CHAPTER XVI

A GIANT’S STRENGTH

“WHAT happened?” cried Ned Newton.

“We seem to have struck something,” Tom answered. In spite of the emergency and, probably, danger, the young inventor remained cool and collected.

“Struck something!” ejaculated Ned. “How could that be so, high in the air? Air travel isn’t yet as popular as autoing. If we were on the ground I could believe it.”

“We aren’t very high,” Tom said, glancing at the gage. “I have a strong suspicion that we have rammed the side of a mountain.”

“Whew!” whistled Ned. “That’s bad!”

“Luckily we were going slowly. Also somebody must have cut off the motors even before I signaled for it,” observed Tom. “At worse, I think we’ve crushed the false nose.” The _Silver Cloud_ was provided with a fender, like those on autos, on the front of the cigar-shaped gas envelope of oralum. It was one of the last improvements designed by the young inventor.

“Well,” remarked Ned, not feeling so alarmed now, “if we’ve only got a bent fender, so to speak, what’s the matter with backing up out of the way of the mountain, if that’s what we hit, begging its pardon, and going on?”

“We’ll try,” Tom answered, laughing at Ned’s conceit, as he went to the door of his control cabin. He had heard the rush of feet and knew his officers and crew were hastening to report for orders.

“Maybe we hit another airship,” suggested Ned.

“No, I hardly think that,” Tom answered, trying to peer out of one of the cabin windows. “It’s hard to see.”

“It’s as thick as bean soup,” murmured Ned. “I can’t make out anything except a lot of fog and something dimly black beyond it.”

“That’s the mountain we hit, I think,” Tom said. “But I’ll have the search lights turned on and they may help a little.”

Another of his recent improvements was a battery of powerful lights, located on the outside of the oralum envelope and just below the control cabin. They had a new style of lens and the beams of light sent out were designed to penetrate fog and smoke. Of course no light will penetrate far under these conditions, but those of Tom Swift’s big dirigible were far ahead of any others yet invented.

Suddenly the white, murky mist all about the _Silver Cloud_ was brightly illuminated and the observers in Tom’s control cabin, peering out and ahead, saw dimly just in front of them the dark, forest-grown, sloping side of a mountain. The big ship, sailing low in the fog, had rammed her nose into it.

“Well, it isn’t as bad as it might be,” Ned remarked, as he took an observation, aided by the gleaming fog-lights. “Can’t you back up and go on, Tom? Rise above the fog, maybe. The gas envelope isn’t cracked, is it?”

“No,” Tom answered, glancing at a gage. “Otherwise the lowered pressure, caused by escaping gas, would show here. The pressure is normal for this height.”

“Then pull out and let’s get out of this!” suggested Ned.

“Good advice if we can follow it,” Tom said. “I’ll try.”

“He gave the signal half speed astern, but though the motors tried to back the big dirigible, making her tremble with their power, they did not budge her.

“She’s held fast!” said Tom. “I was afraid of this.”

“What do you think has happened?” Ned wanted to know.

“Nothing serious; that is, to the airship herself,” Tom said. “But we have rammed her nose into a mountain side, and broken trees, rocks, and a tangle of bushes are holding us there.”

“You bucked the tornado!” cried Ned. “Why can’t you rip off the false nose, or fender, if you have to, as long as it won’t damage the gas envelope? Surely you have power enough to pull out of some broken trees!”

“You might think so,” Tom replied. “But did you ever see a big ocean liner made fast to her dock with big hawsers?”

“Of course,” Ned replied.

“Well,” went on the young inventor, “if those hawsers were taut and the liner started her engines, she could never get away from that dock in a thousand years. There must be play enough for her to get some momentum. That’s what we need, momentum. If the liner had a few feet play, or free movement, and could start ahead with her engines at full speed, she’d break those hawsers like thread. But if they hold her tight to the dock, her propellers would only churn the water.

“Now our propellers are only fanning air, so to speak. We can’t get enough movement to make our weight and speed count. What we’ll have to do is to cut loose from the holding tangle of trees.”

“How can we do that?” asked Ned.

“That remains to be seen,” Tom answered. “If this fog would only clear, I could see just what the trouble is.” At this moment Koku, who had been taken along on this trip at his earnest solicitation, came into the cabin, being a sort of privileged character.

“What um wrong, Master?” he asked.

“We ran into trees on the side of the mountain,” Tom answered. “We can’t pull loose. We’re like a football caught in the branches, Koku. We need somebody to give us a push off.”

“Me push!” grunted the giant, flexing his powerful hands and arms.

“By golly, do you know I think he’s got it!” cried Ned.

“Got what?” asked Tom.

“The right idea,” went on the manager. “There’s an exit out of the front end of your gas envelope, isn’t there, Tom? I mean in between the individual gas tank holders?”

“Yes, there’s a passage out through the nose to the mooring ring.”

“Big enough for Koku?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then,” went on Ned, “why not have him go out that way and cut us loose from the tangled, broken trees and bushes that are holding us fast? Koku’s giant strength may get us loose.”

Tom considered this for a moment, seeing the dangers, difficulties, and possibilities. Then he said:

“It’s a chance! Koku, come with me!”

“Sure, Master! Me push—me pull—bust anything!” chuckled the giant.

Passing along amidships through a central tube running the length of the dirigible, Tom, Koku, Ned, and some of the crew emerged on to a small platform in the very nose of the ship. There the cause of the stoppage was plain to be seen, for the fog was now lifting.

The _Silver Cloud_ had rammed her front fender deep into the crotch of a big tree growing on the mountain side. The crotch was partly split down, and the fender was bent and broken. But the actual structure of the airship had sustained no damage. The fender was caught about fifty feet above the ground.

“There, Koku,” said Tom, pointing. “If you can climb out there and pull or chop those two parts of the tree crotch apart, you may free us and we can back out. Are you strong enough?”

“Sure!” grunted the giant. “Me show.”

Armed with a keen axe, Koku crawled out to the very edge of the platform, and went out of the ship through an emergency door. He climbed into the branches, braced his feet against one side of the Y in the tree and his back against the other part, being above the damaged nose fender which was caught fast.

“Now me push!” cried Koku. Supporting himself by his hands, he took a long breath, and those aboard the craft could hear the fibers of the already cracked tree beginning to rend and tear. But still the nose of the ship was held as in a vise. Then he used the axe for several minutes.

“You bust, now!” commanded Koku, and it seemed as if he would break himself so terrific was the strain. “Bust, tree!” he shouted.

The great tree split down farther. The Y shaped opening became wider, and Tom, seeing this, called to a man he had left in the control cabin to signal for full speed astern.

The great propellers whirled, and with a tearing loose of the damaged fender, part of which remained in the tree, the _Silver Cloud_ was at last free.

“What about Koku?” cried Ned, for the giant was left in the tangle of branches.

“I’ll pick him up with a rope ladder,” Tom said. Then he signaled to the giant to climb down and wait on a level place at the foot of the mountain.

It did not take long to ascertain that the dirigible was damaged no more than the tearing away of her nose fender, which in no way interfered with her maneuvering. So a little later, the _Silver Cloud_ hovering low over the level place, Koku was picked up, the fog having been driven away by a rising wind.

“That’s pretty nifty!” Ned remarked, as Tom had the rope ladder lowered from a windlass and drum which wound up the ladder again when Koku was on the lower end. “It saves a lot of climbing.”

“Yes,” Tom said, “I thought he’d be tired after breaking that big tree.”

Koku seemed to think nothing of his remarkable feat, but if it had not been for him it is probable that the craft might have been held there a long time until men with axes could have chopped down the forest giant.

“Well, that’s another adventure to our credit,” Tom said, as they reached the hangar that night. “And it gives me a new idea.”

“What?” asked Ned.

“A nose fender that can be detached and dropped off by pulling a lever from within the ship,” was the answer. “Then if we ram something again we shan’t be held up until Koku can free us.”

So this improvement was added to many others.

During the next week several other trial trips were made, though not to any great distance, and various improvements incorporated in the big craft of the air. Though there were many accounts in the paper of Tom Swift’s dirigible, no word came from the Jardine company.

One day Ned saw Tom carrying a large bouquet of flowers into the officers’ cabin.

“What’s the idea?” asked the manager. “Going to have a christening, Tom?”

“No. These are for Mary.”

“Mary?”

“Yes. I’ve a desire to take a longer trip for this test flight, and sail over Mt. Camon. Then, if all goes well, I’ll drop this bouquet and a note to the folks down by means of a little parachute. I thought it would surprise them.”

“I’ll say it will!” chuckled Ned. “Good for you! When are you going to start?”

“Pretty soon. Coming along?”

“Of course. You’d have to tie me to keep me back.”

At the time agreed upon the _Silver Cloud_ took off in good shape, rose steadily and easily, and was soon soaring on her way to the great forest reserve in the midst of which stood the hotel on Mt. Camon.

“It certainly is dry,” observed Ned, as they flew low over a farming community and saw the arid fields, crops drying up, and, in many instances, farmers hauling water for their horses and cattle.

“I don’t see where the rain is keeping itself,” Tom said. “It’s as dry as a powder horn!”

The aviators made good time, and early that afternoon came in sight of the mountain summit on which the hotel stood.

“There it is!” cried Ned, who first sighted the resort. “Get the bouquet ready, Tom! Say, maybe you could make a landing on the ball field. Why don’t you try?”

Tom turned the helm over to his chum for a moment and began making an observation through his binoculars.