“That’s what I want to do before I die, boss,” murmured the tramp. “I want to ride in an airship.” “Well, if we rescue my friend through your help, I’ll see that you have your wish,” promised the head of the Swift plant. “It’s easily done.” “Gee, boss, but I sure would love that!” murmured Bill Tagg. “Airship—him lots good!” grunted Koku, who sat stolidly on the rear seat with the tramp, listening to the talk. Koku was not much given to conversation, but when it came to fighting he was as wide awake and as lively as heart could wish. Tom had brought the giant along in case there should be a fight, which seemed likely. Men who go to the length of kidnapping seldom stop there in their desperate ventures. “Lots good—airships!” rumbled Koku in his deep voice. “You ought to know. You came from your country of giants in one,” chuckled Mr. Damon, for he well remembered that exciting trip, the details of which will be found set down in another volume. Tom knew the road to Cherry Valley, and it did not take long, in his speedy car, to arrive in the vicinity. The entrance to the valley led up a long hill, and the car was half way over this rather stiff climb when there was a sudden grinding noise from the machinery and the runabout stopped. “Something wrong!” cried Mr. Damon. “Sounds that way,” admitted Tom as he made a quick turn and let the car back slowly down against a tree at the side of the road where it was held safely from rolling farther in case the brakes did not hold. In an instant the young inventor was out and peering into the interior of his runabout. “Dirty work here!” he exclaimed as he pulled out a twisted piece of metal. “See what was in the gears!” “What?” asked Mr. Damon, who did not know much about machinery, as you can guess when you read how he managed the first motorcycle he bought. “What is it?” “A screw driver!” exclaimed Tom. “It was put in here, suspended on a piece of rope in such a manner that the rope would gradually wear through, letting the screw driver drop into the gears. And that’s just what happened! One set of gears is chewed to nothing!” “That’s bad!” said Mr. Damon. His scant knowledge of machinery was sufficient for him to understand that something vitally wrong had happened to the car, even if the serious look on Tom’s face had not informed him of the same fact. “How did it happen?” “It didn’t happen—it was caused!” was the answer. “Some one, just before we started out, suspended this screw driver in the gear box knowing that after we had run a few miles the rope would wear through and the thing would drop. Dirty work!” “You seem to be getting a lot of bad breaks lately, Tom,” said the odd man. “Who do you suppose did this?” “I think it’s the same man I suspect of other things,” was the reply. “I’m going to find out.” “Are we stuck, Tom? Can’t we go on and rescue Ned?” Mr. Damon inquired.