Tom and Ned, looking from
a window of the hangar, saw a billow of black smoke roll across
the yard. But already the private fire bell was clanging out its
warning. And, while the work of fighting the flames is under way,
I will halt the progress of this story long enough to give my new
readers a little idea of who Tom Swift is, so they may read this
book more intelligently. Those of you who have perused the
previous volumes may skip this part.
Tom Swift, though rather young in years, was an inventor of
note. His tastes and talents were developed along the line of
machinery and locomotion. Motorcycles, automobiles, motorboats,
submarine craft, and, latest of all, craft of the air, had occupied
the attention of Tom Swift and his father for some years.
Mr. Swift was a widower, and lived with Tom, his only son, in
the village of Shopton, New York State. Mrs. Baggert kept house
for them, and an aged colored man, Eradicate Sampson, with his
mule, Boomerang, did "odd jobs" about the Shopton home and
factories.
Among Tom's friends was a Mr. Wakefield Damon, from a nearby
village. Mr. Damon was always blessing something, from his hat to
his shoes, a harmless sort of habit that seemed to afford him
much comfort.
Pages:
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31