"Tom! Tom! Where are you?"
It was the voice of Mr. Sharp. Then followed the tones of the aged inventor.
"My poor boy! Tom, are you still alive?"
"Yes, dad! In the starboard tank!" the lad gasped out, and then he lost his senses. When he revived he was lying on a pile of bagging in the submarine shop, and his father and the aeronaut were bending over him.
"Are you all right, Tom?" asked Mr. Swift.
"Yes—I—I guess so," was the hesitating answer. "Yes," the lad added, as the fresh air cleared his head. "I'll be all right pretty soon. Have you seen Andy Foger?"
"Did he shut you in there?" demanded Mr. Swift.
Tom nodded.
"I'll have him arrested!" declared Mr. Swift. "I'll go to town as soon as you're in good shape again and notify the police."
"No, don't," pleaded Tom. "I'll take care of Andy myself. I don't really believe he knew how serious it was. I'll settle with him later, though."