“Aw right,” he murmured. He put the massive brass-bound chest down in the middle of the room, the keys, which were tied to the padlocks, jingling and clanking as he did so. Then, as the giant left the room, Ned drew his head in from the window and remarked:
“There are two huskies down there, dusting off their clothes and looking indignant.”
“Just as I thought,” groaned Tom. “I’ll have another demand on me for monetary damages on account of Koku’s confounded zeal in my behalf. Here, Ned, run down with these cigars, like a good chap, and stave off the row, will you?”
“Sure, Tom!” The young manager grabbed a handful of cigars from a box some one had sent Tom, but which the young inventor never used, and hurried out.
Meanwhile Tom Swift, left to himself, walked over to the great new chest, and, cutting loose the keys, fitted them into the locks, there being two, and threw back the cover.
“This will hold the most valuable of my secrets until I can get the concrete storage vault made,” he remarked.
He was still looking at and admiring the chest when Ned came back. In his hand the young man still held the cigars.
“Wouldn’t they take them?” asked Tom quickly.
“I didn’t get a chance to give them the smokes,” was the answer. “Just as I got down there Koku came out the back door, and you should have seen those fellows make a dash for their truck. They’re breaking the speed laws yet, I reckon,” and Ned sat down in a chair and laughed heartily. “They seem to have had enough of Koku’s pushes, Tom.”
“Hang it all!” muttered Tom. “Well, I’ll have to square those fellows next time I see them. Maybe they won’t make any trouble.”