Jane was not Pop's only ward. Within a month after she had come to live in New York, Tom Swift broke the long years of silence and wrote to Pop. Things were still not breaking right for him, Tom said. For years he had been living a hand-to-mouth existence in various parts of the country, earning just enough to support himself and his son, Harold, now a boy of twelve years. His baseball ability seemingly left him when he was released from the New York team. He gave up the game after two years in the minor leagues and tried to learn several trades, to little avail.
Now he had an opportunity to join a company that operated nitrate mines in Chile and wanted to send him there. The pay was high, because it was difficult to find men willing to go down there and endure the hardships involved. But, Swift felt, it was his last chance and he was eager to accept it. The one thing causing him to hesitate was Harold. He did not want to take the boy with him. First, there was the expense involved and then, he knew, Chile and the life he would be forced to lead there would not be good for a boy of twelve. He wondered if Pop would be willing to allow the boy to come to New York and live with him until Harold was old enough to get out and make his own way. The older Swift would, he promised, make periodical remittances of money for the boy's keep as soon as he got settled in Chile.
"He's a good, bright boy," Swift wrote. "Mischievous and maybe a little rattle-brained, but what healthy youngster isn't? He claims he's going to
