Once more that inventive brain of Tom Swift’s would startle the world!
CHAPTER XIII
A NIGHT OF TRIUMPH
All his close friends were with Tom in the office on the memorable night when his hopes became certainty. His father, Ned and Mr. Damon had hung breathlessly on his final calculations, and when he at last looked up with the triumphant smile that could mean only one thing, they were almost as jubilant as he and overwhelmed him with congratulations.
“Bless my oil stocks!” cried Mr. Damon, slapping him on the shoulder. “Tom, my boy, you’re a wonder.”
“You’ve got all other inventors tied to the mast and screeching for help,” affirmed Ned, as he wrung his friend’s hand.
“I knew you would do it,” said his father quietly, as he wiped his glasses. And to Tom this calm, affectionate assurance was the sweetest praise of all.
“Are you sure that the patent has been attended to all right?” asked Mr. Damon anxiously.
“You can bet,” answered Tom. “We had a wire from Reid and Crawford, our Washington lawyers, to-day, and they tell us that everything is O. K. It doesn’t infringe on any previous patent, and the idea of the drill is entirely new. The lawyers themselves think it’s great.”
“The next thing, I suppose,” went on Mr. Damon, “will be to get in touch with some of the big companies, tell them what your drill can do, give them a demonstration and then lean back and let them bid against each other.”
“N-no,” replied Tom thoughtfully, “I don’t think that will be the next thing. I’m not quite ready for that.”