dn't FALL there." spoke Tom quietly. "It was PUT there."

"Put there! Bless my insurance policy! Who did such a dastardly
trick?" cried Mr. Damon.

"I don't know," answered Tom still quietly, "but I suspect it was
Andy Foger, and he was never any nearer to putting us out of
business than a little while ago, Ned."

"Do you mean to say that he deliberately tried to injure you?" asked
Mr. Damon.

"Well, he may not have intended to hurt us, but that's what would
have happened if I hadn't been able to throw her up into the wind
when I did," replied Tom. Then he told of Mr. Swift having seen the
red-haired bully near the aeroplane. "Andy may have only intended to
put my machine out of working order," went on the young inventor,
"but it might have been worse than that," and he could not repress a
shudder.

"Are you going to say anything to him?" asked Ned.

"I certainly am!" replied Torn quickly. "He doesn't realize that he
might have crippled us both for life. I sure am going to say
something to him when I get back."

But Tom did not get the chance, for when he and Ned returned to
Shopton,--the sky racer behaving beautifully on the homeward trip,--it
was learned that Mr. Foger had suddenly left town, taking Andy
with him.

"Maybe he knew I'd be after him," said Tom grimly, and so that
incident was closed for the time being, but it was a long time
before Tom and Ned got over their fright.

They had a nice visit with Mr. Damon, and talked of the city of gold
to their heart's content, looking at several large maps of Mexico
that the eccentric man had procured, and locating, as well as they
could from the meager map and description they had, where the
underground treasures might be.

"I suppose you are getting ready to go, Mr. Damon?" remarked Ned.

"Hush!" cautioned the odd man, looking quickly around the room. "I
haven't said anything to my wife about it yet. You know she doesn't
like me to go off on these 'wild goose chases' as she calls them,
with you, Tom Swift. But bless my railroad ticket! It's half the fun
of my life."

"Then don't you think you can go?" asked the young inventor eagerly,
for he had formed a strong like for Mr. Damon, and would very much
reprait to go without him.

"Oh, bless my necktie! I think I'll be able to manage it," was the
answer. "I'm not going to tell her anything about it until the last
minute, and then I'll promise to bring her back one of the golden
images. She won't object