"Disguise myself like a tramp, and go there looking for work," was the firm answer."There are plenty of odd jobs on a big place such as the Foger family have.I'll find out what I want to know, you see.
It seemed useless to further combat this resolution, and, in a few days Mr.Damon presented a very different appearance.He had on a most ragged suit, there was a scrubby beard on his face, and he walked with a curious shuffle, caused by a pair of big, heavy shoes which he had donned, first having taken the precaution to make holes in them and get them muddy.
"Now I'm all ready," he said to Tom one day, when his disguise was complete."I'm going over and try my luck."He left the house by a side door, so that no one would see him, and started down the walk.As he did so a voice shouted:
"Hi, there! Git right out oh heah! Mistah Swift doan't allow no tramps heah, an' we ain't got no wuk fo' yo', an' there ain't no cold victuals.I does all de wuk, me an' mah mule Boomerang, an' we takes all de cold victuals, too! Git right along, now!""It's Eradicate.He doesn't know you," said Tom, with a chuckle.
"So much the better," whispered Mr.Damon.But the disguise proved almost too much of a success, for seeing the supposed tramp lingering near the house, Eradicate caught up a stout stick and rushed forward.He was about to strike the ragged man, when Tom called out:
"That's Mr.Damon, Rad!"
"Wh--what!" gasped the colored man; and when the situation had been explained to him, and the necessity for silence impressed upon him, he turned away, too surprised to utter a word.He sought consolation in the stable with his mule.
Just what methods Mr.Damon used he never disclosed, but one thingis certain: That night there came a cautious knock on the door of the Swift home, and Tom, answering it, beheld his odd friend.
"Well," he asked eagerly, "what luck?"
"Put on a suit of old clothes, and come with me," said Mr.Damon."We'll look like two tramps, and then, if we're discovered, they won't know it was you.""Have you found out anything?" asked Tom eagerly.
"Not yet; but I've got a key to one of the side doors of the shed, and we can get in as soon as it's late enough so that everybody there will be in bed.""A key?How did you get it?" inquired the youth.
"Never mind," was the answer, with a chuckle."That was because of my disguise; and I haven't blessed anything to- day.I'm going to, soon, though.I can feel it coming on.But hurry, Tom, or we may be too late.""And you haven't had a look inside the shed?" asked the young inventor."You don't know what's there?""No; but we soon will."
Eagerly Tom put on tome of the oldest and most ragged garments he could find, and then he and the odd gentleman set off toward the Foger home.They waited some time after getting in sight of it, because they saw a light in one of the windows.Then, when the house was dark, they stole cautiously forward toward the big, gloomy shed.
"On this side," directed Mr.Damon in a whisper."The key I have opens this door.""But we can't see when we get inside," objected Tom."I should have brought a dark lantern.""I have one of those pocket electric flashlights," said Mr.Damon."Bless my candlestick! but I thought of that." And he chuckled gleefully.
Cautiously they advanced in the darkness.Mr.Damon fumbled at the lock of the door.The key grated as he turned it.The portal swung back, and Tom and his friend found themselves inside the shed which, of late, had been such an object of worry and conjecture to the young inventor.What would he find there?
"Flash the light," he called to Mr.Damon in a hoarse whisper.
The eccentric man drew it from his packet He pressed the spring switch, and in an instant a brilliant shaft of radiance shot out, cutting the intense blackness like a knife.Mr.Damon flashed it on all sides.
But to the amazement of Tom and his companion, it did not illuminate the broad white wings and stretches of canvas of an aeroplane It only shone on the bare walls of the shed, and on some piles of rubbish in the corners.Up and down, to right and left, shot the pencil of light."There's-- there's nothing here!" gasped Tom,"I--I guess you're right!" agreed Mr.Damon "The shed is empty!" "Then where is Andy Foger building his aeroplane?" asked Tom in awhisper; but Mr.Damon could not answer him.
