Out into the glare of the great searchlight ran Mr. Damon, followed by his wife and several of the servants.
"There it is!" cried the odd man. "There's the meteor!"
"First we're a comet and then we're a meteor," said Ned with a laugh.
"Oh. I hope it doesn't bury itself in the earth before I can get Tom Swift here!" went on Mr. Damon, capering about. "Bless my telephone book. I must call him up right away!"
"I'm here now, Mr. Damon!" shouted Tom, as he alighted from the airship. "That's my new searchlight you're looking at."
"Bless my--" began Mr. Damon, but he couldn't think of nothing strong enough for a moment, until he blurted out "dynamite cartridge! Bless my dynamite cartridge! Tom Swift! His searchlight! Bless my nitro-glycerine!"
Then Tom shut off the glare, and, as Mr. Damon and his wife came aboard he showed them how the light worked. He only used a part of the current, as he knew if he put on the full glare toward Mr. Damon's house, neighbors might think it was on fire.
"Well, that's certainly wonderful," said Mrs. Damon. "In fact this is a wonderful ship."
"Can't you take Mrs. Damon about, and show her how it works," said Mr. Damon suddenly. "Show her the ship."
"I will," volunteered Tom.