“Yes, they mean business; but so do I!” cried Tom in a ringing voice. “The question is who means the most business. You don’t want me to quit, do you, Dad?”
“No, Tom, I can’t say I do. Yet I want you to be careful.”
“What’s your idea, Ned? Should I knuckle under to these scoundrels and tell them I’ll throw overboard the machine I’ve been working on so hard for the last year? Shall I admit I’m beaten?”
For a moment Ned Newton did not answer. Then something of Tom’s ringing spirit was communicated and, banging his fist on the table with such force that he knocked over a rack of test tubes, the manager cried:
“No, Tom! We’ll fight ’em to a finish!”
“I thought you’d say that,” was Tom’s quiet comment.
“And you can count on me,” said Mr. Swift, “though I’m not much good when it comes to a fight.”
“Oh, I’ve got men enough to fight for me physically,” said Tom. “What I need is moral backing, and now that I have it I’m going ahead. I’ve been trying to fight this thing too much in the dark. From now on I’ll use not only my own men, but also the regular police force of Shopton. Ned, get the chief on the wire!”
In a short time a squad of police were on guard around Tom’s big plant, while, as the day drew to a close and the hour approached for the test demonstration, the regular workmen searched for anything that might give color to the threat to blow the place up.
Just when it seemed that nothing would be found, several of the men, under the leadership of Mr. Jackson, made a startling discovery.