Tom got the wireless apparatus to working and after some difficulty succeeded in establishing communication with his home, where he talked to Mrs. Baggert. “Your father is lying down, taking a nap,” reported the housekeeper. “Yes, he’s all right. But a queer message came in over the local office telephone a little while ago, Tom. Wait, I’ll repeat it to you. I answered, because no one else was around, and I heard a voice saying: ‘Tell Tom Swift not to count his chickens before they’re hatched!’ And then a man’s voice laughed. I tried to find out who it was and where the message came from, but I couldn’t.” “Oh, well, don’t worry about it,” Tom advised Mrs. Baggert, though he himself felt not a little anxious. “They’re still up to their old tricks, Ned,” Tom reported to his financial manager. “Well, they can’t get at us while we’re up here,” Ned answered. “No, but we aren’t at San Francisco yet, and something may happen there,” Tom replied. “I do hope they won’t make any more trouble for Dad.” “He will be well looked after by Mrs. Baggert and the others,” was Ned’s consoling reply. On and on roared the _Osprey_, like the great hawk whose name she bore, winging her way toward the great open space of the Pacific. The hours rolled around, and they were crossing a wild and desolate rocky region when suddenly the comparative stillness was broken by a loud, booming sound, as if of an explosion. “What’s that?” exclaimed Ned, and Tom, who was making a log record of the trip, looked up apprehensively. “Thunder!” answered Mr. Damon, who was sitting near one of the observation windows. “I just saw a flash of lightning. I guess we’re running into a storm.” There was no doubt of it a few moments later. With the _Osprey_ rushing forward and the mountain storm coming to meet the craft, it was only a short time before the airline express was in the midst of a violent outburst of the elements. “Whew, this is fierce!” cried Tom, as there came a blinding flash, followed by a terrific clap, and then, almost immediately after, by a shower of rain as if a cloud had burst above them. CHAPTER XXI THE GOLDEN GATE Caught in the very center of a fierce mountain storm, the _Osprey_ was now battling her way above the jagged and towering peaks of the Rockies, fighting for every inch in an endeavor to reach San Francisco within the stipulated time. Though by the clock there were several hours of daylight still remaining, it was so dark and gloomy in the stormy mountain region that it seemed as if night had fallen.