Part 4 (2/2)

He walked slowly along, murmuring to himself.

”Wa'al, I might better have taken one of them wagons at th' depot,”

he said, ”than t' try t' walk. It's quite a stretch out t' Tom Swift's house. I hope I find him home.”

He trudged on, and, a little later, his gaze was attracted by a large shed, in the rear of a white house the pretentious appearance of which indicated that persons of wealth owned it.

”I guess that must be the place,” he remarked. ”That shed is big enough to hold the airs.h.i.+p. Now to present myself.”

As he walked up the front path of the house, he was met by one of the gardeners, who was raking up the leaves.

”Is this the airs.h.i.+p place?” asked the miner.

”Yes, that's where the young master is making his triplane,”

answered the man.

”Is he in?”

”Yes, I guess so. You can walk right back to the shed.”

The miner did so. Through the open door of the building he had a glimpse of big stretches of wings, propellers, rudders, and some machinery.

”That's it,” he murmured, ”though it looks some different than I remembered it. However, maybe Tom's changed it about. I wonder where he is?”

As he spoke a lad came from the shed to meet him--a lad on whose face there was a look of suspicion.

”What do you want?” he demanded.

”I'm lookin' for Tom Swift,” was the simple reply. ”But I take it you're one of his partners in this airs.h.i.+p business. I guess he must have told you about me. I'm Abe Abercrombie, the miner, and I've come to show him the way to that valley of gold in Alaska.”

At the mention of Tom Swift's name, Andy Foger, for it was he, had started to utter a denial. But, at the next words of the miner, and as Mr. Abercrombie mentioned ”gold” and ”Alaska,” there came a cunning look over Andy's face.

”Tom Swift isn't here just now,” he said, wondering how he could turn to advantage the unexpected visit, and the impending information that the guileless old man was about to give under the mistaken idea that Andy was Tom's friend.

”That's all right, I reckon he'll be along presently. You'll do just as well, I reckon. You're in partners.h.i.+p with him, I take it. So this is the place where he makes his airs.h.i.+ps, eh? It's a big one,”

and Mr. Abercrombie looked in at the odd triplane of Andy's--for the airs.h.i.+p was almost finished.

”But it'll need to be big if we're to go to Alaska in it,” went on the miner. ”It's quite a journey t' th' valley where th' gold is. No way t' get t' it except by an airs.h.i.+p. An' here I be an' ready to start, I've brought th' map of th' place, jest as I promised. Here it is, better take good care of it. Now, let's talk business,” and the miner, having guilelessly handed Andy Foger a folded parchment, sat down on a box at the door of the airs.h.i.+p shed, and placed his heavy valise on the ground beside him.

”What's this?” asked the bully, wondering whether he had heard aright.

”It's the map of th' valley of gold--directions how t' git there, an' all that. I guess it's plain enough. Now, when can we start?”

Andy did not know what to say. Fate had, most unexpectedly, placed in his hands a valuable paper. The miner had made a mistake. Andy's house was on the same road as was Tom's and, seeing the airs.h.i.+p shed, had deceived the aged man. He had not expected to find two airs.h.i.+p manufactories in the same village.

”The map of the valley of gold,” murmured Andy, as he put it in his pocket.

”Yes, jest as I told Tom about when I met him out West. I said I'd bring it with me, an' I did. When will Tom be back? He never spoke of you, though I reckoned he'd have to have some help in makin' his airs.h.i.+ps. Where is he?”

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