"Your father."
"Come on," and Tom led the way back to the house. "I'll
have a look at that document, which of course I never wrote,
and then we'll get after the plotters and the tank."
"She ought to be easy to trace," observed Mr. Damon.
"Bless my fountain pen, but she ought to be easy to trace!
She will leave a track like a giant boa constrictor crawling
along."
"Yes, I guess we can trace her, all right," assented Tom
Swift; "but the point is, will there be anything left of
her? What's what I'm afraid of now."
Mr. Swift was still excited, but his worry had subsided as
soon as he knew Tom was safe.
"The whole thing is a forgery, but fairly well done," Tom
said, as he looked at the paper his father gave him--a brief
note stating that Tom was well, but detained on business,
and that the tank was to be brought to him, just where the
bearer of the note would indicate. Koku, the giant, and
several of the machinists, who knew how to operate the big
machine, were to go with it, the note said.
"That made me sure everything was all right," said Mr.
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