ow to present myself."

As he walked up the front path of the house, he was met by one of
the gardeners, who was raking up the leaves.

"Is this the airship place?" asked the miner.

"Yes, that's where the young master is making his triplane,"
answered the man.

"Is he in?"

"Yes, I guess so. You can walk right back to the shed."

The miner did so. Through the open door of the building he had a
glimpse of big stretches of wings, propellers, rudders, and some
machinery.

"That's it," he murmured, "though it looks some different than I
remembered it. However, maybe Tom's changed it about. I wonder where
he is?"

As he spoke a lad came from the shed to meet him--a lad on whose
face there was a look of suspicion.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"I'm lookin' for Tom Swift," was the simple reply. "But I take it
you're one of his partners in this airship business. I guess he must
have told you about me. I'm Abe Abercrombie, the miner, and I've
come to show him the way to that valley of gold in Alaska."

At the mention of Tom Swift's name, Andy Foger, for it was he, had
started to utter a denial. But, at the next words of the miner, and
as Mr. Abercrombie mentioned "gold" and "Alaska," there came a
cunning look over Andy's face.

"Tom Swift isn't here just now," he said, wondering how he could
turn to advantage the unexpected visit, and the impending
information that the guileless old man was about to give under the
mistaken idea that Andy was Tom's friend.

"That's all right, I reckon he'll be along presently. You'll do just
as well, I reckon. You're in partnership with him, I take it. So
this is the place where he makes his airships, eh? It's a big one,"
and Mr. Abercrombie looked in at the odd triplane of Andy's--for the
airship was almost finished.

"But it'll need to be big if we're to go to Alaska in it," went on
the miner. "It's quite a journey t' th' valley where th' gold is. No
way t' get t' it except by an airship. An' here I be an' ready to
start, I've brought th' map of th' place, jest as I promised. Here
it is, better take good care of it. Now, let's talk business," and
the miner, having guilelessly handed Andy Foger a folded parchment,
sat down on a box at the door of the airship shed, and placed his
heavy valise on the ground beside him.

"What's this?" asked the bully, wondering whether he had heard
aright.

"It's the map of th' valley of gold--directions how t' git there,
an' all that