pleadingly:

"Let me tell him, Koku! I know all 'bout it! Let me tell Massa
Tom whut it am, an'--"

"Well, go ahead and tell me!" burst out Tom, with a good-
natured laugh. "Don't keep me in suspense. If there's anything
going on--"

He did not finish the sentence. It was evident that something
of moment was going on, for the crowds in the street were now
running instead of walking, and voices could be heard calling
back and forth such exclamations as:

"Where is it?"

"Must be a big one

"And with this wind it'll be worse!"

Tom glanced at Ned and then at the two servants.

"Has anything happened?" asked the young inventor.

"Dey's a big fire, Massa Tom!" exploded Rad.

"Heap big blaze!" added Koku.

At the same time, out in the street high and clear, the cry
rang out:

"Fire! Fire!"

"Is it any of our buildings?" exclaimed Tom, in his excitement
catching hold of the giant's arm.

"No, it's quite a way off, on de odder side of town," answered
the colored man. "But we t'ought we'd better come an' tell yo',
an'--"

"Yes! Yes! I'm glad you did, Rad. It was perfectly right for
you to tell me! I wish you'd done it sooner, though! Come on,
Ned! Let's go to the blaze! We can finish looking over the
figures another time. Is my father all right, Rad?"

"Yes, suh, Massa Tom, he's done sleepin' good."

"Then don't disturb him. Mr. Newton and I will go to the fire.
I'm glad it isn't here," and Tom looked from a side window out on
many shops that were not a great distance from the house; shops
where he and his father had perfected many inventions.

The buildings had grown up around the old Swift homestead,
which, now that so much industry surrounded it, was not the most
pleasant place to live in. Tom and his father only made this
their stopping place in winter. In the summer they dwelt in a
quiet cottage far removed from the scenes of their industry.

"We'll take the electric runabout, Ned," remarked Tom, as he
caught up a hat from the rack, an example followed by his friend.
Together the young inventor and the financial manager hurried out
to the garage, where Tom soon had in operation a small electric
automobile, that, more than once, had proved its claim to being
the "speediest car on the road."

As they turned out of the driveway into the street they became
aware of great crowds making their way toward a glow of sinister
red light showing in the eastern sky.

"Some blaze!" exclaimed Tom, as he turned on more power.

"You said it!" ejaculated Ned. "Must be a general alarm," he
added, as they caught the sound from the next street of
additional apparatus hurrying to the fire.

"Well, I'm glad it isn't on our side of town," remarked Tom, as
he looked back at the peaceful gloom surrounding and covering his
own home and work buildings.

"Where do you reckon it is?" asked Ned, as they sped onward.

"Hard to say," remarked the young inventor, as he steered to
one side to pass a powerful imported automobile which, however,
did not have the speed of the electric runabout. "A fire at night
is always deceiving as to direction. But we can locate it when we
get to the top of the hill."

Shopton, the suburb of the town where Tom lived, was named so
because of the many shops that had been erected by the industry
of the young inventor and his father. In fact the town was named
Shopton though of late there had been an effort to change the
name of the strictly residential section, which lay over the hill
toward the river.

Tom's car shot up the slope with scarcely any slackening of
speed, and, as he passed a group of men and boys running onward,
Tom shouted:

"Where is it?"

"The fireworks factory!" was the answer.

"Fireworks factory!" cried Ned. "Bad place for a fire!"

"I should say so!" exclaimed Tom.

The chums had become gradually aware of the gale that was
blowing, and, as they reached the summit of the hill and caught
sight of the burning factory, they saw the flames being swept far
out from it and toward a collection of houses on the other side
of a vacant lot that separated the fireworks industrial plant
from the dwellings. As Tom Swift glimpsed the fire, noted its
proportions and the fierceness of the flames, and saw which way
the wind was blowing them, he turned on the power to the utmost.

"What are you doing, Tom?" yelled Ned.

"I'm going down there!" cried Tom. "That place is likely to
explode any minute!"

"Then why go closer?" gasped Ned, for his breath was almost
taken away by the speed of the car, and he had to hold his hat to
keep it from blowing away. "Why don't you play safe?"

"Don't you understand?" shouted Tom in his chum's ear. "The
wind is blowing the fire right toward those houses! Mary Nestor
lives in one of them!"

"Oh--Mary Nestor!" exclaimed Ned. Then he understood--Mary and
Tom were engaged to be married.

"They may be all right," Tom went on. "I can't be sure from
this distance. Or they may be in danger. It's a bad fire and--"

His voice was blotted out in the roar of an explosion which
seemed to hurl back the electric runabout and bring it to a
momentary stop.

CHAPTER II

NO USE OF LIVING!

Only momentarily was Tom Swift halted in his progress toward
the scene of the blaze in the fireworks factory. To him, and to
the chum who sat beside him on the seat of the electric runabout,
it appeared that the blast had actually stopped the progress of
the car. But perhaps that was more their imagination than
anything else, for the machine swept on down the hill, at the
foot of which was the conflagration.

"That was a bad one, Ned!" gasped Tom, as he turned to one side
to pass an engine on its way to the scene of excitement.

"I should say so! Must have been somebody hurt in that
blow-up!"

"I only hope it wasn't Mary or her folks!" murmured Tom. "The
wind is sweeping the fire right that way!"

"What are you going to do, Tom?" yelled his chum, as the
business manager saw the young inventor heading directly for the
blaze. "What's the idea?"

"To rescue Mary, if she's in danger!"

"I'm with you!" was Ned's quick response. "But you can't go any
closer. The police are stretching the fire lines!"

"I guess they'll let me through!" said Tom grimly.

He slowed his car as he approached a place where an officer was
driving back the throng that sought to come closer to the blaze.

"Git back! Git back, I tell you!" stormed the policeman,
pushing against the packed bodies of men and boys. "There'll be
another blow-up in a minute or two, and a lot more of you
killed!"

"Are there any killed?" asked Tom, stopping the car near the
officer.

"I guess so--yes. And some of the houses are catching. Git back
now! You, too, with that car! You'll have to back up!"

"I've got to go through!" replied Tom, with tightening lips.
"I've got to go through, Cassidy!" He knew the officer, and the
latter now seemed, for the first time, to recognize the young
inventor.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Swift?" he exclaimed. "Well, go
ahead. But be careful. 'Tis dangerous there--very dangerous,
an'--"

His voice was lost in the roar of another explosion, not as
loud or severe as the first, but more plainly felt by Tom and
Ned, for they were nearer to it.

"Now will you git back!" cried Policeman Cassidy, and the crowd
did, without further urging.