Tom Swift and His House on Wheels: A Trip to the Mountain of Mystery
9781465524201
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Tom Swift, with a negative shake of his head, shoved several papers across the table that separated him from a burly, red-faced man whose eyes narrowly observed the young inventor. "Then you refuse this contract, Mr. Swift—a contract for constructing over one hundred thousand dollars' worth of machinery on which you can make a handsome profit? You absolutely refuse it?" The red-faced man in his eagerness was leaning forward now. "Yes, Mr. Cunningham, I refuse!" was Tom's crisp answer. "The Swift Construction Company does not care to handle it." Mr. Barton Swift, father of the young man who thus calmly turned down what seemed like a good business proposition, nodded in affirmation of what his son had said. "Is that your last word?" asked Basil Cunningham, who plainly showed his English ancestry, not only in his face and figure but in his general bearing and manner. "This refusal is final?" he inquired. "Quite final and complete," answered Tom, as he added another document to the pile of those he had pushed toward his visitor. They were blue prints, specifications, and contract forms, but they all went across the table. "The matter is closed." "But, look here! I say, now!" and Mr. Cunningham began to wax excited, not to say wroth. "I can't understand——" "Do you mean to say you don't understand English?" asked Mr. Swift, and the smile on the face of the aged inventor took away whatever sting there might otherwise have been in the words. "I thought my son spoke very plainly. He said 'no,' and that's what he means." "But look here, Mr. Swift! Do you agree with him?" "Absolutely!" "And you won't consider the contracts further?" "The matter is closed, I told you!" and Tom Swift's voice was a bit sharp now. With an imperious gesture the burly Englishman gathered up his papers and began to stuff them into a leather brief case bulging with other documents. If possible the red of his face deepened. "Well," he began, "of all the——" Tom Swift looked up sharply. He was on the verge of saying something that, he himself admitted, he might later have been sorry for when the door of the private office opened and a veritable giant of a man fairly squeezed his way through the doorway. "What is it, Koku?" asked Tom, not quite pleased with such an interruption at this time. "Excuse, Master," murmured the foreign giant, whose struggle with a strange tongue sometimes got the best of him. "But new engine him have come an' Mr. Jackson say him got to be lift up—so I lift if you want." As if to demonstrate his strength, the giant put one finger under the edge of the heavy table around which the three men sat and, with as much ease as if he were lifting a feather, tilted it. "My word, man! Don't do that!" cried Mr. Cunningham, for one of his feet was close to the leg of the table and he evidently feared the weight would come down on his toes when Koku let go. "Don't worry," said Tom, with a smile. "Koku won't drop it." Fascinated by this remarkable exhibition of strength, by which the giant raised several hundred pounds on one finger, the Englishman started to move from his proximity to Koku. But there was no need of alarm, though the timely entrance of Tom Swift's gigantic henchman had evidently stopped a tirade that was on the lips of the visitor. "That will do, Koku," said Tom, in a low voice. "I will see Mr. Jackson shortly and look at the new engine." "Yes, Master," murmured the giant, whose whisper, however, was a hoarse bellow in contrast with others. Koku took himself out and Cunningham, staring at the closed door as though he could not believe what he had seen, continued to stuff his rejected contracts into his case. "I'm sorry about this," said the Englishman in more subdued tones than he had used before the advent of Koku. "I'm not only sorry, but I'm disappointed and I think I haven't been fairly treated." His anger was rising again, that was evident.
