom, nudging his chum in the ribs as a
signal for him to keep quiet.

"The cables cut!" exclaimed the German, and his voice indicated
anxious solicitude.

"Or else filed," went on Tom easily, with a warning glance at
Ned. "But I dare say they were old cables, that had been used on
other work, and may have become frayed. Everything is safe now,
though. New cables were lashed on this morning."

"I am glad to hear it. It would be a--er--ah, a national
calamity to lose so valuable a gun, and the opening of the canal
so near at hand. I am glad that your invention is safe, Herr
Swift," and he smiled genially at Tom and Ned.

"What did you shut me off for?" asked Ned, when he and his chum
were alone in their stateroom again.

"Because I didn't want you to make any breaks before him,"
answered Tom.

"Then you suspect--"

"I suspect many things, Ned, but I'm not going to show my hand
until I'm ready. I'm going to watch and listen."

"And I'll be with you."

But no further accidents occurred. There were no more storms,
no attempt was made to meddle with Tom's powder, and in due
season the ship arrived at Colon, and after much labor the great
gun, its carriage, the shells and the powder were taken to the
barbette at the Gatun locks, designed to admit vessels from the
Caribbean Sea into Gatun Lake.

"And now for some more hard work," remarked Tom, as all the
needful stores were landed.



"Just a little farther over this way, Ned. That's better. Now
mark it there, and we'll have it clamped down."

"But can you get enough elevation here, Tom?"

"Oh, yes, I think so. Besides, I've added a few more inches to
the lift of the disappearing carriage, and it will send the gun
so much farther in the air. I think this will do. Where is Koku?"

"Here I be, Master."

"Just get hold of that small derrick, Koku, and lift up one of
the projectiles. I want to see if they come in the right place
for the breech before I set the hoisting apparatus permanently."

The giant was soon engaged in winding up the rope of an
improvised hoist that stood about in the position the permanent
one was to go. From the interior of the barbette, which was, in
effect, a bomb-proof structure, there was lifted one of the big
projectiles destined to be hurled from Tom Swift's giant cannon.

"Yes, I think that will do," decided the young inventor, as he
watched Koku. "Now, Mr. Damon, if you will kindly oversee this
part of the work, I'll see if we can't get that motor in better
shape. It didn't work worth a cent this morning."

"Bless my rubber coat, Tom, I'll do all I can to help you!"
declared the odd man.

"Massa Tom! Massa Tom!" called Eradicate.

"Yes, Rad. What is it?"

"Heah am dem chicken sandwiches, an' some hot coffee fo' yo'
all. I done knowed yo' alt wouldn't hab no time t' stop fo'
dinnah, so I done made yo' all up a snack."

"That's mighty good of you, Rad," spoke Tom, with a laugh. "I
was getting pretty hungry; but I didn't want to stop until I had
things moving in better shape. Come on, Ned, let's knock off for
a few minutes and take a bite. You, too, Mr. Damon."

As they sat about the place where the gun was being mounted,
munching sandwiches and drinking the coffee which the aged
colored man had so thoughtfully provided, Eradicate said, with a

"By gar! Dey can't git erlong wifout dish yeah coon, arter all!
Ha! ha! Dat cocoanut giant he mighty good when it comes t'
fastening big guns down so dey won't blow away, but when it comes
t' eatin' dey has t' depend on ole Eradicate! Ha! ha! I'se got
dat cocoanut giant beat all right!"

"He sure is jealous of Koku," remarked Ned, as Tom and Mr.
Damon smiled at the colored man.

"He certainly hit me in the right spot," declared Tom, as he
reached for another sandwich.

They had landed from the warship several days before, and from
then on there had been hard work and plenty of it. Tom was here,
there and everywhere, directing matters so that his gun would be
favorably placed.

Some preliminary work had been done before they arrived in the
way of preparing a place to mount the gun, and this work was now
proceeding. The officers of the ordnance department were in
actual charge, but they always deferred to Tom, since he had most
at stake.

"It will be some days before you can actually fire your gun;
will it not?" asked Ned of his chum, as they finished the lunch,
and prepared to resume work.

"Yes--a week at least, I expect. It is taking longer to set up
the carriage than I thought. But it will be an improvement over
the solid one we formerly used. That was fine, Rad," he concluded
as the colored man went back to the shack of which he had taken
possession for himself and his cooking operations. It adjoined
the quarters to which Tom, Ned, Mr. Damon and Koku had been

"Golly! I ain't so old yit but what I knows de stuff Massa Tom
laiks!" exclaimed the colored man, moving off with a chuckle.

Tom, though he had many suspicions about the cut cables that
had nearly been the cause of his gun sliding into the sea, had
learned nothing definite--nor had Ned.

The German officer, with his body servant, who seldom spoke,
had landed at Colon, and was proceeding to make himself at home
with the officers and men who were building the canal.
Occasionally he paid a visit to Tom and Ned, where they were
engaged about the big gun. He always seemed pleasant, and
interested in their labors, asking many question, but that was
all, and our hero began to feel that perhaps he was wrong in his

As for Ned, he veered uncertainly from one suspicion to
another. At one time he declared that von Brunderger and General
Waller were in a conspiracy to upset Tom's plans. Again he would
accuse the German alone, until Tom laughingly bade him attend
more to work and less to theories.

Slowly the work progressed. The gun was mounted after much
labor, and then arrangements began to be made for the test. A
series of shots were to be fired out to sea, and the proper
precautions were to be taken to prevent any ships from being

"Though if you intend to send a projectile thirty miles," said
one of the officers, "I'm afraid there may be some danger, after
all. Are you sure you have a range of thirty miles, Mr. Swift?"

"I have," answered Tom, calmly, "and with the increased
elevation that I am able to get here, it may exceed that."

The officer said nothing, but he looked at Tom in what our hero
thought was a peculiar manner.

A few days before the date set for the test one of the
sentinels, who had been detailed to keep curiosity-seekers away
from the giant cannon, approached Tom and said:

"There is a gentleman asking to see you, Mr. Swift."

"Who is it?" asked Tom, laying aside a pressure gauge he
intended attaching to the gun.

"He says his name is Peterson--Alec Peterson. Do you want to
see him?"

"Yes, let him come up," directed the young inventor. "Do you
hear that, Ned?" he called. "Our fortune-hunting friend is here."

"Maybe he's found that lost opal mine," suggested Ned.

"I hope he has, for dad's sake," went on Tom. "Hello, Mr.
Peterson!" he called, as he noticed the old prospector coming
along. "Have you had any luck?"

"I heard you were down here," said the many not answering the
question directly, "and as I had to run over from my island for
some supplies I thought I'd stop and see you. How are you?" and
he shook hands.

"Fine!" answered Tom. "Have you found the lost mine yet?"

Alec Peterson paused a moment. Then he said slowly:

"No, Tom, I haven't succeeded in locating the mine yet. But I--
I expect to any day now!" he added, hastily.



"Well, Mr. Peterson," remarked Tom, after a pause, "I'm sure I
hope you will succeed in your quest. You must have met
disappointment so far."

"I have, Tom. But I'm not going to give up. Can't you come over
and see me before you go back North?"

"I'll try. Just where is your island?"

"Off in that direction," responded the fortune-hunter, pointing
to the northeast. "It's a little farther from here than I thought
it was at first--about thirty miles. But I have a little second-
hand steam launch that my pardners and I use. I'll come for you,
take you over and bring you back any time you say."

"After my gun has been tested," said Tom, with a smile. "Better
stay and see it."

"No, I must get back to the island. I have some new information
that I am sure will enable me to locate the lost mine."

"Well, good-bye, and good luck to you," called Tom, as the
fortune-hunter started away.

"Do you think he'll ever find the opals, Tom?" asked Ned.

His chum shook his head.

"I don't believe so," he answered. "Alec has always been that
way--always visionary--always just about to be successful; but
never quite getting there."

"Then your father's ten thousand dollars will be lost?"

"Yes, I suppose so; but, in a way, dad can stand it. And if I
make good on this gun test, ten thousand dollars won't look very
big to me. I guess dad gave it to Alec from a sort of sentimental
feeling, anyhow."

"You mean because he saved you from the live wire?"

"That's it, Ned. It was a sort of reward, in a way, and I guess
dad won't be broken-hearted if Alec doesn't succeed. Only, of
course, he'll feel badly for Alec himself. Poor old man! he won't
be able to do much more prospecting. Well, Ned, let's get to work
on that ammunition hoist. It still jams a little on the ways, and
I want it to work smoothly. There's no use having a hitch--even a
small one--when the big bugs assemble to see how my cannon

"That's right, Tom. Well, start off, I'm with you."

The two youths labored for some time, being helped, of course,
by the workmen provided by the government, and some from the
steel concern.

There were many little details to look after, not the least of
which was the patrolling of the stretch of ocean over which the
great projectiles would soar in reaching the far-off targets at
which Tom had planned to shoot. No ships were to be allowed to
cross the thirty-mile mark while the firing was in progress. So,
also, the zone where the shots were expected to fall was to be

But at last all seemed in readiness. The gun had been tried
again and again on its carriage. The projectiles were all in
readiness, and the terribly powerful ammunition had been stored
below the gun in a bomb-proof chamber, ready to be hoisted out as

Because the gun had been fired so many times with a charge of
powder heavier than was ordinarily called for, and had stood the
strain well, Tom had no fear of standing reasonably close to it
to press the button of the battery. There would be no retreating
to the bombproof this time.

The German officer was occasionally seen about the place where
the gun was mounted, but he appeared to take only an ordinary
interest in it. Tom began to feel more than ever that perhaps his
suspicions were unfounded.

Some officials high in government affairs had arrived at Colon
in anticipation of the test, which, to Tom's delight, had
attracted more attention than he anticipated. At the same time he
was a bit nervous.

"Suppose it fails, Ned?" he said.

"Oh, it can't!" cried his chum. "Don't think about such a

Plans had been made for a ship to be stationed near the zone of
fire, to report by wireless the character of each shot, the
distance it traveled, and how near it came to the target. The
messages would be received at a station near the barbette, and at
once reported to Tom, so that he would know how the test was

"Well, today tells the tale!" exclaimed the young inventor, as
he got up one morning. "How's the weather, Ned?"

"Couldn't be better--clear as a bell, Tom."

"That's good. Well, let's have grub, and then go out and see
how my pet is."

"Oh, I guess nothing could happen, with Koku on guard."

"No, hardly. I'm going to keep him in the ammunition room until
after the test, too. I'm going to take no chances."

"That's the ticket!"

The gun was found all right, in its great tarpaulin cover, and
Tom had the latter taken off that he might go over every bit of
mechanism. He made a few slight changes, and then got ready for
the final trials.

On an improvised platform, not too near the giant cannon, had
gathered the ordnance board, the specially invited guests, a
number of officers and workers in the canal zone, and one or two
representatives of foreign governments. Von Brunderger was there,
but his "familiar," as Ned had come to call the stolid German
servant, was not present.

Tom took some little time to explain, modestly enough, the
working of his gun. A number of questions were asked, and then it
was announced that the first shot, with only a practice charge of
powder, would be fired.

"Careful with that projectile now. That's it, slip it in
carefully. A little farther forward. That's better. Now the
powder--Koku, are you down there?" and Tom called down the tube
into the ammunition chamber.

"Me here, Master," was the reply.

"All right, send up a practice load."

Slowly the powerful explosive came up on the electric hoist. It
was placed in the firing chamber and the breech dosed.

"Now, gentlemen," said Tom, "this is not a shot for distance.
It is merely to try the gun and get it warmed up, so to speak,
for the real tests that will follow. All ready?"

"All ready!" answered Ned, who was acting as chief assistant.

"Here she goes!" cried Tom, and he pressed the button.

Many were astonished by the great report, but Tom and the
others, who were used to the service charges, hardly noticed this
one. Yet when the wireless report came in, giving the range as
over fourteen thousand yards, there was a gasp of surprise.

"Over eight miles!" declared one grizzled officer; "and that
with only a practice charge. What will happen when he puts in a
full one?'

"I don't know," answered a friend.

Tom soon showed them. Quickly he called for another projectile,
and it was inserted in the gun. Then the powder began to come up
the hoist. Meanwhile the young inventor had assured himself that
the gun was all right. Not a part had been strained.

This time, when Tom pressed the button there was such a
tremendous concussion that several, who were not prepared for it,
were knocked back against their neighbors or sent toppling off
their chairs or benches. And as for the report, it was so
deafening that for a long time after it many could not hear well.

But Tom, and those who knew the awful power of the big cannon,
wore specially prepared eardrum protectors, that served to reduce
the shock.

"What is it?" called Tom to the wireless operator, who was
receiving the range distance from the marking ship.

"A little less than twenty-nine miles."

"We must do better than that," said Tom. "I'll use more powder,
and try one of the newer shells. I'll elevate the gun a trifle,

Again came that terrific report, that trembling of the ground,
that concussion, that blast of air as it rushed in to fill the
vacuum caused, and then the vibrating echoes.

"I think you must have gone the limit this time, Tom!" yelled
Ned, as he turned on the compressed air to blow the powder fumes
and unconsumed bits of explosive from the gun tube.

"Possibly," admitted Tom. "Here comes the report." The wireless
operator waved a slip of paper.

"Thirty-one miles!" he announced.

"Hurray!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my telescope! The longest
shot on record!"

"I believe it is," admitted the chief of the ordnance
department. "I congratulate you, Mr. Swift."

"I think I can do better than that," declared Tom, after
looking at the various recording gauges, and noting the elevation
of the gun. "I think I can get a little flatter trajectory, and
that will give a greater distance. I'm going to try."

"Does that mean more powder, Tom?" asked Ned.

"Yes, and the heaviest shell we have--the one with the bursting
charge. I'll fire that, and see what happens. Tell the zone-ship
to be on the lookout," he said to the wireless operator, giving a
brief statement of what he was about to attempt.

"Isn't it a risk, Tom?" his chum asked.

"Well, not so much. I'm sure my cannon will stand it. Come on
now, help me depress the muzzle just a trifle," and by means of
the electric current the big gun was raised at the breech a few

As is well known, cannon shots do not go in straight lines.
They leave the muzzle, curve upward and come down on another
curve. It is this curve described by the projectile that is
called the trajectory. The upward curve, as you all know, is
caused by the force of the powder, and the downward by the force
of gravitation acting on the shot as soon as it reaches its
zenith. Were it not for this force the projectiles could be fired
in straight lines. But, as it is, the cannon has to be elevated
to send the shot up a bit, or it would fall short of its mark.

Consequently, the flatter the trajectory the farther it will
go. Tom's object, then, was to flatten the trajectory, by
lowering the muzzle of the gun, in order to attain greater

"If this doesn't do the trick, we'll try it with the muzzle a
bit lower, and with a trifle more powder," he said to Ned, as he
was about to fire.

The young inventor was not a little nervous as he prepared to
press the button this time. It was a heavier charge than any used
that day, though the same quantity had been fired on other
occasions with safety. But he was not going to hesitate.

Coincident with the pressure of Tom's fingers there seemed to
be a veritable earthquake. The ground swayed and rocked, and a
number of the spectators staggered back. It was like the blast of
a hundred thunderbolts. The gun shook as it recoiled from the
shock, but the wonderful disappearing carriage, fitted with
coiled, pneumatic and hydrostatic buffers, stood the strain.

Following the awful report, the terrific recoil and the howl of
the wind as it rushed into the vacuum created, there was an
intense silence. The projectile had been seen by some as a dark
speck, rushing through the air like a meteor. Then the wireless
operator could be seen writing down a message, the telephone-like
receivers clamped over his ears.

"Something happened, all right!" he called aloud. "That shot
hit something."

"Not one of the ships!" cried Tom, aghast.

"I don't know. There seems to be some difficulty in
transmitting. Wait--I'm getting it: now."

As he ceased speaking there came from underneath the great gun
the sound of confused shouts. Tom and Ned recognized Koku's voice

"No--no--you can't come in here! Master said no one was to come

"What is it, Koku?" yelled Tom, springing to the speaking tube
connecting with the powder magazine, at the same time keeping an
eye on the wireless operator. Tom was torn between two anxieties.

"Someone here, Master!" cried the giant. "Him try to fix
powder. Ah, I fix you!" and with a savage snarl the giant, in the
concrete chamber below, could be heard to attack someone who
cried out gutturally in German:

"Help! Help! Help!"

"Come on, Ned!" cried Tom, making a dash for the stairs that
led into the magazine. There was confusion all about, but through
it all the wireless operator continued to write down the message
coming to him through space.

"What is it, Koku? What is it?" cried Tom, plunging down into
the little chamber.

As he reached it, a door leading to the outer air flew open,
and out rushed a man, badly torn as to his clothes, and scratched
and bleeding as to his face. On he ran, across the space back of
the barbette, toward the lower tier of seats that had been
erected for the spectators.

"It's von Brunderger's servant!" gasped Ned, recognizing the

"What did he do, Koku?" demanded the young inventor.

"Him sneak in here--have some of that stuff you call 'dope.' I
sent up powder, and I come back here to see him try to put some
dope in Master's ammunition."

"The scoundrel!" cried Tom. "They're trying to break me, even
at the last minute! Come on, Ned."

They raced outside to behold a curious sight. Straight toward
von Brunderger rushed the man as if in a frenzy of fear. He
called out something in German to his master, and the latter's
face went first red, then white. He was observed to look about
quickly, as though in alarm, and then, with a shout at his
servant, the German officer rushed from the stand, and the two
disappeared in the direction of the barracks.

"What does it mean?" cried Ned.

"Give it up," answered Tom, "except that Koku spoiled their
trick, whatever it was. It looks as if this was the end of it,
and that the mystery has been cleared up."

"Mr. Swift! Where's Mr. Swift?" shouted the wireless operator.
"Where are you?"

"Yes; what is it?" demanded Tom, so excited that he hardly knew
what he was doing.

"The longest shot on record!" cried the man. "Thirty-three
miles, and it struck, exploded, and blew the top off a mountain
on an island out there!" and he pointed across the sun-lit sea.



There was a silence after the inspiring words of the operator,
and then it seemed that everyone began to talk at once. The
record-breaking shot, the effect of it and the struggle that had
taken place in the powder room, together with the flight of von
Brunderger and his servant, gave many subjects for excited

"I've got to get at the bottom of this!" cried Tom, making his
way through the press of officials to where the wireless operator
stood. "Just repeat that," requested Tom, and they all gave place
for him, waiting for the answer.

The operator read the message again.

"Thirty-three miles!" murmured Tom. "That is better than I
dared to hope. But what's that about blowing the top off an

"That's what you did, with that explosive shell, Mr. Swift. The
operator on the firing-zone ship saw the top fly off when the
shell struck. The ship was about half a mile away, and when they
heard that shell coming the officers thought it was all up with
them. But, instead, it passed over them and demolished the top of
the mountain.

"Anybody hurt?" asked Tom, anxiously.

"No, it was an uninhabited island. But you have made the record
shot, all right. It went farther than any of the others."

"Then I suppose I ought to be satisfied," remarked Tom, with a

"What was that disturbance, Mr. Swift?" asked the chief
ordnance officer, coming forward.

"I don't understand it myself," replied the young inventor. "It
appeared that someone went into the ammunition room, and Koku, my
giant servant, attacked him."

"As he had a right to do. But who was the intruder?"

"Herr von Brunderger's man."

"Ha! That German officer's! Where is he, he must explain this."

But Herr von Brunderger was not to be found, nor was his man in
evidence. They had fled, and when a search was made of their
rooms, damaging evidence was found. Before a board of
investigating officers Koku told his story, after the gun tests
had been declared off for the day, they having been most

The German officer's servant, it appeared, had managed to gain
entrance to the ammunition chamber by means of a false key to the
outer door. There were two entrances, the other being from the
top of the platform where the cannon rested. Koku had seen him
about to throw something into one of the ammunition cases, and
had grappled with him. There was a fight, and, in spite of the
giant's strength, the man had slipped away, leaving part of his
garments in the grasp of Koku.

An investigation of some of the powder showed that it had been
covered with a chemical that would have made it explode
prematurely when placed in the gun. It would probably have
wrecked the cannon by blowing out the breech block, and might
have done serious damage to life as well as property.

"But what was the object?" asked Ned.

"To destroy Tom's gun," declared Mr. Damon.

"Why should von Brunderger want to do that?"

They found the answer among his papers. He had been a German
officer of high rank, but had been dismissed from the secret
service of his country for bad conduct. Then, it appeared, he
thought of the plan of doing some damage to a foreign country in
order to get back in the good graces of his Fatherland.

He forged documents of introduction and authority, and was
received with courtesy by the United States officials. In some
way he heard of Tom's gun, and that it was likely to be so
successful that it would be adopted by the United States
government. This he wanted to prevent, and he went to great
lengths to accomplish this. It was he, or an agent of his, who
forged the letter of invitation to General Waller, and who first
tried to spoil Tom's test by doping the powder through Koku.

Later he tried other means, sending a midnight visitor to Tom's
house and even going to the length of filing the cables in the
storm, so the gun would roll off the warship into the sea. All
this was found set down in his papers, for he kept a record of
what he had done in order to prove his case to his own
government. It was his servant who tried to get near the gun
while it was being cast.

That he would be restored to favor had he succeeded, was an
open question, though with Germany's friendliness toward the
United States it is probable that his acts would have been
repudiated. But he was desperate.

Failing in many attempts he resolved on a last one. He sent his
servant to the ammunition room to "dope" the powder, hoping that,
at the next shot, the gun would be mined. Perhaps he hoped to
disable Tom. But the plot failed, and the conspirators escaped.
They were never heard of again, probably leaving Panama under
assumed names and in disguise.

"Well, that explains the mystery," said Tom to Ned a few days
later. "I guess we won't have to worry any more."

"No, and I'm sorry I suspected General Waller."

"Oh, well, he'll never know it, so no harm is done. Oh, but I'm
glad this is over. It has gotten on my nerves."

"I should say so," agreed Ned.

"Bless my pillow sham!" cried Mr. Damon. "I think I can get a
good night's sleep now. So they have formally accepted your giant
cannon, Tom?"

"Yes. The last tests I gave them, showing how easily it could
be manipulated, convinced them. It will be one of the official
defense guns of the Panama Canal."

"Good! I congratulate you, my boy!" cried the odd man. "And
now, bless my postage stamp, let's get back to the United

"Before we go," suggested Ned, "let's go take a look at that
island from which Tom blew the top. It must be quite a sight--and
thirty-three miles away! We can get a launch and go out."

But there was no need. That same day Alec Peterson came to
Colon inquiring for Tom. His face showed a new delight.

"Why," cried Tom, "you look as though you had found your opal

"I have!" exclaimed the fortune-hunter. "Or, rather, Tom, I
think I have you to thank for finding it for me."

"Me find it?"

"Yes. Did you hear about the top of the island-mountain you
blew to pieces?"

"We did, but--"

"That was my island!" exclaimed Mr. Peterson. "The mine was in
that mountain, but an earthquake had covered it. I should never
have found it but for you. That shot you accidentally fired
ripped the mountain apart. My men and I were fortunately at the
base of it then, but we sure thought our time had come when that
shell struck. It went right over our heads. But it did the
business, all right, and opened up the old mine. Tom, your father
won't lose his money, we'll all be rich. Oh, that was a lucky
shot! I knew it was your cannon that did it."

"I'm glad of it!" answered the young inventor, heartily. "Glad
for your sake, Mr. Peterson."

"You must come and see the mine--your mine, Tom, for it never
would have been rediscovered had it not been for your giant
cannon, that made the longest shot on record, so I'm told."

"We will come, Mr. Peterson, just as soon as I close up matters

It did not take Tom long to do this. His type of cannon was
formally accepted as a defense for the Panama Canal, and he
received a fine contract to allow that type to be used by the
government. His powder and projectiles, too, were adopted.

Then, one day, he and Ned, with Koku and Mr. Damon, visited the
scene of the great shot. As Mr. Peterson had said, the whole top
of the mountain had been blown off by the explosive shell,
opening up the old mine. While it was not quite as rich as Mr.
Peterson had glowingly painted, still there was a fortune in it,
and Mr. Swift got back a substantial sum for his investment.

"And now for the good old U. S. A.!" cried Tom, as they got
ready to go back home. "I'm going to take a long rest, and the
only thing I'm going to invent for the next six months is a new
potato slicer." But whether Tom kept his words can be learned by
reading the next volume of this series.

"Bless my hand towel!" cried Mr. Damon. "I think you are
entitled to a rest, Tom."

"That's what I say," agreed Ned.

"I'll take care ob him--I'll take care ob Massa Tom," put in
Eradicate, as he cast a quick look at Koku. "Giants am all right
fo' cannon wuk, but when it comes t' comforts Massa Tom gwine t'
'pend on ole 'Radicate; ain't yo' all, Massa Tom?"

"I guess so, Rad!" exclaimed the young inventor, with a laugh.
"Is dinner ready?"

"It suah am, Massa Tom, an' I 'specially made some oh dat
fricasseed chicken yo' all does admire so much. Plenty of it,
too, Massa Tom."

"That's good, Rad," put in Ned. "For we'll all be hungry after
that trip to the island. That sure was a great shot Tom--thirty-
three miles!"

"Yes, it went farther than I thought it would," replied Tom.
And now, as they are taking a closing meal at Panama, ready to
return to the United States, we will take leave of Tom Swift and
his friends.

End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of Tom Swift And His Giant Cannon


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