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Page 57
"We'll get down all right if something else doesn't happen," he
said to Jackson, with grim humor.
"Well, let's hope that it won't," said the mechanic. "We're a
good distance up yet."
They were, as a matter of fact, for the explosion, or whatever
had happened to the craft, had occurred at a height of over two
miles, and they at once began falling. As yet Tom Swift was
unaware of the exact nature of the accident or its cause. All he
knew was that there had been a big noise and that the engine had
stopped working. He could not see the silencer from where he sat,
as it was constructed on the underside of the motor, but he had
an idea that the same sort of mishap had occurred as on the
occasion when the test machine had sailed through the roof of his
workshop.
"But, luckily, this wasn't as bad," mused Tom. "Anyhow the
motor is out of business."
And this was very evident. The young inventor had tried to
start the apparatus after its stoppage by the explosion, but it
had not responded to his efforts, and then he had desisted,
fearing to cause some further damage, or, perhaps, endanger his
own life and that of Jackson.
Down, down swept Silent Sam--doubly silent now, and Tom began
looking about for a good place to make a landing. This was
nothing new for either him or his mechanician, and they accepted
the outcome as a matter of course.
"Not a very lively place down there," remarked Jackson, as he
looked over the side of the cockpit.
"If we have to depend for help on any one down there, I guess
we'll be a long time waiting," agreed Tom. They were about to
land in a very lonely spot. It was one he had never before
visited, though he knew it could not be much more than twenty
miles from his own home, as they had not flown much farther than
that distance.
But, somehow or other, Tom had not visited this particular
section, and knew nothing of it. He saw below him, as Jackson had
seen, a lonely stretch of country--a big field, once a wood-lot,
evidently, as scattered about were some stumps and some second
growth trees. There were also a number of evergreens--Christmas
trees Jackson called them. And this was the only open place for
miles, the surrounding country being a densely wooded one. There
did not appear to be a house or other building in sight where
they might seek help.
"But maybe we can make the repairs ourselves and keep on," the
lad thought.
With practiced eye he picked out a smooth, grassy, level spot,
in the midst of scattered evergreen trees, and there Tom Swift
skillfully brought his Air Scout to rest. With a gentle thud the
rubber-tired wheels struck the Earth, rolled along a little
distance, and then called to a stop.
Hardly had the aeroplane ceased moving when Tom and his
companion jumped out and began eagerly to examine the machinery
to see the extent of damage.
"I thought so!" Tom exclaimed. "The silencer cracked under the
strain. Those exhaust gases have more pressure that I believed
possible. I increased the margin of safety on this muffler, too.
But she's cracked, and I can't use the machine until I put on a
new one. Good thing I didn't ask for a government inspection
until after this trial flight."
"That's so," agreed Jackson. "But can't you patch it up, or go
on without a muffler, so we can get back home?"
"I'm afraid not," Tom answered. "You see I removed all the old
exhaust pipe fittings when I put on my new silencer. Now if I
took off my attachment there wouldn't be anything to carry off
the discharged gases, and they'd form a regular cloud about us.
We couldn't stand it without gas masks, such as they use in the
trenches, and we haven't any of those with us."
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