CHAPTER V

THE STRANGE DWARF

WITH a suddenness that showed how completely he had been taken by surprise, the figure that had been burrowing under the fence slipped from the hole partly dug beneath the barrier and stood upright at the side of the road.

“Why, Tom, he’s only a boy!” exclaimed Mary. “Look!” and she gazed a little reproachfully at her husband because of the rather harsh words he had used toward the intruder.

“A boy!” exclaimed the young inventor.

“Yes,” answered Mary. “He probably lost a ball over your big fence and he wanted to crawl under to get it.”

“If he’s a boy, I’m an infant in arms,” chuckled Tom. “His ball days were over long ago. There’s something queer going on here,” he said in a lower voice. “That’s a dwarf, Mary. A man dwarf!”

Then Mary saw that, indeed, this was so. The fellow was a dwarf, and not a pleasant one, either.

“What’s the game?” asked Tom, as the short, squatty fellow, powerful in build, but only a boy in height, waddled, rather than walked, toward the House on Wheels.

“Game?” questioned the dwarf in surly tones. “I wasn’t playing any game.”

“It looked so,” went on Tom. “Why were you trying to crawl under the fence? There’s no game inside there, and if you lost your golf ball you’ll have to let it go. What’s the idea?”

“Do I have to tell you?” The dwarf’s voice was surly.

“Well, seeing that this is my place and my fence, I don’t think it’s out of order to ask why you’re burrowing under it,” and Tom let a note of sarcasm inject itself.

“Oh, you’re Mr. Swift, are you?” and the manner of the dwarf changed as if by magic. “Well, I beg your pardon. I have a message for you.”

“A message for me?” exclaimed Tom, in surprise.

“Yes, a letter.”

“Well, the least I can say is that this is a queer way to deliver it. Why didn’t you go around to the entrance and see the watchman? Where is this letter?”

Tom’s voice showed his disbelief. The stopping of the House on Wheels and the talk had brought Mr. Swift and the Nestors from where they were conversing on the rear observation platform to the little vestibule behind the front seat where Tom and Mary rode.

“What is it, Tom?” asked his father.

“I found this—this man trying to get under our fence,” the young inventor answered. “He says he was coming in to hand me a letter. But——”

“And here’s the letter, Mr. Swift,” the dwarf broke in, waddling closer to the auto and reaching up with an envelope in his hand. He was not tall enough, and Tom could not stoop low enough to get the missive, so the young inventor descended from his seat, first making sure that there was no chance for an ambush.

For Tom Swift had a distinctly unpleasant feeling, one not unmixed with apprehension, at the sight of the dwarf, a feeling which was increased by what the fellow was doing and his surly manner. This, coupled with Ned Newton’s suspicion of Martin Jardine, made Tom careful.

More than once in the past some clever tricks had been worked against Tom Swift and his father, and he was well aware that all their enemies were not disposed of. This dwarf, however, was a new one.

To Tom’s surprise, the letter was not only addressed to him, but was in an envelope bearing the imprint of the Jardine company which had its headquarters in a large city not far off.

“Read it,” urged the dwarf, with what passed for a smile on his queer face, a man’s face on a boy’s body.

“All right,” Tom assented, after turning the missive over. The envelope contained but a single sheet of paper and a hasty look at the bottom showed that it was signed by Martin Jardine. The letter said:

“Dear Mr. Swift: This will introduce to you a very clever little man—a dwarf as you will see—by name James Chock. I have known him for some time. I think you will find him very useful when you get to flying the _Silver Cloud_. Jim, as I call him, is very powerful, but small. He can get into the tight corners of the dirigible and be of service in that way in case we have to make repairs when sailing. I am sending him to you with the suggestion that you hire him and keep him until we are ready to get in the air. Then make him a member of the crew. You will find him rather eccentric but reliable. He is a great contrast to your giant Koku, isn’t he?”

Tom read the letter twice, and then said:

“Humph!”

“Is it all right, dear?” asked Mary anxiously.

“Seems to be,” Tom answered, as he passed the letter to his father. Then addressing the dwarf he said:

“I certainly didn’t intend to speak harshly to you, Mr. Chock——”

“Call me Jim. Everybody does,” interrupted the dwarf, with one of his grotesque smiles. “You won’t hurt my feelings. But you did give me a start.”

“And you greatly surprised me by burrowing under my fence,” Tom said more genially. “What’s the idea? Why didn’t you go around to the gate and hand in this letter for me?”

“Too far,” said the dwarf, with an uncanny chuckle. “My legs are short and it takes me twice as long to walk a mile as it would you. I didn’t want to go all the way around to the gate, so I started to crawl under your fence. I didn’t think there was any harm.”

“There might have been some harm to you,” Tom stated rather grimly. “Usually both the upper and lower edges of my fence are guarded by a wire carrying a heavy charge of electricity. It just happens the juice is off now, or you might have been tied in a double bowknot as you dug under.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t!” chuckled the dwarf. “I can’t stand being shrunk any more. But I didn’t mean any harm. I was taking the shortest way on account of my legs. I couldn’t climb over your fence, Mr. Swift, so I had to go under. Excuse me!”

“All right,” Tom said. “You seem to have the proper credentials. What about it, Dad?” he asked his father, who had read the note.

“Well,” said Mr. Swift, “this is up to Jardine. If he wants this little man aboard the craft he is paying for, I don’t see that we can object. As he says in the letter, this Mr. Chock may be useful getting into corners. Send him on to the works, Tom. But,” he added in a low voice, “send word to have him watched. Don’t take any chances.”

“I won’t,” said Tom, in a voice equally low. Then to the dwarf he said: “All right, Jim. Take this letter to Mr. Jackson. He’s my foreman. Tell him I’ve seen it.”

“You’d better make an endorsement on the note to that effect, Mr. Swift,” said the dwarf, thus showing he had some business sense. “Mr. Jackson might not take my word that you had seen me and had read Mr. Jardine’s note. Especially if any of your men see me crawling in under the fence.”

“I wouldn’t go in that way if I were you,” and Tom spoke gravely. “Go around by the main gate. I’ll write a line on this note. By the way, where is Mr. Jardine? I haven’t seen him these last two days.”

“He’s very busy,” the dwarf said. “That’s why he sent me with this note instead of bringing me around personally. I have worked in his oralum factory,” he said. “I’m a good machinist and I can get in places other men can’t.”

“That’s so,” admitted Tom, writing a brief note to his foreman on the back of Jardine’s letter. “Well, you may be of use to us. But next time please don’t come in like a boy under a fence at a ball game. It’s rather unusual and may be dangerous.”

“I like to do unusual things,” chuckled the dwarf in a rather strange voice—a man’s tones coming from a child’s body. “But it’s a long way around to your front gate,” he said, rather wistfully.

“Oh, Tom, don’t make him walk all the way back,” urged Mary, in a low voice. “It’s such a hot day and so far. We aren’t in any hurry. Turn the House back!”

“Well,” Tom began, “I suppose——” Just then he saw a flivver containing one of his workmen who had been to the neighboring city of Mansburg for some supplies coming down the road. The workman was on his way back to the factory.

“Here, Kelly, take Mr. Chock to the works with you,” Tom requested, halting his man. “He has a letter for Mr. Jackson.”

“All right, Mr. Swift,” Kelly answered. “Hop in, son,” he went on, evidently thinking the dwarf was a boy. “Oh!” he exclaimed, when he saw his mistake.

“All right, Kelly, step on it!” chuckled the uncanny little fellow, as he scrambled nimbly up to a seat beside the workman. With a farewell wave of his hand containing the endorsed letter of introduction he was off down the road, calling back:

“See you later, Mr. Swift!”

“That’s rather a queer proceeding,” remarked Mr. Nestor.

“A little too queer,” commented Tom. “But maybe it’s all right.”

“Poor fellow!” murmured Mary. “It must be hard to go through life as he is.”

“He seemed jolly enough,” Mrs. Nestor said. “I think he could make money in a circus.”

“Do you think that letter was genuine, Tom?” asked his father.

“Oh, yes. It was Jardine’s signature, and we can easily check up on it. I’ll get word to Jackson before that dwarf arrives.”

“Are you going back, Tom?” Mary asked.

“No,” the young inventor answered. “I can telephone to him from here.” He went to a place in the high fence where there was a telephone outlet. This was one of several in the barrier about the Swift plant. Tom carried a portable telephone in his House on Wheels and he was soon in communication with Mr. Jackson, telling him of the occurrence.

“Put the dwarf to work, but watch him,” was Tom’s final instruction. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“All right, Mr. Swift,” the foreman said. “Kelly hasn’t come in yet with this bird you speak of, but I’ll be on the watch. Don’t worry.”

Nevertheless, Tom Swift did worry a bit. It seemed very strange that Martin Jardine would send such a dwarf to be taken up in _Silver Cloud_ when that great dirigible should be ready to sail. Yet there was reason in the request.

“Only I didn’t like his crawling under the fence,” Tom said, as he talked his doubts over with Mary and the others while they journeyed along in the House on Wheels.

“Oh, I think he showed good sense,” Mary said. “He knew he had a proper letter of introduction and that everything was in order.”

“If the current had been on the lower wire,” remarked Tom grimly, “everything would have been in disorder for a while. Well, maybe it’s all right. I’ll see Jardine when I get back and make sure.”

“Aren’t you going to stay with us at Mt. Camon, Tom?” asked Mrs. Nestor.

“Only a few days this time,” was the answer. “I must get back and rush work on the dirigible. After that is finished I’ll spend the rest of the summer up there resting.”

“It will be lovely,” Mary said, leaning against him as he drove the big car rapidly over the road.

They stopped for lunch at a pretty little tea room, for, though they could well have cooked in the House on Wheels, for they had supplies with them, it was decided not to take the time to do their own cooking just now. After a rest, they went on again, planning to stop at a hotel if night found them near one, or if not, to camp out in the House on Wheels, which was equipped with comfortable beds.

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and they were some miles from a city where they might stop if they wished when, as they went around a turn in the road, they saw just ahead of them a small auto van which had come to grief.

The van, built on the chassis of a flivver, was turned on its side. Standing looking at it were a man and a woman, both young and evidently Italians. The man, with a gesture of despair as Tom and his friends approached, said pathetically:

“Well, Maria, this is the end!”

“So it seems, Pietro,” said the woman, or rather, girl, for she was no older than Tom’s wife. “Oh, what are we to do?” There were tears in her voice and tears in her eyes as Tom Swift and his friends plainly saw when the House on Wheels was stopped opposite the overturned van.

“What’s the matter?” Tom asked. “You’ve had an accident—I can see that,” he went on. “Is anybody hurt?”

“I am much afraid so,” answered the man. “All my poor children are in there, and I much fear that some have been crushed!”

“Oh, how terrible!” cried Mary.

“Come on, Dad! Mr. Nestor! We’ve got to help those children!” cried Tom, springing from his seat, followed by the two men.