"Are we catching them, Ned?" he cried to his chum, who was not far away, playing the powerful light on the smugglers' craft.

"I think we're coming closer, but it's going to be a long chase. I don't see why we can't close up on 'em."

"Because they've got a very fast ship, Ned, and they are flying much lighter than we are. But we'll get 'em!"

"How are you making out with that gas machine?"

"Well, I'm doing all I can, but I can't seem to get the pressure down. I can't understand it. Some of the pipes must be clogged with a carbon deposit. I ought to have cleaned them out some time ago."

Ned gave a hasty glance at the gauge which showed the gas pressure. It registered six hundred pounds now, having risen a hundred in a short time.

"And she'll go up, sure, at eight hundred," murmured Ned, as he held the light steadily on the smugglers' aircraft. "Well, if Tom sticks to the chase, I will too, but I think it would be better to go down, open up everything, and let the gas escape. We could get the rascals later."

Tom, however, did not seem to think so, for he kept on with his task, working away at the pipes, trying to force the obstruction out, so that the gas from the generator would flow into the bag. At the same time he tried to shut off the generating apparatus, but that had become jammed in consequence of the pipe clogging, and the powerful vapor continued to manufacture itself automatically in spite of all that Tom could do.

The only safe way out of the danger, unless he could remove the obstruction, was to descend to earth, and, as Ned had said, open every outlet. But to have done that in mid-air would have been dangerous, as the large volume of gas, suddenly liberated, would have hung about the airship in a cloud, smothering all on board. If they were on the earth they could run away from it, and remain away until the vapor had blown off.

"Is Mr. Damon keeping her on the course, Ned?" asked Tom, pausing a moment to get his breath after a series of frantic efforts.

"Yes, and I think we're closing in on them a little."

"That's good. Are they still headed for the border?"

"Yes, I guess they're going to take no chances to-night. They're going right back to Canada where they came from."

"Well, we'll be hot after 'em. Whistle through the tube, and tell Koku to come here and give me a hand. He's with Mr. Damon in the pilot house."

Ned sent the message, and then gave his whole attention to the light. This was necessary, as the smugglers were resorting to dodging tactics, in an endeavor to escape. Now they would shoot upward, and again toward the earth, varying the performance by steering to the right or left. Ned had constantly to shift the light to keep them in focus, so that Mr. Damon could see where to steer, but, with all this handicap, the eccentric man did very well, and he was never far out in his judgment.

"By Jove!" suddenly murmured Tom, as he tried once more in vain to open a clogged valve. "I'm afraid we can't do it. Koku, lend a hand here!" he exclaimed as the giant entered. "See if you can twist this wrench around, but don't break off the handle, whatever you do."

"Me shove," replied the giant simply, as he grasped the big wrench.

Once more Ned glanced at the pressure gage. It showed seven hundred pounds now, and there was only a margin of safety of one hundred pounds more, ere a terrific explosion would occur. Still Tom had not given the order to descend to earth.

"Are you going to make it, Tom?" asked the government agent, anxiously, as he stood over the young inventor.

"I—I think so," panted Tom. "Are we near the Dominion line,"

"Pretty close," was the discouraging answer. "I'm afraid we can't get 'em before they cross. Can you use any more speed?"

"I don't know. Ned, see if you can get another notch out of her."

With one hand Ned reached for the accelerator lever on the wall near him, and pulled it to the last notch. The Falcon shot ahead with increased speed, but, at the same instant there came a gasp from Koku, and the sound of something breaking.

"There! He's done it!" cried Tom in despair. "I was afraid you'd be too strong for that wrench, Koku. You've broken off the handle. Now we'll never be able to loosen that valve."

Ned gave one more glance at the pressure gage. It showed seven hundred and fifty pounds, and the needle was slowly moving onward.

"Hadn't we better descend," asked Mr. Whitford in a low voice.

"I—I guess so," answered Tom, despairingly. "Where are we?"

Ned flashed the light downward for an instant.

"Just crossing over the St. Regis Indian reservation again," he replied. "We'll be in Canada in a few minutes more."

"Where are the smugglers?"

"Still ahead, and they're bearing off to the right."

"Going toward Montford," commented the government man. "We've lost 'em for to-night, anyhow, but they didn't get their goods landed, at any rate."

"Send her down, Ned!" exclaimed Tom, and it was high time, for the pressure was now within twenty-five pounds of the exploding point.

Down shot the Falcon, while her rival passed onward triumphantly in the darkness. Ned held the light on the smugglers as long as he dared, and then he flashed it to earth to enable Mr. Damon to pick out a good landing place.

In a few moments Tom's silent airship came to rest on a little clearing in the forest, and Tom, with Ned's help, at once opened every outlet of the gas machine, a thing they had not dared do while up in the air.

"Come on, now, run, everybody!" cried Tom. "Otherwise you'll he smothered!"

They leaped from the craft, about which gathered the fumes of the powerful gas, as it hissed from the pipes. Running a hundred yards away they were safe, and could return in a few minutes.

"We're in Canada," remarked Mr. Whitford, as they came to a halt, watching the airship.

"How do you know?" asked Ned.

"As we landed I saw one of the stone boundary posts," was the answer. "We're on English territory, and we can't touch the smugglers if we should see them now."

"Well, we'll soon be back in Uncle Sam's land," declared Tom. "We can go back on board the Falcon to sleep shortly. Jove! I wish I could have caught those fellows!"

"Never mind, we'll get 'em yet," counseled Mr. Whitford.

Waiting until he was sure all the vapor had disappeared, Tom led the way back to the Falcon. No great harm had been done, save to lose considerable gas, and this could be remedied. Tired and disappointed from the chase, they sought their bunks, and were soon asleep. In the morning Tom and Ned began work on the clogged pipes.

This work was nearly accomplished by noon, when Mr. Damon, coming back from a stroll, announced that they were but fifteen minutes walk from the St. Lawrence River, as he had seen the sparkling waters from a neighboring hill.

"Let's go over and have a look at it," proposed Ned. "We can easily finish this when we get back. Besides, Tom, we don't want to get to our regular camp until after dark, anyhow."

The young inventor was willing, and the two lads, with Mr. Whitford, strolled toward the historic stream. As they drew near the bank, they saw, anchored a little distance out, a small steamer. Approaching it, as if she had just left the shore at a point near where our friends stood, was a gasolene launch, containing several men, while on shore, in front of a small shanty, stood another man.

This latter individual, at the sight of Tom, Ned and Mr. Whitford, blew a shrill whistle. Those in the launch looked back. The man on shore waved a red flag in a peculiar way, almost as the soldiers in the army wig-wag signals.

In another moment the launch turned about, and put for shore, while the lone man hurried back into the hut.

"Hum!" remarked Tom. "Those are queer actions."

"Suspicious actions, I should say," said Mr. Whitford. "I'm going to see what this means."



CHAPTER XXI

MR. PERIOD ARRIVES

Greatly interested in what was about to take place, and not a little suspicious, our friends stood on the bank of the river and watched the motor boat returning. As it reached a little dock in front of the hut, the man who had waved the red flag of warning came out, and talked rapidly to those in the power craft. At the same time he pointed occasionally to Tom, Ned and the government agent.

"This is getting interesting," remarked Mr. Whitford. "We may have accidentally stumbled on something important Tom."

"See, they're signalling to the steamer now," spoke Ned, and, as he said this, his companions looked, and noted the man from the hut waving a white flag, in a peculiar manner. His signals were answered by those on the vessel anchored out in the stream, and, a little later, black smoke could be seen pouring from her funnel.

"Looks as if they were getting ready to leave," spoke Tom.

"Yes, we seem to have started things moving around here," observed Ned.

"Or else we have prevented from moving," remarked the custom agent.

"What do you mean?" Tom wanted to know.

"I mean that these men were evidently going to do something just as we arrived, and spoiled their plans. I would say they were going to land goods from that schooner. Now the are not."

"What kind of goods?" asked Ned.

"Well, of course I'm not sure, but I should say smuggled goods."

"The smugglers!" cried Tom. "Why, they can't be smugglers, for we are on Canadian territory. The river isn't the dividing line between the Dominion and the United States at this point. The St. Lawrence lies wholly in Canada here, and the men have a right to land any goods they want to, dutiable or not."

"That's just it." put in Mr. Whitford. "They have the right, but they are afraid to exercise it, and that's what makes me suspicious. If they were doing a straight business they wouldn't be afraid, no matter who saw them. They evidently recognize us, by description, if by no other means, and they know we are after smugglers. That's why they stopped the brining of goods from that vessel to shore. They want to wait until we are gone."

"But we couldn't stop them from landing goods, even if they know we are working for Uncle Sam," declared Tom.

"That's very true, but it is evidently their intention, not only to land goods here, which they have a perfect right to do, but to send them into the United States, which they have not a right to do without paying the duty."

"Then you really think they are the smugglers?" asked Ned.

"I'm pretty sure of it. I think we have stumbled on one of the places where the goods are landed, and where they are loaded into the airships. This is the best luck we could have, and it more than makes up for not catching the rascals last night. Now we know where to get on their trail."

"If they don't change the place," observed Tom.

"Oh, of course, we've got to take that chance."

"Here's one of them coming over to speak to us, I guess," remarked Tom in a low voice, as he observed the man, who had waved the flag approaching. There was no doubt of his intention for, as soon as he came within talking distance, the stranger called out:

"What are you fellows doing here?"

"Looking at the river," replied Mr. Whitford, calmly.

"Well, you'd better find some other place for a view. This is private property, and we don't like trespassers. Get a move on—get out!"

"Are we doing any harm?" asked the agent.

"I didn't say you were. This is our land, and we don't like strangers snooping around. That's all."

"Particularly when you are going to land some goods."

"What do you mean?" gasped the man.

"I guess you know well enough," was Mr. Whitford's reply.

The man suddenly turned, and gave a shrill whistle. Instantly, from the hut, came several men who had been in the motor boat. One or two of them had weapons.

"I guess you'd better go now," said the first man sharply. "You're not in the United States now, you know."

"It's easy to see that, by the POLITENESS of the residents of this section," put in Tom.

"None of your back talk! Get away from here!" cried the man. "If you don't go peaceably—"

"Oh, we're going," interposed Mr. Whitford calmly. "But that isn't saying we won't come back. Come on, boys. We'll get over on Uncle Sam's territory."

The group of men stood silently watching them, as they filed back through the woods.

"What do you make of it?" asked Tom of the agent.

"I'm positive that I'm right, and that they're the smugglers. But I can't do anything on this side of the line. If ever I can catch them across the border, though, there'll be a different story to tell."

"What had we better do?" inquired Ned.

"Go back to our airship, and leave for Logansville. We don't need to land until night, though, but we can make a slow trip. Is the gas machine all right again, Tom?"

"Practically so. If that hadn't gone back on me we would have had those fellows captured by this time."

"Never mind. We did our best."

It did not take Tom and his chum long to complete the repairs, and soon they arose in the air.

"Let's take a flight over where those fellows are, just to show them what we can do," proposed Ned, and Tom and Mr. Whitford agreed to it. Soon they were circling over the hut. The launch was just starting out again, when a cry from the man who seemed to be a sort of guard, drew the attention of his confederates to the noiseless airship.

Once more the launch was turned about, and sent back to shore, while those in it shook their fists at Tom and his friends.

"We can play tag with 'em up here!" chuckled Ned.

"There's the small vessel that pulled up anchor a while ago," remarked Mr. Whitford, pointing to the vessel which had steamed around a wooded point. "They thought we had gone for good, and they were getting ready to land the stuff. Well, we'll know where to head for next time, when we watch for the smugglers at night."

Realizing that nothing more could be done, Tom sent his airship toward the camp, just outside of Loganville. But he did not land until after dark, when, making out the spot by means of the electric lights, which were set aglow automatically at dark, he descended.

"We won't try anything to-night," said Mr. Whitford. "I doubt if the smugglers will themselves, after their experience last night. I'll get into town, see some of my men, and come out here to-morrow night again."

Tom and Ned spent the following day in going carefully over the Falcon, making some slight repairs. The great searchlight was cleaned and adjusted, and then, as dusk came on once more Tom remarked:

"Well, we're ready for 'em any time Mr. Whitford is."

Hardly had he spoken than the tramp of horses' feet was heard coming along the bridle path through the woods, and a voice was heard to exclaim:

"There, now, I understand it perfectly! You don't need to say another word. I know it may be against the regulations, but I can fix that. I'm the busiest man in the world, but I just had to come up here and see Tom Swift. It's costing me a thousand dollars, but the money is well spent. Now don't interrupt me! I know what you're going to say! That you haven't time to bother with moving pictures. But you have! I must have some moving pictures of your chase after the smugglers. Now, don't speak to me, I know all about it. You can't tell me anything. I'll talk to Tom. Are we most there?"

"Yes, we're here," answered Mr. Whitford's voice, and Tom fancied the government agent was a bit puzzled by his strange companion.

"Bless my shoe string!" gasped Mr. Damon.

"Him picture man!" cried Koku.

"Mr. Period!" exclaimed Tom. "I wonder what he is doing here?" and the next moment the excitable little man, for whom Tom had run so many risks getting marvelous moving pictures, with the wizard camera, entered the clearing where the airship was anchored.



CHAPTER XXII

HOVERING O'ER THE BORDER

"Well, Tom, you see I couldn't get along without you," exclaimed Mr. Period, as he rushed forward and grasped Tom's hand, having alighted in rather an undignified manner from the horse that he had ridden. "I'm after you again."

"So I see." remarked our hero. "But I'm afraid I can't—"

"Tut! Tut! Don't say that," interrupted the moving picture man. "I know what you're going to say. Don't do it! Don't go back on me, Tom! Have you the wonderful moving picture camera with you."

"I have, Mr. Period, but—"

"Now! Now! That'll do," broke in the excitable little man. "If you have it, that's enough. I want you to get me some films, showing you in chase of the smugglers. They'll be great to exhibit in our chain of theatres."

"How did you know I was here?" asked Tom. "Easily enough. I called at your house. Your father told me where you were. I came on. It cost me a thousand dollars—maybe more. I don't care! I've got to have those films! You'll get them for me; won't you?"

"Well, I—"

"That's enough! I know what you're going to say. Of course you will! Now how soon may I expect them. They ought to make a good run. Say in a week?"

"It all depends on the smugglers," said Mr. Whitford.

"Yes, yes! I understand, of course. I know! This friend of yours has been very kind to me, Tom. I looked him up as soon as I got to Logansville, and told him what I wanted. He offered to show me the way out here, and here I am. Let's have a look at the camera, to see if it's in good shape. Are you going to have a try for the smugglers to-night?"

"I think so," answered Tom. "As for the camera, really I've been so busy I haven't had time to look at it since we started. I guess it's all right. I don't know what made me bring it along, as I didn't expect to use it."

"But with your great searchlight it will be just the thing," suggested Ned.

"Yes, I think so," added Mr. Whitford, who had been told about the wizard instrument.

"Bless my detective badge!" cried Mr. Damon. "It may be just the thing, Tom. You can offer moving pictures of the smugglers in court, for evidence."

"Of course!" added Mr. Period. "Now, Tom, don't disappoint me."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to get the camera out, and set it up," conceded Tom with a laugh. "As you say, Mr. Damon, the pictures MAY come in valuable. Come, Ned, you get out the camera, and set it up, while Koku and I see to getting the ship in shape for a flight. You'll come along, Mr. Period?"

"I don't know. I was thinking of going back. I'm losing about a hundred dollars a minute by being away from my business."

"You'll have to go back alone," said Mr. Whitford, "as I have to be with Tom, in case of a capture."

"Ride back alone, through these woods? Never! The smugglers might catch me, and I'm too valuable a man to go that way! I'll take a chance in the airship."

Ned busied himself over the wizard camera, which had been stored away, and Mr. Period went with the young bank clerk to look after the apparatus. Meanwhile Tom and Koku saw to it that the Falcon was ready for a quick flight, Mr. Damon and Mr. Whitford lending whatever aid was necessary. The horses, which the agent and Mr. Period had ridden, were tethered in the clearing where they could get food and water.

"Did the smugglers rush anything over last night?" asked Tom.

"No, we evidently had them frightened. But I shouldn't be surprised but what they made the attempt to-night. We'll go back toward the St. Regis Indian reservation, where they were getting ready to unload that steamer, and hover around the border there. Something is sure to happen, sooner or later."

"I guess that's as good a plan as any," agreed Tom, and in a little while they started.

All that night they hovered over the border, sailing back and forth, flashing the great light at intervals to pick up the white wings of a smuggling airship. But they saw nothing.

Mr. Period was in despair, as he fully counted on a capture being made while he was present, so that he might see the moving pictures made. But it was not to be.

The wizard camera was all in readiness, but there was no need to start the automatic machinery. For, search as Tom and his friends did for a trace of the smugglers, they could see nothing. They put on full speed, and even went as far as the limits of the Indian reservation, but to no purpose. They heard no throbbing motor, no whizz of great propellers, and saw no white, canvas wings against the dark background of the sky, as Tom's craft made her way noiselessly along.

"I guess we've frightened them away," said Mr. Whitford dubiously, as it came near morning, and nothing suspicious had been seen or heard. "They're holding back their goods, Tom until they think they can take us unawares. Then they'll rush a big shipment over."

"Then's the time we must catch them," declared the young inventor. "We may as well go back now."

"And not a picture!" exclaimed Mr. Period tragically. "Well, be sure to get good ones when you do make a capture, Tom."

"I will," promised the young inventor. Then, with a last sweep along the border he turned the nose of his craft toward Logansville. He had almost reached the place, and was flying rather low over the country roads, when Ned called:

"Hark! I hear something!"

The unmistakable noise of a gasolene motor in operation could be distinguished.

"There they are!" cried Mr. Period.

"Bless my honeysuckle vine!" gasped Mr. Damon.

"The light, Ned, the light!" cried Tom.

His chum flashed the powerful beam all around the horizon, and toward the sky, but nothing was visible.

"Try down below," suggested Mr. Whitford.

Ned sent the beams earthward. And there, in the glare, they saw a youth speeding along on a motor-cycle. In an instant Tom grabbed up the binoculars and focussed them on the rider.

"It's Andy Foger!" he cried.



CHAPTER XXIII

NED IS MISSING

There was a period of silence, following Tom's startling announcement. There were several plate glass windows in the floor of the airship, and through these they all gazed at the youth on the motor-cycle. Only Tom, however, by the aid of the glasses, was able to make out his features.

"Bless my spark plug! Andy Foger!" cried Mr. Damon. "Are you going to try to catch him?"

"Get him and break chug-chug machine!" suggested Koku.

"What do you suppose he's up to, Tom?" asked Ned.

"Andy Foger speeding along at this hour of the morning," remarked Mr. Whitford. "There must be something in the wind."

"Get a moving picture of him," urged Mr. Period. "I might be able to use that."

"I hardly think it would be worth while," decided Tom. "You see Andy hasn't done anything criminal, as far as we know. Of course I think he is capable of it, but that's a different thing. He may be out only on a pleasure jaunt, and he could stop us from showing the pictures, if we took them."

"That's so," agreed Mr. Period. "Don't run any risks of a lawsuit. It takes up too much of my time. Never mind the pictures."

"Just capture him, Tom, and see what he is doing," suggested Mr. Damon. "Bless my chewing gum! But he must be up to something."

"Well, he's aware of the fact that we're watching him, at all events!" exclaimed Mr. Whitford, for, at that moment, Andy, having seen the glare of the light, glanced up. They could see him looking at him, and, a second later, the Shopton bully steered his machine down a side road where the overhanging trees were so thick that he could not be made out, even by the powerful gleams of the great searchlight.

"He's gone!" gasped Ned.

"Afraid I guess," added Mr. Damon. "That shows he was up to something wrong. Well, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing, that I can see," spoke Mr. Whitford. "We can only go back to our camping place, and make another try. This Andy Foger may, or may not, be in with the smugglers. That's something we have yet to prove. However, we can't do anything now."

In vain did Ned try to get the bully within range of the light. They could hear the sounds of the motor cycle growing more and more faint, and then, as it was rapidly getting light, and as they did not want to be seen dropping into their camping place, they made all haste toward it, before dawn should break.

"Well, I can't spend any more time here," declared Mr. Period, when a hasty breakfast had been served.

"Will you ride back with me?" asked Mr. Whitford of the moving picture man.

"Will I? Well, I guess I will! You can't lose me! I'm not going to be captured by those smugglers. I'd be a valuable man for them to have as a hostage. They'd probably ask a million dollars ransom for me," and Mr. Period carefully straightened his brilliant red necktie.

Soon he and Mr. Whitford were riding back to town, taking a roundabout way, as the agent always did, to throw any possible spies off the track.

Everyone, even including the giant Koku was tired enough to take a sleep after dinner. It was about three o'clock when Ned awoke, and he found Tom already up, and at the wireless instrument, which was clicking and buzzing.

"Message coming?" asked the young bank clerk.

Tom nodded, and clasped the receiver over his ear. A moment later he began jotting down a message.

"Mr. Whitford says he has a tip that something is going to take place to-night," read the young inventor a few minutes later. "The smugglers have accumulated a big store of goods, and they are anxious to get them over the border. There are silks, laces, diamonds, and other things on which there is a high duty, or tax for bringing into the United States. He will be here early, and we must be ready for a start at once."

"All right. I guess we are ready now. Say, I'm going over to that little brook, and see if I can catch a few trout for supper."

"All right. Good idea. Don't be gone too long."

"I won't. Say, where is my coat, anyhow? I never can seem to keep track of that, or my cap either."

"Never mind. Wear mine, and you won't be delayed looking for them," so Ned donned Tom's garment and headpiece, and set out.

Three hours passed, and Mr. Damon prepared to get supper.

"I wonder why Ned doesn't come back with the fish?" he said. "It's time, if we're going to cook them to-night."

"That's right, he ought to be here," agreed Tom. "Koku take a walk over to the trout brook, and tell Mr. Ned to come here, whether he has any fish or not."

"Sure, me go, Mr. Tom!"

Koku was gone perhaps five minutes, and when he came back he was much excited.

"Mr. Ned he no there!" the giant cried. "But fish pole all broken, and ground all full of holes. Look like fight."

Tom started for the place where he knew Ned usually went to fish. Koku and Mr. Damon followed. On reaching it our hero saw indeed that the ground was "full of holes," as the giant described the indentations made by the heels of boots and shoes.

"There's been a fight here!" cried Tom.

"Yes, and Ned is missing," added Mr. Damon.



CHAPTER XXIV

THE NIGHT RACE

The three looked at each other. For a moment they could not understand, and then, as they stood there, the meaning came to them.

"The smugglers!" whispered Tom.

"Of course!" agreed Mr. Damon. "And they must have taken him for you, Tom, for he had on your coat and cap. What can they have done with him?"

"Taken him away, that's evident," spoke Tom. "Let's look around, and see if we can find him."

They looked, but to no purpose. Ned had disappeared. There were the signs of a struggle, the fish rod was broken in several places, as if Ned had used it as a club, and the ground was torn up.

"Bless my tin whistle!" cried Mr. Damon. "What shall we do?"

For a moment no one knew what to say, then, as they looked at each other in silence, a voice called:

"I say! What's up? What's the matter? Where are you all? Hey, Tom Swift!"

"It's Mr. Whitford!" cried Tom. "He's just in time." Then he called in louder tones:

"Here we are! In the woods by the trout brook! Come on over! Ned is gone!"

There was a commotion in the bushes, the trampling of a horse, and a moment later the government agent had joined the others.

"What's this?" he cried. "Ned gone? What do you mean?"

"He's missing. The smugglers have him, I'm afraid," explained Tom, and then he gave the details.

"It certainly looks so," agreed Mr. Whitford. "His wearing of your coat and cap fooled them. They must have spied out this camping place, and they were in hiding. When they saw Ned coming to fish they took him for you. Having failed in their attempt to damage the airship, they decided to get her captain. Probably they thought that if they did the Falcon could not be run, and they would be safe. But they got the wrong man."

"Then we must get Ned back at once!" cried Tom. "Come on, we'll start right away! Where do you think we can nab them, Mr. Whitford?"

"Wait a minute," suggested the government agent. He seemed in deep thought, and paced up and down. It was clear that a great question was confronting him.

"Well!" exclaimed Tom impatiently, "if we're going to get Ned we must start at once."

"Perhaps it would be best not to try to rescue Ned at once," said the custom house man after a pause.

"What!" cried Tom. "Not rescue Ned, my best chum?"

"Not at once," repeated Mr. Whitford. "Look here, Tom. I know it seems a hard thing to say, but perhaps if we proceed on our original plan, to hover over the border, and get on the trail of the smugglers, chasing them to where they land the goods in the United States, it will be best."

"And not rescue Ned?"

"We can best rescue him by catching the smugglers."

"Then you think—"

"That they have him with them—on board one of their airships very likely. If we get THEM we'll have NED."

"Then we'll get 'em!" cried Tom with energy. "Come on back to the Falcon. We'll get ready for a big flight!"

"Yes, I think they'll make a desperate effort to-night," went on the agent. "They have a lot of goods ready to rush over the border, and the fact that they tried to capture you, shows that they are ready to pull off a big trick. I think if we can catch them to-night, it will put an end to their operations, and, at the same time, bring Ned back to us."

"Where do you think they will start to cross the line?" asked Tom.

"Near the place where we saw the man waving the flags. I have information to the effect that they have a store of valuable goods there. They imagine that they have the master of the airship, and the owner of the great searchlight in their power, and that they can not be molested, so they will be bold."

"But they'll soon find out that Ned isn't Tom," said Mr. Damon.

"No they won't! Not if it depends on Ned!" cried Tom. "Ned is game. He'll soon get wise to the fact that they have taken him for me, and he'll carry on the deception. None of the smugglers know me intimately."

"Unless Andy Foger should be with them," suggested Mr. Damon.

"Oh, Ned can fool Andy any day. Come on, Mr. Whitford. We'll get the smugglers to-night, spoil their game, and rescue Ned. Somehow, I feel that we're going to succeed."

"Bless my tin dishpan!" cried Mr. Damon. "I hope we do."

Slowly, and with no very cheerful hearts, they filed away from the scene of Ned's capture. In spite of the fact that they did not think he would be harshly treated, they worried about him, Tom especially.

A hasty supper was eaten, and then, Tom, having seen that everything aboard the ship was in good order, sent her aloft on what he hoped would be the last chase after the smugglers. He decided to have Mr. Damon steer the craft, as this was comparatively easy, once she was started on her course, while the young inventor would manage the searchlight, and start the automatic wizard camera, in case there was anything to photograph.

Up and up went the Falcon, and soon she was making her way toward the St. Regis Indian reservation, near which it was expected the smugglers would start. Tom put out every light, as he wanted to remain in darkness, until he could see a moving glow in the sky that would tell him of a rival airship on the wing.

It did not take them long to reach the desired spot, and they hovered in the air over it, every one with tense nerves, waiting for what would happen next.

Tom did not want to show his searchlight just yet, as he feared the gleam of it might stop the operations of the smugglers. So he waited in dark-ness, approaching close to the earth in his noiseless ship several times, and endeavoring to see something through the powerful night glasses.

Suddenly, from below them, came a subdued throb and hum of a motor.

"There they are!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"I think so," agreed Tom. He looked below. He saw two flickering lights, rather far apart. Mr. Whitford observed them at the same moment.

"There are TWO of them!" exclaimed the agent, "TWO airships, Tom!"

"So I see. Koku, get out my electric rifle. We can't chase two, if they separate, so I may have to stop one. It's best to be prepared. I'm going to follow them in the dark, until they get over the border, and then I'll turn on the light and the camera. Then it will be a race to the finish."

The twin lights came nearer. Tom stood with his mouth to the signal tube that communicated with Mr. Damon in the pilot house. From a side window he watched the smugglers' airships. They shot upward and then came on straight ahead, to pass to one side of him. Now they were past. Tom started the wizard camera.

"Half speed ahead!" the young inventor signalled, and the Falcon shot forward. The night race was on.



CHAPTER XXV

THE CAPTURE—CONCLUSION

"Do you think they know we are here, Tom?" asked Mr. Whitford, as he stood at the side of the young inventor in the motor room.

"I don't believe so, as yet. They can't hear us, and, unless they have pretty powerful glasses, they can't pick us up. We can soon tell however, if they are aware that we are following them."

"Have you made any plan about capturing them?"

"No, I'm going to wait and see what turns up. I can't certainly chase two of them, if they separate, and that's why I'm going to cripple one if I have to."

"But won't that be dangerous? I don't want to see any of them killed, or even hurt, though they are smugglers."

"And I don't want to hurt them, either. If worst comes to worst I'm going to put a few holes in the wing planes of the smaller craft. That will cause her to lose headway, and she can't keep up. They'll have to volplane to earth, but, if they know anything at all about airships, they can do that easily, and not get a bit hurt. That will put them out of the race, and I can keep on after the big ship. I fancy that carries the more valuable cargo."

"I presume so. Well, don't bring the one to earth until you get over Uncle Sam's territory, and then maybe there will be a chance to capture them, and the goods too."

"I will," promised Tom. They were still over Canadian territory, but were rapidly approaching the border.

"I think I will send a wireless to my men in Logansville, to start out and try to pick up the crippled airship after you disable her," decided Mr. Whitford, and as Tom agreed that this was a good plan, the wireless was soon cracking away, the government agent being an adept in its use.

"I've told them we'd give another signal to tell them, as nearly as possible where we made them take to earth," he said to Tom, and the young inventor nodded in agreement.

"Ned in them ship?" asked Koku, as he came back from the pilot house to report that Mr. Damon was all right, and needed no help.

"Yes, I think Ned is in one of them," said Tom. "The big one most likely. Poor Ned a prisoner! Well, I'll soon have him away from them—if nothing happens," and Tom looked about the motor room, to make sure that every piece of apparatus was working perfectly.

The two airships of the smugglers were hanging close together, and it was evident that the larger one had to make her pace slow, so as not to get ahead of the small craft. Tom followed on relentlessly, not using half his speed, but creeping on silently in the darkness.

"We're over the United States now," said Mr. Whitford, after a glance earthward through the binoculars. "Let 'em get a little farther over the line before you pop 'em with your electric rifle, Tom."

Our hero nodded, and looked out of a side window to note the progress of the smugglers. For several miles the chase was thus kept up, and then, suddenly the smaller craft was seen to swerve to one side.

"They are separating!" cried Mr. Whitford, at the same time Mr. Damon called through the tube from the pilot house:

"Which one shall I follow, Tom?"

"The big one," the youth answered. "I'll take care of the other!" With a quick motion he flashed the current into the great searchlight, and, calling to Mr. Whitford to hold it so that the beams played on the small aeroplane, Tom leveled his wonderful electric rifle at the big stretch of canvas. He pressed the lever, a streak of blue flame shot out through an opened port, and, an instant later, the small craft of the smugglers was seen to stagger about, dipping to one side.

"There they come!" cried Mr. Whitford. "They're done for!"

"One shot more," said Tom grimly. "It won't hurt 'em!"

Again the deadly electric rifle sent out its wireless charge, and the airship slowly fluttered toward the earth.

"They're volplaning down!" cried Tom. "That's the end of them. Now to catch the other!"

"Take the lantern!" cried Mr. Whitford. "I'm going to send a wireless to my men to get after this disabled craft."

Tom swung the beam of the searchlight forward and a moment later had picked up the big aeroplane. It was some distance in advance, and going like the wind. He heard the automatic camera clicking away.

"They speeded her up as soon as they saw what was on!" cried Tom. "But we haven't begun to go yet!"

He signalled to Mr. Damon, who pulled over the accelerating lever and instantly the Falcon responded. Now indeed the race was on in earnest. The smugglers must have understood this, for they tried all their tactics to throw the pursuing airship off the track. They dodged and twisted, now going up, and now going down, and even trying to turn back, but Tom headed them off. Ever the great beam of light shone relentlessly on them, like some avenging eye. They could not escape.

"Are we gaining?" cried Mr. Whitford.

"A little, and slowly," answered Tom. "They have a bigger load on than when we chased them before, but still they have a speed almost equal to ours. They must have a magnificent motor."

Faster and faster sped on the Falcon. The other craft kept ahead of her, however, though Tom could see that, inch by inch, he was overhauling her.

"Where do they seem to be heading for?" asked the government agent.

"Shopton, as near as I can make out," replied the youth. "They probably want to get there ahead of us, and hide the goods. I must prevent that. Mr. Damon is steering better than he ever did before."

Tom shifted the light to keep track of the smugglers, who had dipped downward on a steep slant. Then they shot upward, but the Falcon was after them.

The hours of the night passed. The chase was kept up. Try as the smugglers did, they could not shake Tom off. Nearer and nearer he crept. There was the gray dawn of morning in the sky, and Tom knew, from the great speed they had traveled that they must be near Shopton.

"They're slowing up. Tom!" suddenly cried Mr. Whitford who was watching them through an open port.

"Yes, I guess they must have heated some of their bearings. Well, here's where I capture them, if it's ever to be. Koku, let down the grappling anchor."

"Are you really going to capture them, Tom?" asked the custom officer.

"I'm going to try," was the answer, as Koku came back to say that the anchor was dragging over the stern by a long rope.

"You work the light, Mr. Whitford," cried Tom. "I'm going to relieve Mr. Damon in the pilot house. He can help you here. It will be all over in another minute."

In the pilot house Tom grasped the steering levers. Then in a final burst of speed he sent his craft above, and past that of the smugglers.

Suddenly he felt a shock. It was the grappling anchor catching in the rail of the other air craft. A shout of dismay arose from the smugglers.

"You've got 'em! You've got 'em, Tom!" yelled Mr. Whitford.

"Bless my hasty pudding! So he has!" gasped Mr. Damon.

Changing the course of his craft Tom sent the Falcon toward the earth, pulling the other aeroplane with him. Down and down he went, and the frantic efforts of the smugglers to release themselves were useless. They were pulled along by the powerful airship of our hero.

A few minutes later Tom picked out a good landing place in the dim light of the breaking dawn, and went to earth. Jamming on the brakes he leaped from the pilot house to the stern of his own craft, catching up his electric rifle. The other airship, caught by the grappling anchor at the end of a long rope, was just settling down, those in her having the good sense to shut off their power, and volplane when they found that they could not escape.

As the smugglers' craft touched the earth, several figures leaped from her, and started to run away.

"Hold on!" cried Tom. "I've got you all covered with the electric rifle! Don't move! Koku, you, and Mr. Whitford and Mr. Damon take care of them. Tie 'em up."

"Bless my hat band!" cried the eccentric man. "What a great capture! Where are we?"

"Not far from Shopton," answered Tom. "But look after the prisoners."

There was a cry of astonishment from Mr. Whitford as he reached the sullen occupants of the smugglers' craft.

"Here are the Fogers—father and son!" the agent called to Tom. "They were in it after all. Great Scott! What a surprise. And here are a lot of men whom I've been after for some time! Oh, Tom Swift, this IS a capture."

"What right have you to use these high-handed methods on us?" demanded Mr. Foger pompously.

"Yes, dad make 'em let us go; we haven't done anything!" snarled Andy.

"I guess you won't go yet a while," said the agent. "I'll have a look inside this craft. Keep 'em covered, Tom."

"I will. I guess Andy knows what this rifle can do. See if Ned is a prisoner."

There was a few moments of waiting during which Koku and Mr. Damon securely bound the prisoners. Then Mr. Whitford reappeared. He was accompanied by some one.

"Hello, Tom!" called the latter. "I'm all right. Much obliged for the rescue."

"Are you all right, Ned?" asked Tom, of his chum.

"Yes, except that they kept me gagged. The men who captured me took me for you, and, after the Fogers found out the mistake, they decided to keep me anyhow. Say, you've made a great haul."

And so it proved, for in the airship was a quantity of valuable silks and laces, while on the persons of the smugglers, including Mr. Foger, were several packets of diamonds. These were taken possession of by Mr. Whitford, who also confiscated the bales and packages.

Ned was soon aboard the Falcon, while the prisoners, securely tied were laid in the cabin of their own craft with Koku to stand guard over them. Mr. Damon went to Shopton, which was the nearest town, for police aid, and soon the smugglers were safe in jail, though Mr. Foger protested vigorously against going.

Ned explained how he had been pounced upon by two men when he was fishing, and told how without a chance to warn his friends, he had been gagged and bound and taken to the headquarters of the smugglers in Canada, just over the border. They went by carriages. Then the Fogers, who, it seemed, were hand in glove with the law violators, saw him, and identified him. The smugglers had thought they were capturing Tom.

"It was your coat and hat that did it, Tom," explained Ned. "I fought against being taken away, but when I happened to think if they took me for you it might be a trick against them. And it was. The Fogers didn't discover the mistake until just before we started."

"They planned for a big shipment of goods last night and used two airships. I don't know what became of the other."

"We've got her, and the men, too," interposed Mr. Whitford, as this conversation was taking place several hours later in the Swift home. "I just had a wire from my deputy. They got right after the damaged airship, and reached her just as the men were hiding the goods, and preparing to dismantle the craft. We have them all, thanks to you, Tom!"

"And to think that the Fogers were in it all the while!" remarked Tom. "They certainly fooled us."

"I'm not done with them yet," said Mr. Whitford. "I'm going to have another look at their house, and the gardener's home."

"The Fogers were in dire straits, that's why they went in with the smugglers," explained Ned. "Though they gagged me, they didn't stop up my ears, and when they hid me in a little room on the airship, I could hear them talking together. It seems that the smugglers put up the money to buy the airships, and just happened to stumble on Andy to run the machinery for them. His father helped, too. They shared in the proceeds, and they must have made considerable, for the smuggling has been going on for some time."

"Well, they'll lose all they made," declared the agent. Later he, Tom and Ned made another inspection of the Foger premises. Down in the cellar of the gardener's house they found, behind a cunningly concealed door, a tunnel leading into the old mansion. Later it was learned that the smugglers had been in the habit of bringing goods across the border in airships, landing them in a lonely stretch of woods outside of Shopton, and later bringing them by wagon to the mansion.

Inside there, in some secret rooms that had been constructed off of the main apartments, the goods would be unpacked, put in different boxes, carried through the tunnel to the gardener's house, and thence shipped as "old furniture" to various unscrupulous agents who disposed of them.

The hiring of Mr. Dillon had been only a blind. Later the smugglers, in the guise of carpenters, made the desired changes. So cunningly had the opening of the tunnel in the cellar of the gardener's house been concealed, that it was only discovered after a most careful search.

There is little more to tell. With the capture of the two airships, an end was put to the smuggling operations, especially since nearly all the gang was captured. A few, those who brought the goods up the St. Lawrence, from the ocean steamers, managed to escape, but they had to go into hiding.

The goods captured proved very valuable, and partly made up to Uncle Sam's treasury the losses sustained. Tom was offered a big reward, but would not take it, accepting only money for his expenses, and requesting that the reward be divided among the agents of Mr. Whitford's staff, who needed it more than Tom did.

There was no difficulty about convicting the prisoners, including the Fogers, for Tom's wizard camera had taken pictures of the chase and capture, and the men were easily identified. Mr. Period was quite delighted with the roll of films that Tom gave him. Some of the smugglers were sent to prison for long terms, and others, including Andy and his father, had to pay heavy fines.

"Well, Tom Swift, I can't thank you enough," said Mr. Whitford, one day as he called to pay the young inventor a visit. "I'm ordered to the Pacific coast and I may have to send for you with your airship, and great searchlight."

"I don't believe I'll come," laughed the lad. "I'm going to take a long rest and settle down."

"He's going to get married!" exclaimed Ned, taking care to get behind a chair.

"If Mr. Tom marry, he keep Koku for servant?" asked the giant anxiously.

"Oh, I'm not going to get married, just yet, Koku!" exclaimed Tom, who was blushing furiously. "I'm going to invent something new."

"Bless my fountain pen!" cried Mr. Damon.

"Oh, Tom, it seems good to have you home again," said aged Mr. Swift softly.

"Dat's what it do!" added Eradicate. "Boomerang hab been monstrous lonely sence yo'-all been gone, Massa Tom."

"Well, I'm going to stay home—for a while," said Tom. And thus, surrounded as he is by his friends and relatives, we will take leave of Tom Swift.

THE END