"Bless my hat-band!" gasped Mr. Damon. "You—you are getting on my nerves!"
"I don't want to be a calamity howler," went on the foreman; "but we've got to face this thing. We'd better get ready to vamoose if Tom Swift doesn't reach here in time to fire that shot—and he doesn't seem to be in sight."
Once more Ned swept the sky with his glasses. The roar of the water below them could be plainly heard now.
"I wish I could get hold of that rascally German," muttered the foreman. "I'd give him more than a piece of my mind. It will be his fault if the town is destroyed, for Tom's plan would have saved it. I wonder who he can be, anyhow?"
"Some spy," declared Ned. "We've been having trouble right along, you know, and this is part of the game. I have some suspicions, but Tom doesn't agree with me. Certainly the fellow, whatever his object, has made trouble enough this time."
"I should say so," agreed the foreman.
"Look, Ned!" cried Mr. Damon. "Is that a bird; or is it Tom?" and he pointed to a speck in the sky. Ned quickly focused his glasses on it.
"It's Tom!" he cried a second later. "It's Tom in the Humming Bird!"
