my watch chain—it's Tom Swift! Bless my cigar case, I"
"He's all right!" cried Tom, joyfully. "When Mr. Damon blesses something beside his tombstone he's all right."
Peters and Boylan soon revived, both being merely stunned, as was Mr. Damon. They looked about in wonder, and then, feeling that they were prisoners, resigned themselves to their fate. Both men were shabbily dressed, and Tom would hardly have known the once spick and span Mr. Peters. He had no rose in his buttonhole now.
"Well, you have me, I see," he said, coolly. "I was afraid we were playing for too high a stake."
"Yes we've got you," replied Tom.
"But you can't prove much against me," went on Peters. "I'll deny everything."
"We'll see about that," added the young inventor, grimly, and thought of the picture, the plate and the record on the wax cylinder.
"We've got to get Mr. Damon to some place where he can be looked after," broke in Mr. Halling. "Then we'll hear the story."
A passing farmer was prevailed on to take the party in his big wagon to the nearest town, Mr. Halling going on ahead in his airship. Tom's craft could not be moved, being badly damaged.
