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TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS
OR
Battling with Flames from the Air

By
VICTOR APPLETON




CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I A BAD PLACE FOR A FIRE

II NO USE OF LIVING!

III TOM'S NEW IDEA

IV AN EXPERIMENT

V THE EXPLOSION

VI TOM IS WORRIED

VII A FORCED LANDING

VIII STRANGE TALK

IX SUSPICIONS

X ANOTHER ATTEMPT

XI THE BLAZING TREE

XII TOM IS LONESOME

XIII A SUCCESSFUL TEST

XIV OUT OF THE CLOUDS

XV COALS OF FIRE

XVI VIOLENT THREATS

XVII A TOWN BLAZE

XVIII FINISHING TOUCHES

XIX ON THE TRAIL

XX A HEAVY LOAD

XXI THE LIGHT IN THE SKY

XXII TRAPPED

XXIII TO THE RESCUE

XXIV A STRANGE DISCOVERY

XXV THE LIGHT OF DAY




TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS



CHAPTER I

A BAD PLACE FOR A FIRE


"IMPOSSIBLE, Ned! It can't be as much as that!"

"Well, you can prove the additions yourself, Tom, on one of the
adding machines. I've been over 'em twice, and get the same
result each time. There are the figures. They say figures don't
lie, though it doesn't follow that the opposite is true, for
those who do not stick closely to the truth do, sometimes,
figure. But there you have it; your financial statement for the
year," and Ned Newton, business manager for Tom Swift, the
talented young inventor, shoved a mass of papers across the table
to his friend and chum, as well as employer.

"It doesn't seem possible, Ned, that we have made as much as
that this past year. And this, as I understand it, doesn't
include what was taken from the wreck of the Pandora?"

Tom Swift looked questioningly at Ned Newton, who shook his
head in answer.

"You really didn't get anything to speak of out of your
undersea search, Tom," replied the young financial manager, "so I
didn't include it. But there's enough without that."

"I should say so!" exclaimed Tom. "Whew!" he whistled, "I
didn't think I was worth that much."

"Well, you've earned it, every cent, with the inventions of
yourself and your father."

"And I might add that we wouldn't have half we earn if it
wasn't for the shrewd way you look after us, Ned," said Tom, with
a warm smile at his friend. "I appreciate the way you manage our
affairs; for, though I have had some pretty good luck with my
searchlight, wizard camera, war tank and other contraptions, I
never would have been able to save any of the money they brought
in if it hadn't been for you."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," remarked Ned modestly.

"I appreciate that," began Tom Swift. "And I want to say,
Ned--"

But Tom did not say what he had started to. He broke off
suddenly, and seemed to be listening to some sound outside the
room of his home where he and his financial and business manager
were going over the year's statement and accounting.

Ned, too, in spite of the fact that he had been busy going over
figures, adding up long columns, checking statements, and giving
the results to Tom, had been aware, in the last five minutes, of
an ever-growing tumult in the street. At first it had been no
more than the passage along the thoroughfare of an unusual number
of pedestrians. Ned had accounted for it at first by the theory
that some moving picture theater had finished the first
performance and the people were hurrying home.

But after he had finished his financial labors and had handed
Tom the first of a series of statements to look over, the young
financial expert began to realize that there was no moving
picture house near Tom's home. Consequently the passing throngs
could not be accounted for in that way.

Yet the tumult of feet grew in the highway outside. Ned had
begun to wonder if there had been an attempted burglary, a fight,
or something like that, calling for police action, which had
gathered an unusual throng that warm, spring evening.

And then had come Tom's interruption of himself when he broke
off in the middle of a sentence to listen intently.

"What is it?" asked Ned.

"I thought I heard Rad or Koku moving around out there,"
murmured Tom. "It may be that my father is not feeling well and
wants to speak to me or that some one may have telephoned. I told
them not to disturb me while you and I were going over the
accounts. But if it is something of importance--"

Again Tom paused, for distinctly now in addition to the ever-
increasing sounds in the streets could be heard a shuffling and
talking in the hall just outside the door.

"G'wan 'way from heah now!" cried the voice of a colored man.

"It is Rad!" exclaimed Tom, meaning thereby Eradicate Sampson,
an aged but faithful colored servant. And then the voice of Rad,
as he was most often called, went on with:

"G'wan 'way! I'll tell Massa Tom!"

"Me tell! Big thing! Best for big man tell!" broke in another
voice; a deep, booming voice that could only proceed from a
powerfully built man.

"Koku!" exclaimed Tom, with a half comical look at Ned. "He and
Rad are at it again!"

Koku was a giant, literally, and he had attached himself to Tom
when the latter had made one of many perilous trips. So eager
were Eradicate and Koku to serve the young inventor that
frequently there were more or less good-natured clashes between
them to see who would have the honor.

The discussion and scuffle in the hall at length grew so
insistent that Tom, fearing the aged colored man might
accidentally be hurt by the giant Koku, opened the door. There
stood the two, each endeavoring to push away the other that the
victor might, it appeared, knock on the door. Of course Rad was
no match for Koku, but the giant, mindful of his great strength,
was not using all of it.

"Here! what does this mean?" cried Tom, rather more sternly
than he really meant. He had to pretend to be stern at times with
his old colored helper and the impulsive and powerful giant.
"What are you cutting up for outside my door when I told you I
must be quiet with Mr. Newton?"

"No can be quiet!" declared the giant. "Too much noise in
street--big crowds--much big!"

He spoke an English of his own, did Koku.

"What are the crowds doing?" asked Ned. "I thought we'd been
hearing an ever increasing tumult, Tom," he said to the young
inventor.

"Big crowds--'um go to see big--"

"Heah! Let me tell Massa Tom!" pleaded Rad. Poor Rad! He was
getting old and could not perform the services that once he had
so readily and efficiently done. Now he was eager to help Tom in
such small measure as carrying him a message. So it was with a
feeling of sadness that Tom heard the old man say again,
pleadingly:

"Let me tell him, Koku! I know all 'bout it! Let me tell Massa
Tom whut it am, an'--"

"Well, go ahead and tell me!" burst out Tom, with a good-
natured laugh. "Don't keep me in suspense. If there's anything
going on--"

He did not finish the sentence. It was evident that something
of moment was going on, for the crowds in the street were now
running instead of walking, and voices could be heard calling
back and forth such exclamations as:

"Where is it?"

"Must be a big one

"And with this wind it'll be worse!"

Tom glanced at Ned and then at the two servants.

"Has anything happened?" asked the young inventor.

"Dey's a big fire, Massa Tom!" exploded Rad.

"Heap big blaze!" added Koku.

At the same time, out in the street high and clear, the cry
rang out:

"Fire! Fire!"

"Is it any of our buildings?" exclaimed Tom, in his excitement
catching hold of the giant's arm.

"No, it's quite a way off, on de odder side of town," answered
the colored man. "But we t'ought we'd better come an' tell yo',
an'--"

"Yes! Yes! I'm glad you did, Rad. It was perfectly right for
you to tell me! I wish you'd done it sooner, though! Come on,
Ned! Let's go to the blaze! We can finish looking over the
figures another time. Is my father all right, Rad?"

"Yes, suh, Massa Tom, he's done sleepin' good."

"Then don't disturb him. Mr. Newton and I will go to the fire.
I'm glad it isn't here," and Tom looked from a side window out on
many shops that were not a great distance from the house; shops
where he and his father had perfected many inventions.

The buildings had grown up around the old Swift homestead,
which, now that so much industry surrounded it, was not the most
pleasant place to live in. Tom and his father only made this
their stopping place in winter. In the summer they dwelt in a
quiet cottage far removed from the scenes of their industry.

"We'll take the electric runabout, Ned," remarked Tom, as he
caught up a hat from the rack, an example followed by his friend.
Together the young inventor and the financial manager hurried out
to the garage, where Tom soon had in operation a small electric
automobile, that, more than once, had proved its claim to being
the "speediest car on the road."

As they turned out of the driveway into the street they became
aware of great crowds making their way toward a glow of sinister
red light showing in the eastern sky.

"Some blaze!" exclaimed Tom, as he turned on more power.

"You said it!" ejaculated Ned. "Must be a general alarm," he
added, as they caught the sound from the next street of
additional apparatus hurrying to the fire.

"Well, I'm glad it isn't on our side of town," remarked Tom, as
he looked back at the peaceful gloom surrounding and covering his
own home and work buildings.

"Where do you reckon it is?" asked Ned, as they sped onward.

"Hard to say," remarked the young inventor, as he steered to
one side to pass a powerful imported automobile which, however,
did not have the speed of the electric runabout. "A fire at night
is always deceiving as to direction. But we can locate it when we
get to the top of the hill."

Shopton, the suburb of the town where Tom lived, was named so
because of the many shops that had been erected by the industry
of the young inventor and his father. In fact the town was named
Shopton though of late there had been an effort to change the
name of the strictly residential section, which lay over the hill
toward the river.

Tom's car shot up the slope with scarcely any slackening of
speed, and, as he passed a group of men and boys running onward,
Tom shouted:

"Where is it?"

"The fireworks factory!" was the answer.

"Fireworks factory!" cried Ned. "Bad place for a fire!"

"I should say so!" exclaimed Tom.

The chums had become gradually aware of the gale that was
blowing, and, as they reached the summit of the hill and caught
sight of the burning factory, they saw the flames being swept far
out from it and toward a collection of houses on the other side
of a vacant lot that separated the fireworks industrial plant
from the dwellings. As Tom Swift glimpsed the fire, noted its
proportions and the fierceness of the flames, and saw which way
the wind was blowing them, he turned on the power to the utmost.

"What are you doing, Tom?" yelled Ned.

"I'm going down there!" cried Tom. "That place is likely to
explode any minute!"

"Then why go closer?" gasped Ned, for his breath was almost
taken away by the speed of the car, and he had to hold his hat to
keep it from blowing away. "Why don't you play safe?"

"Don't you understand?" shouted Tom in his chum's ear. "The
wind is blowing the fire right toward those houses! Mary Nestor
lives in one of them!"

"Oh--Mary Nestor!" exclaimed Ned. Then he understood--Mary and
Tom were engaged to be married.

"They may be all right," Tom went on. "I can't be sure from
this distance. Or they may be in danger. It's a bad fire and--"

His voice was blotted out in the roar of an explosion which
seemed to hurl back the electric runabout and bring it to a
momentary stop.



CHAPTER II

NO USE OF LIVING!


Only momentarily was Tom Swift halted in his progress toward
the scene of the blaze in the fireworks factory. To him, and to
the chum who sat beside him on the seat of the electric runabout,
it appeared that the blast had actually stopped the progress of
the car. But perhaps that was more their imagination than
anything else, for the machine swept on down the hill, at the
foot of which was the conflagration.

"That was a bad one, Ned!" gasped Tom, as he turned to one side
to pass an engine on its way to the scene of excitement.

"I should say so! Must have been somebody hurt in that
blow-up!"

"I only hope it wasn't Mary or her folks!" murmured Tom. "The
wind is sweeping the fire right that way!"

"What are you going to do, Tom?" yelled his chum, as the
business manager saw the young inventor heading directly for the
blaze. "What's the idea?"

"To rescue Mary, if she's in danger!"

"I'm with you!" was Ned's quick response. "But you can't go any
closer. The police are stretching the fire lines!"

"I guess they'll let me through!" said Tom grimly.

He slowed his car as he approached a place where an officer was
driving back the throng that sought to come closer to the blaze.

"Git back! Git back, I tell you!" stormed the policeman,
pushing against the packed bodies of men and boys. "There'll be
another blow-up in a minute or two, and a lot more of you
killed!"

"Are there any killed?" asked Tom, stopping the car near the
officer.

"I guess so--yes. And some of the houses are catching. Git back
now! You, too, with that car! You'll have to back up!"

"I've got to go through!" replied Tom, with tightening lips.
"I've got to go through, Cassidy!" He knew the officer, and the
latter now seemed, for the first time, to recognize the young
inventor.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Swift?" he exclaimed. "Well, go
ahead. But be careful. 'Tis dangerous there--very dangerous,
an'--"

His voice was lost in the roar of another explosion, not as
loud or severe as the first, but more plainly felt by Tom and
Ned, for they were nearer to it.

"Now will you git back!" cried Policeman Cassidy, and the crowd
did, without further urging.

Tom started the runabout forward again.

"We've got to rescue Mary!" he said to Ned, who nodded.

In another moment the two young men were lost to sight in a
swirl of smoke that swept across the street. And while they are
thus temporarily hidden may not this opportunity be taken of
telling new readers something of the hero of this story?

The young inventor was introduced in the first volume of this
series, called "Tom Swift and his Motor Cycle." It was Tom's
first venture into the realms of invention, after he had
purchased from Mr. Wakefield Damon a speedy machine that tried to
climb a tree with that excitable gentleman.

Tom, with the help of his father, an inventor of note, rebuilt
the motor cycle adding many improvements, and it served Tom in
good stead more than once.

From then on the career of Tom Swift was steadily onward and
upward. One new invention led to another from his second venture,
a motor boat, through an airship and other marvels, and
eventually to a submarine. In each of these vehicles of motion
and travel Tom and his friends, Ned Newton and Mr. Damon, had
many adventures, detailed in the respective volumes.

His venture in proceeding to save Mary Nestor from possible
danger in the blaze of the fireworks factory was not the first
time Tom had rendered service to the Nestor family. There was
that occasion on which he had sent his wireless message from
Earthquake Island, as related in an earlier volume.

Space forbids the detailing of all that had happened to the
young inventor up to the time of the opening of this story.
Sufficient to say that Tom's latest achievement had been the
recovery of treasure from the depths of the ocean.

Tom Swift's activities in connection with his inventions had
become so numerous that the Swift Construction Company, of which
Ned Newton was financial manager and Mr. Damon one of the
directors, had been formed. And when the rumor came that there
was a chance to salvage some of the untold wealth at the bottom
of the sea, Tom was interested, as were his friends.

It was decided to search for the wreck of the Pandora, sunk in
the West Indies, and one of Tom's latest submarine craft was
utilized for this purpose.

Not to go into all the details, which are given in the last
volume of this series, entitled "Tom Swift and His Undersea
Search," suffice it to say that the venture was begun. Matters
were complicated owing to the fact that Mary Nestor's uncle,
Barton Keith, was in trouble over the loss of valuable papers
proving his title to some oil lands. Mary mentioned that a
person, Dixwell Hardley, was the man who, it was supposed, was
trying to defraud her relative. And the complications may be
imagined when it is said that this same Hardley was the man who
had interested Tom in the undersea search for the riches of the
Pandora.

Tom had been at home some time now, and it was while going over
his accounts with Ned, and, incidentally, planning new
activities, that the cry of fire broke in on them.

"Whew, Tom, some heat there!" gasped Ned, lowering his arm from
his face, an action which had been necessitated by Tom's daring
in driving the car close to the blazing fireworks factory.

"I should say so!" agreed Tom. "I can almost smell the rubber
of my tires burning. But we're out of the worst of it."

"Lucky she didn't take the notion to blow up as we were
passing," grimly commented Ned. "Where are you aiming for now?"

"Mary's house. It's just beyond here. But we can't see it on
account of the smoke."

A few seconds later they had passed through the black pall that
was slashed here and there with red slivers of flame, and, coming
to a more open space, Ned and Tom cleared their eyes of smoke.

"I guess there's no immediate danger," remarked Tom, as he saw
that the home of Mary Nestor and the houses near her residence
were, for the time being, out of the path of the flames. The
explosion had blown down part of the blazing factory nearest the
residential section, and the flames had less to feed on.

But the conflagration was still a fierce one. Not half the big
factory was yet consumed, and every now and then there would
sound dull, booming reports, causing nervous screams from the
women who were out in front of their homes, while the men would
crouch down as though fearing a shower of fiery embers.

"Oh, Tom, I'm so glad you're here!" cried Mary, as the runabout
drew up in front of her home. "Do you think it will be much
worse?" and she clutched his arm, as he got down to speak to her.

"I think the worst is over, as far as you people here are
concerned," the young inventor replied. "The wind has shifted a
bit."

"And there are several engines near us, Tom," said Mr. Nestor,
coming forward. "The firemen tell me they will play streams of
water on the roofs and outsides of our houses if the flames start
this way again."

"That ought to do the trick," said Tom, with a show of
confidence. "Anybody hurt around here?" he asked. "One of the
policeman said he heard several were killed."

"They may have been--in the factory," said Mr. Nestor. "Of
course if the fire and explosions had taken place in the daytime
the loss of life would have been great. But most of the workers
had left some time before the blaze was discovered. There are a
few men on a night shift, though, and I shouldn't be surprised
but what some of them had suffered."

"Too bad!" murmured the young inventor. "You're not worried
about your home, are you, Mrs. Nestor?" he asked of Mary's
mother.

"Oh, Tom, I certainly am!" she exclaimed. "I wanted to bring
out our things, but Mr. Nestor said it wouldn't be of any use."

"Neither it would, if we've got to burn, but I don't believe we
have--now," said her husband. "That last explosion and the shift
of the wind saved us. I appreciate your coming over, Tom," he
went on. "We might have needed your help. It's queer there isn't
some better, or more effective, way of fighting a fire than just
pouring on a comparatively insignificant bit of water," he added,
as, from what was now a safe distance, they watched the firemen
using many lines of hose.

"They do have chemical extinguishers," said Ned.

"Yes, for little baby blazes that have just started," went on
Mr. Nestor. "But in all the progress of science there has not
been much advance in fighting fires. We still do as they did a
hundred years ago--squirt water on it, and mighty little of it
compared to the blaze. It would take a week to put this fire out
by the water they are using if it were not for the fact that the
blaze eats itself up and has nothing more to feed on."

"We'll have to get Tom to invent a new way of fighting fire,"
remarked Ned.

The young inventor was about to reply when several firemen,
equipped with smoke helmets which they adjusted as they ran, came
running down the street.

"What's the matter?" asked Tom of one whom he knew.

"Some men are trapped in a small shed back of the factory," was
the answer. "We just heard of it, and we're going in after them.
Oh! Oh--my--my heart!" he gasped, and he sank to the sidewalk.
Evidently he was either overcome by the smoke and poisonous gases
or by his exertions.

Tom grasped the situation instantly. Taking the smoke helmet
from the exhausted fire-fighter, the young inventor shouted:

"I'll fill your place! See if you can grab a hat, Ned, and come
on!"

One of the other firemen had two helmets, and he offered Ned
one. Pausing only long enough to see that Mr. Nestor and some
others were looking after the exhausted "smoke-eater," Ned raced
on after Tom. The two young men, following the firemen, made
their way around the end of the factory to the smoke-filled yard
in the rear. But for the helmets, which were like the gas masks
of the Great War, they would not have been able to live.

One of the firemen pointed through the luridly-lighted smoke to
a small structure near the main building. This was beginning to
burn. With quick blows of an axe the door was hewed down, and the
rescue party, including Tom and Ned, made its way inside. In the
light from the blaze, as it filtered through the windows, it
could be seen that a man lay in a huddled heap on the floor.

By motions the leader of the rescue squad made it clear that
the man was to be carried out, and Tom helped with this while
Ned, using an axe, cleared away some debris to enable the door to
be opened fully so the men could pass out carrying their burden.

The man was taken to the Nestor yard and stretched out on the
grass. Word was relayed to one of the ambulance doctors who were
on the scene attending to several injured firemen, and in a short
time the man, who, it appeared, had been overcome by smoke, was
revived.

"Well, that was a narrow squeak for you," said one of the
firemen, glad to breathe without a mask on.

"Yes, it was touch and go," remarked the young doctor, who had
used heroic measures to bring the man back from the brink of the
grave. "But you'll live now, all right."

The revived man looked dully about him. He seemed somewhat
bewildered.

"Of what use to live?" he murmured. "You might as well have let
me die in there. Life isn't worth living now," and he sank into a
stupor, while Tom and the others looked wonderingly at one
another.



CHAPTER III

TOM'S NEW IDEA


"What's the matter with him, Doctor?" asked Tom in a low voice
of the young physician who had been working over the man. "Do you
think he is worse hurt than appears? Is he dying, and is his mind
wandering?"

"I don't believe so," answered the doctor. "At least I don't
believe that he is dying, though his mind may be wandering. He
isn't injured--at least not outwardly. Just temporarily overcome
by smoke is what it looks like to me. But of course I haven't
made a thorough examination."

"Hadn't we better get him into the house, Doctor?" asked Mr.
Nestor, who stood with Tom, Ned and a group of men and boys about
the inert form of the man lying on the grass. The rescued one was
again seemingly unconscious.

"The best medicine he can have is fresh air, the doctor
replied. "He's better off out here than in the house. Though if
he doesn't revive presently I will send him to the hospital."

The man did not appear to be so badly off but what he could
hear, and at these words he opened his eyes again.

"I don't want to go to the hospital," he murmured. "I'll be all
right presently, and can go home, though--Oh, well, what's the
use?" he asked wearily, as though he had given up some fight.
"I've lost everything."

"Well, you've got a deal of life left in you yet; and that's
more than you could say of some who have come out of smaller
fires than this," said one of the firemen who, with Tom, had
carried the man out of the shed. "Come on, we'd better be getting
back," he said to his companion. "The worst of it is over, but
there'll be plenty to do yet."

"You said it!" commented the other grimly.

They went out of the Nestor yard, many of the crowd that had
gathered during the rescue following. The doctor administered
some more stimulant in the shape of aromatic spirits of ammonia
to the man, who, after his momentary revival, had again lapsed
into a state of stupor.

"Who is he?" asked Tom, as the physician knelt down beside the
silent form.

"I don't know," said Mr. Nestor. "I know quite a number
connected with the fireworks factory, but this man is a stranger
to me."

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