t was Blakeson, all right! Bless
my foot-warmer! What do you suppose he is doing around here?"

"I don't know, Mr. Damon, but I'd give a good deal to know. It isn't
any good, I'll wager on that. He didn't seem to know me or you,
either--unless he did and didn't let on. I suppose it was because of
my goggles--and you were gazing up in the air most of the time. I don't
think he knew either of us."

"It didn't seem so, Tom. But what is he doing here? Do you think he is
working at the army camp, or helping make Liberty Motors for the
aircraft that are going to beat the Germans?"

"Hardly. He didn't seem to be connected with the camp. He wanted a
mechanic, and hinted that I might do. Jove! if he really didn't know
who I was, and finds out, say! won't he be surprised?"

"Rather," agreed Mr Damon. "Well, Tom, I had a nice little ride. And
now I must be getting back. But if you contemplate a trip anywhere,
don't forget to let me know."

"I don't count on going anywhere soon," Tom answered. "I have something
on hand that will occupy all my time, though I don't just like it.
However, I'm going to do my best," and he waved good-bye to Mr. Damon,
who went off blessing various parts of his anatomy or clothing, an odd
habit he had.

As Tom turned to go into the house, the unsettled look still on his
face, some one hailed him.

"I say, Tom. Hello! Wait a minute! I've got something to show you!"

"Oh, hello, Ned Newton!" Called back the young inventor. "Well, if
it's Liberty Bonds, you don't need to show me any, for dad and I will
buy all we can without seeing them."

"I know that, Tom, and it was a dandy subscription you gave me. I
didn't come about that, though I may be around the next time Uncle Sam
wants the people to dig down in their socks. This is something
different," and Ned Newton, a young banker of Shopton and a lifelong
friend of Tom's, drew a paper from his pocket as he advanced across the
lawn.

"There, Tom Swift!" he cried, flipping out an illustrated page,
evidently from some illustrated newspaper. "There's the very latest
from the other side. A London banker friend of mine sent it to me, and
it got past the censor all right. It's the first authentic photograph
of the newest and biggest British tank. Isn't that a wonder?"

Ned held up the paper which had in it a fullpage photograph of a
monster tank--those weird machines traveling on endless steel belts of
caterpillar construction, armored, riveted and