damage. Guess I'd better go out and take a look."
He had mentally reasoned this far before he had looked out, and when he saw that the moon was brightly shining in a clear sky, he was a bit surprised.
"Why—that wasn't hail," he murmured. "It isn't even raining. I wonder what it was?"
He was answered a moment later, for a shower of fine gravel from the walk flew up and clattered against the glass. With a start, Tom looked down, and saw a dark figure standing under an apple tree.
"Hello! Who's there?" called the lad, after he had raised the sash.
"It's I—Mr. Jenks," was the surprising answer.
"Mr. Jenks?" repeated Tom.
"Yes—Barcoe Jenks, of Earthquake Island."
"You here? What do you want?"
"Can you come down?"
"What for?"
"Tom Swift, I've something very important to tell you," was the answer in a low voice, yet which carried to Tom's ears perfectly. "Do you want to make a fortune for yourself—and for me?"
