CHAPTER IX

FENIMORE BEECHER

Had Tom Swift’s giant cannon been discharged somewhere in the vicinity of his home it could have caused but little more astonishment to Mr. Damon and Professor Bumper than did the simple announcement of the young inventor.  The professor seemed to shrink back in his chair, collapsing like an automobile tire when the air is let out.  As for Mr. Damon he jumped up and cried: 

“Bless my——!”

But that is as far as he got—­at least just then.  He did not seem to know what to bless, but he looked as though he would have liked to include most of the universe.

“Surely you don’t mean it, Tom Swift,” gasped Professor Bumper at length.  “Won’t you come with us?”

“No,” said Tom, slowly.  “Really I can’t go.  I’m working on an invention of a new aeroplane stabilizer, and if I go now it will be just at a time when I am within striking distance of success.  And the stabilizer is very much needed.”

“If it’s a question of making a profit on it, Tom,” began Mr. Damon, “I can let you have some money until——­”

“Oh, no!  It isn’t the money!” cried Tom.  “Don’t think that for a moment.  You see the European war has called for the use of a large number of aeroplanes, and as the pilots of them frequently have to fight, and so can not give their whole attention to the machines, some form of automatic stabilizer is needed to prevent them turning turtle, or going off at a wrong tangent.

“So I have been working out a sort of modified gyroscope, and it seems to answer the purpose.  I have already received advance orders for a number of my devices from abroad, and as they are destined to save lives I feel that I ought to keep on with my work.

“I’d like to go, don’t misunderstand me, but I can’t go at this time.  It is out of the question.  If you wait a year, or maybe six months——­”

“No, it is impossible to wait, Tom,” declared Professor Bumper.

“Is it so important then to hurry?” asked Mr. Damon.  “You did not mention that to me, Professor Bumper.”

“No, I did not have time.  There are so many ends to my concerns.  But, Tom Swift, you simply must go!”

“I can’t, my dear professor, much as I should like to.”

“But, Tom, think of it!” cried Mr. Damon, who was as much excited as was the little bald-headed scientist.  “You never saw such an idol of gold as this.  What’s its name?” and he looked questioningly at the professor.

“Quitzel the idol is called,” supplied Professor Bumper.  “And it is supposed to be in a buried city named Kurzon, somewhere in the Sierra de Merendon range of mountains, in the vicinity of the Copan valley.  Copan is a city, or maybe we’ll find it only a town when we get there, and it is not far from the borders of Guatemala.

“Tom, if I could show you the translations I have made of the ancient documents, referring to this idol and the wonderful city over which it kept guard, I’m sure you’d come with us.”