Efforts were made to get laborers from another section of the country, but without effect.The contractors heard of a big force of Italians who had finished work on a railroad about a hundred miles away, and they were offered places in the tunnel.But they would not come.
"Well, we may as well give up," said Walter, despondently, to his brother one day."We'll never get the tunnel done on time now.""We still have a margin of safety," declared job."If we could get the men inside of a couple of weeks, and if Tom's new powder rips out more rock, we'll finish in time.""Yes, but there are too many ifs.We may as well admit we've failed." "I'll never do that!""What will you do?" But Job did not know.
"If we could git a gang of min from the ould sod--th' kind I used t' work wit in N'Yark," said Tim Sullivan, "I'd show yez whot could be done! We'd make th' rock fly!"But that efficient labor was out of the question now.The tunnel camp was a deserted place.
"Come on, Koku, we'll go hunting," said Tom one day."There's no use hanging around here, and some venison wouldn't go bad on the table.""I'll come, too," said Mr.Damon."I haven't anything to do."The Titus brothers had gone to a distant village, on the forlorn hope of getting laborers, so Tom was left to his own devices, and he decided to go hunting with his electric rifle.
The taruco, or native deer, had been plentiful in the vicinity of the tunnel until the presence of so many men and the frequent blasts had driven them farther off, and it was not until after a tramp of several miles that Tom saw one.Then, after stalking it a little way, he managed to kill it with the electric rifle.
Koku hoisted the animal to his big shoulders, and, as this would provide meat enough for some time, Tom started back for camp.
As he and Mr.Damon, with Koku in the rear, passed through a little clearing, they saw, on the far side, a native hut.And from it rushed awoman, who approached Tom, casting herself on her knees, while she pressed his free hand to her head.
"Bless my scarf pin!" exclaimed Mr.Damon."What does this mean, Tom?""Oh, this is the mother of the child I saved from the condor," said Tom."Every time she sees me she thanks me all over again.How is the baby?" he asked in the Indian tongue, for he was a fair master of it by now.
"The baby is well.Will the mighty hunter permit himself to enter my miserable hovel and partake of some milk and cakes?""What do you say, Mr.Damon?" Tom asked."She's clean and neat, and she makes a drink of goat's milk that isn't bad.She bakes some kind of meal cakes that are good, too.I'm hungry.""All right, Tom, I'll do as you say."
A little later they were partaking of a rude, but none the less welcome, lunch in the woman's hut, while the baby whose life Tom had saved cooed in the rough log cradle.
"Say, Masni," asked Tom, addressing the woman by name, "don't you know where we can get some men to work the tunnel?" Of course Tom spoke the Indian language, and he had to adapt himself to the comprehension of Masni.
"Men no work tunnel?" she inquired.
"No, they've all skipped out--vamoosed.Afraid of some spirit."The woman looked around, as though in fear.Then she approached Tom closely and whispered:
"No spirit in tunnel--bad man!"
"What!" cried Tom, almost jumping off his stool."What do you mean, Masni?""Me tell mighty hunter," she went on, lowering her voice still more."My man he no want to tell, he 'fraid, but I tell.Mighty hunter save Vashni," and she looked toward the baby."Me help friends of mighty hunter.Bad man in tunnel-- no spirit!
"Men go.Spirit no take um--bad man take um.""Where are they now?" asked Tom."Jove, if I could find them the secret would be solved!"The woman looked fearfully around the hut and then whispered: "You come--me show!""Bless my toothbrush!" cried Mr.Damon."What is going to happen, Tom Swift?""I don't know," was the answer, "but something sure is in the wind.I guess I shot better than I knew when I killed that condor."
