to the stranger and after apologizing for the little
interruption, asked:

"You wished to see me?"

"If you're Tom Swift; yes."

"Well, I'm Tom Swift," and the young owner of the name
smiled.

"I hope you will pardon a stranger for calling on you,"
resumed the man, "but I'm in a lot of trouble, and I think
you are the only one who can help me out."

"What sort of trouble?" Tom inquired.

"Contracting trouble--tunnel blasting, to be exact. But if
you have a few minutes to spare perhaps you will listen to
my story. You will then be better able to understand my
difficulty."

Tom Swift considered a moment. He was used to having
appeals for help made to him, and usually they were of a
begging nature. He was often asked for money to help some
struggling inventor complete his machine.

In many cases the machines would have been of absolutely
no use if perfected. In other cases the inventions were of
the utterly hopeless class, incapable of perfection, like
some perpetual motion apparatus. In these cases Tom turned a