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Page 24
"Do you admit that you're a sneak and a coward?" asked
Tom, "rubbing it in."
"Yes, yes! Oh, please let me down!"
"Shall we?" asked Tom of Mr. Sharp.
"Yes," replied the balloonist. "We can afford to lose the
rope and anchor for the sake of turning the tables. Cut the
cable."
Tom saw what was intended. Using a little hatchet, he
severed the rope with a single blow. With a crash that could
be heard up in the air where the Red Cloud hovered, the rear
wheels of the auto dropped to the ground. Then came two loud
reports.
"Both tires busted!" commented Mr. Sharp dryly, and Tom,
looking down, saw the trio of lads ruefully contemplating
the collapsed rubber of the rear wheels. The tables had been
effectually turned on Andy Foger. His auto was disabled, and
the airship, with a graceful sweep, mounted higher and
higher, continuing on its way to the coast.
Chapter Seven
Mr. Damon Will Go
"Well, I guess they've had their lesson," remarked Tom, as
he took an observation through the telescope and saw Andy
and his cronies hard at work trying to repair the ruptured
tires. "That certainly was a corking good trick."
"Yes," admitted Mr. Sharp modestly. "I once did something
similar, only it was a horse and wagon instead of an auto.
But let's try for another speed record. The conditions are
just right."
They arrived at the coast much sooner than they had dared
to hope, the Red Cloud proving herself a veritable wonder.
The remainder of that day, and part of the next, was spent
in working on the submarine.
"We'll launch her day after to-morrow," declared Mr. Swift
enthusiastically. "Then to see whether my calculations are
right or wrong."
"It won't be your fault if it doesn't work," said his son.
"You certainly have done your best."
"And so have you and Mr. Sharp and the others, for that
matter. Well, I have no doubt but that everything will be
all right, Tom."
"There!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp the next morning, as he was
adjusting a certain gage. "I knew I'd forget something. That
special brand of lubricating oil. I meant to bring it from
Shopton, and I didn't."
"Maybe I can get it in Atlantis," suggested Tom, naming
the coast city nearest to them. "I'll take a walk over. It
isn't far."
"Will you? I'll be glad to have you," resumed the
balloonist. "A gallon will be all we'll need."
Tom was soon on his way. He had to walk, as the roads were
too poor to permit him to use the motor-cycle, and the
airship attracted too much attention to use on a short trip.
He was strolling along, when from the other side of a row of
sand dunes, that lined the uncertain road to Atlantis, he
heard some one speaking. At first the tones were not
distinct, but as the lad drew nearer to the voice he heard
an exclamation.
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