It rumbled and shook as
though a distant train were passing, and yet there was none
due now, for Mr. Nestor had just left one, and another would
not arrive for an hour.
"That's queer," mused Mary's father. "If I didn't know to
the contrary, I'd say that sounded like heavy guns being
fired from a distance, or else blasting. It seems to come
from the Swift place," he went on. "I wonder what they're up
to in there."
Suddenly the rumbling became more pronounced, and mingled
with it, in the dusk of the evening, were the shouts of men.
"Look out!" some one cried. "She's going for the fence!"
A second later there was a cracking and straining of
boards, and the fence near Mr. Nestor bulged out as though
something big, powerful and mighty were pressing it from the
inner side.
But the fence held, or else the pressure was removed, for
the bulge went back into place, though some of the boards
were splintered.
"Have to patch that up in the morning," called another
voice, and Mr. Nestor recognized it as that of Tom Swift.
"What queer doings are going on here?" mused Mary's
father.
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