Part 2 (2/2)
As Tom turned to go into the house, the unsettled look still on his face, some one hailed him.
”I say, Tom. h.e.l.lo! Wait a minute! I've got something to show you!”
”Oh, h.e.l.lo, Ned Newton!” Called back the young inventor. ”Well, if it's Liberty Bonds, you don't need to show me any, for dad and I will buy all we can without seeing them.”
”I know that, Tom, and it was a dandy subscription you gave me. I didn't come about that, though I may be around the next time Uncle Sam wants the people to dig down in their socks. This is something different,” and Ned Newton, a young banker of Shopton and a lifelong friend of Tom's, drew a paper from his pocket as he advanced across the lawn.
”There, Tom Swift!” he cried, flipping out an ill.u.s.trated page, evidently from some ill.u.s.trated newspaper. ”There's the very latest from the other side. A London banker friend of mine sent it to me, and it got past the censor all right. It's the first authentic photograph of the newest and biggest British tank. Isn't that a wonder?”
Ned held up the paper which had in it a fullpage photograph of a monster tank--those weird machines traveling on endless steel belts of caterpillar construction, armored, riveted and plated, with machine guns bristling here and there.
”Isn't that great, Tom? Can you beat it? It's the most wonderful machine of the age, even counting some of yours. Can you beat it?”
Tom took the paper indifferently, and his manner surprised his chum.
”Well, what's the matter, Tom?” asked Ned. ”Don't you think that great?
Why don't you say something? You don't mean to say you've seen that picture before?”
”No, Ned.”
”Then what's the matter with you? Isn't that wonderful?”
Chapter III
Ned is Worried
Tom Swift did not answer for several seconds. He stood holding the paper Ned had given him, the sun slanting on the picture of the big British tank. But the young inventor did not appear to see it. Instead, his eyes were as though contemplating something afar off.
”Well, this gets me!” cried Ned, his voice showing impatience. ”Here I go and get a picture of the latest machine the British armies are smas.h.i.+ng up the Boches with, and bring it to you fresh from the mail--I even quit my Liberty Bond business to do it, and I know some dandy prospects, too--and here you look at it like a--like a fis.h.!.+” burst out Ned.
”Say, old man, I guess that's right!” admitted Tom. ”I wasn't thinking about it, to tell you the truth.”
”Why not?” Ned demanded. ”Isn't it great, Tom? Did you ever see anything like it?”
”Yes.”
”You did?” Cried Ned, in surprise. ”Where? Say, Tom Swift, are you keeping something from me?”
”I mean no, Ned. I never have seen a British tank.”
”Well, did you ever see a picture like this before?” Ned persisted.
”No, not exactly like that But--”
”Well, what do you think of it?” cried the young banker, who was giving much of his time to selling bonds for the Government. ”Isn't it great?”
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