White Fire

  Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morganand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team athttps://www.pgdp.net

  _Mystery Stories for Boys_

  White Fire

  _By_ ROY J. SNELL

  Chicago The Reilly & Lee Co.

  _Printed in the United States of America_

  Copyright, 1922 by The Reilly & Lee Co. _All Rights Reserved_

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I The Beginning of a Mystery 9 II Johnny's Trap Works 23 III Johnny Flushes a Skulker 36 IV A Fight in the Night 48 V A Strange Test 60 VI A Wild Race in the Night 72 VII A Race Across the Desert 90 VIII The Dust-Eating Mule 101 IX A Plane in a Typhoon 128 X The Taste of Salt Sea Water 142 XI Life's Hazard of a Single Glide 154 XII Flying Knives 168 XIII The Mystery Deepens 182 XIV A Strange Life Boat 197 XV The Chests Are Found 213 XVI A Race in Mid-Air 225

  WHITE FIRE

  CHAPTER I THE BEGINNING OF A MYSTERY

  Johnny Thompson started, then stared with dilated pupils at a spot on thealuminum casting before him. The spot, a jagged notch left by imperfectwork in the foundry, turned first a dull red, then a bright red, then aglowing white.

  Mechanically his hand touched the valve of his oxy-acetylene torch. Yes,it was as he had believed, the acetylene valve was closed. The oxygenvalve was open, it was true, but the drum which had contained oxygenunder a thousand pounds pressure was empty. In fact, he was waiting forthe arrival of a new drum. That was what made the thing seem strange,impossible! It was a miracle, only miracles don't happen in suchplaces--he was working in the heart of a great industrial plant whichturned out automobiles in twenty carload lots and airplanes by thehundreds.

  Johnny scratched his chin and stared at the white spot. True, the nozzleof his torch was aimed at that spot; but five minutes before it hadsput-sputted for a few seconds, then died down to an insignificant flamegiving too little heat for any sort of welding. He had cut that flameoff, yet now, before his very eyes the metal glowed white hot.

  With a grin which said plainer than words, "I'm dreaming," he thrust afinger in a can of water, then held it over the glowing spot until a dropof water fell.

  Instantly he started afresh and stared with wilder eyes. There had comethe hiss of water on white-hot metal.

  "It's hot--hot enough to weld!--no doubt about it," he whispered. "Whatin the name of all that's good?"

  Mechanically he lifted a light hammer and struck four deft blows. Themetal yielded to the touch of the hammer as wax to the seal. Still as ina dream he selected a bit of metal and dropped it into the niche in thecasting.

  Watching it closely, he saw it, too, turn dull red, bright red, then glowwhite. Again his hammer fell upon the spot. Deftly he struck it here andthere until presently no trace of the weld remained save the glowingwhite spot.

  That, too, changed rapidly, first grayish white, then light red, thendull red, then black.

  For a time he watched it, then with a file he brushed away the blackscar, leaving the casting perfect, ready to take its place in a splendidchummy roadster.

  A chummy roadster! For a moment, at thought of it, Johnny's mind left themystery. It was to be _his_ chummy roadster, and was to cost him only asmall fraction of what it would cost on the market, for was he not of thesalvage department? And had not the head of that department given himpermission to salvage a part here, another part there, and another there,a few in the foundry, in the forge room, in the electrical repair shop,here and there all over the factory, until he had all the parts to make acomplete car, and was he not to pay for the car just what the total valueof the whole number of parts would have been if they had been thrown uponthe scrap pile?

  A chummy roadster! It was the only bright spot that had come upon hishorizon since he had returned home at the call of a telegram, and hadarrived to find his home draped in black, with noiseless footstepspassing to and fro. His father, the father who had been his boyhood chum,had left him for other lands. He had left, too, through no fault of his,a debt unpaid and no estate from which to pay it.

  To Johnny Thompson, who had had many adventures but had saved no money,whose soul was a soul of honor, this situation called for but one thing:Adventures for him must cease. He must settle down to hard work and clearoff the debt which clouded the family's good name.

  Dearly as he loved adventure, much as he longed to be away to someuntried wilderness of Russia, Africa, South America, he had set his teethtight and had said:

  "It is my duty and I will."

  For a half hour he had permitted his mind to dwell upon his thrillingexperiences in Russia with the "Reds"; in Alaska with Hanada; beneath theChicago river with Cio Cio San; with Panther Eye and the wild beasts ofthe jungle. All these adventures he had dreamed through once more, thenhe had resolutely turned his back upon them and had gone forth in searchof work.

  Work was not easy to find. Times were dull. At last after five days offruitless search, through the kindness of an old friend of his father hehad secured a place in the salvage department of a great automobile andairplane factory. This department took parts that had been badly forged,or badly cast, and attempted to make them perfect, to put them back intothe line of construction.

  "Cutting costs," the aged manager had told him. "That's what we're afterthese days. Can't afford to waste a move. And if you can help us do thatyou'll soon be a valuable man."

  "Not much chance for adventure in sorting rusty castings, I guess,"Johnny had smiled, "but I'll take the job; glad to. Thanks!"

  "Now, see here," the manager had smiled. "It's queer about that adventurestuff. You can't always dope it out, but sometimes I think that if afellow is destined for adventure he'll find it; yes, even in the heart ofa noisy old industrial plant."

  Johnny had smiled and had at once forgotten the remark. He had resignedhimself to hard and grimy toil, and for four months had stuck withdetermination to his job.

  Now that remark came back to him as if he were hearing it again: "If afellow is destined for adventure he'll find it; yes, even in the heart ofa noisy old industrial plant." Was this strange white fire which enabledhim to make a perfect weld with no oxygen and with his gas turned off,the mystery which was to provide the adventure destined to come to him?

  He stared about the deserted room. It was after hours and no one was inthe building save Tommy Barr, who had gone for a new tube of oxygen. Hecould discover no possible clue which would tell him of the origin of thestrange white fire.

  He started as there came a metallic click, click. Then he smiled. It wasTommy rolling the tube over the tile floor.

  "Tommy," he said, "the funniest thing," then he paused and turned theremark to another subject. He had been about to tell of the strange whitefire. "The mystery is mine," was his sudde
n conclusion. "I'll solve italone."

  When Tommy had gone for the night, with trembling fingers Johnny selecteda second defective casting and set it in the vise as the other had been.Eagerly he watched to see what would happen. His impatience grew as themoments passed, for no dull red glow answered his invitation to theunseen source of magic fire.

  "Guess the spell's broken," he mumbled.

  He waited a few minutes longer, then, switching on the valves of historch, he sent a touch of blue flame against the defective casting and, afew minutes later, threw the now perfect part on the rapidly growing pileby his side.

  After that he switched off his torch, snapped off the electric light andwent home.

  Long before sleep gave his tired eyes rest, however, he pondered over thestrange doings of the mysterious white fire, and well he might, for asthe days passed that mystery was destined to become more intricatelycomplicated, more strangely baffling on each succeeding day.

  Arriving at the factory, as was his custom, a full ten minutes beforework for the day, Johnny, next morning, was surprised to find a boywaiting for him with a message from William McFarland, manager of andlarge stockholder in the plant, his father's old-time friend.

  "What's he want, sonny?" Johnny smiled.

  "Don't know; jes' wants to see you at the office."

  "Something to do with that white fire," was Johnny's mental comment.

  "Johnny," said the industrial leader, motioning him to a chair, "when Igave you a job in our salvage department you said something aboutadventure."

  Johnny smiled and nodded.

  "You've had some adventures," the magnate scowled, "that ought to havebeen profitable."

  "How--how?" Johnny stammered.

  "Don't matter how I found out. The point is you should have saved a lotof money from the proceeds of those adventures. Apparently you haven't.There was that gold mine in Siberia; I'm told it was a new Klondike."

  "It was, but--"

  The magnate held up his hand for silence. "There was also that bag ofdiamonds you rescued from the head of the bolsheviki band. Where'd yourshare of all that disappear to?"

  "I never had any share," Johnny answered. "In that Siberian gold mineaffair I was pledged to pay over the profits to a relief committeeworking with the refugees in Vladivostok. In the case of the bag ofdiamonds, it belonged to a defenseless Japanese woman and her people. Ireturned it to its rightful owner."

  The magnate sat down. He was smiling. "That's the sort of fellow Ithought you were--a son of your father. Know what broke your father?"

  "Not--not altogether."

  "He was too honest, too good to his employes. Sold them stock when thingswere booming because he thought it would be a good thing for them. Then,when the slump came and the stock went down, down, down, he bought itback at the price they had paid. I think it was a mistake. He thought ita point of honor. He paid them the last cent and it broke him flat."

  The capitalist sat staring into space. When he spoke again his voice washusky.

  "Such men as that are rare. You're like your father. That's why I tookyou into our shop. I didn't need you in the salvage department. I do needyou now for a far more important mission." He rose and closed the door."I need you for a secret mission, one about which you must not breathe aword to any living being save myself."

  A silence fell over the room; a tense, almost vibrant silence.

  "Johnny," he put his hand on the boy's arm, "we've a great discoverywithin the walls of our factory, a discovery to which the formula, forthe time being, is lost. It is a new type of steel. It has the hardnessand the flexibility of the Damascus sword blade and, like that wonderfulweapon, its owner cannot tell how it was made."

  "Then what good will--"

  Mr. McFarland again held up his hand for silence. "You know, in thesedays of keen competition, manufacturers of motors for airplanes andautomobiles are bending every effort to produce steel that will standsevere tests, that will endure strains and over-drive, and will last,last!"

  Johnny nodded.

  "We have such a steel as that, a marvelous steel. The man who discoveredit is a genius--one of our mechanics. Unfortunately, after he hadproduced a few bars of this steel, and before he confided the formula toany other person, or had discovered ways of working it, he broke downfrom the excitement and over-strain. His mind became a blank--a completeblank."

  He paused to stare at the wall, as if in a dream.

  "And there," he went on, "are the bars of steel, some only eight incheslong, some two feet--eight of them. Up to last night, that is. Now two ofthe shorter ones are missing. I was very careless. They should have beenguarded. Competition is very strong, and doubtless a competitor has a spyin our plant. If that spy makes away with that steel, if the other mandiscovers the secret formula first and secures a patent, you can see whatit will mean to us."

  He looked Johnny squarely in the eyes. Johnny returned the gaze, but hisknees trembled. He remembered his experience of the previous night. Hehad been the last man to leave the factory. Was his employer about toaccuse him of stealing the precious bars?

  It was a tense moment. For a full thirty seconds not a sound disturbedthe room. At last the magnate spoke in a whisper:

  "Johnny, from now on it shall be your task to guard the six remainingbars, and to discover the whereabouts of the two that were stolen."

  Johnny's muscles relaxed like a violin string when the bridge falls.

  "I--I--" he leaped from his chair, "I'll do my best."

  "I know you will. Now sit down there in the corner for fifteen minutesand think out some plans for discovering the lost property. You don'tneed to tell me of the plans, but tell me what I can do to aid you."

  Eight minutes had elapsed when Johnny sat up with a start.

  "I have it," he exclaimed. "I'd like an electro-magnet, a powerful one,leaned against the south doorpost to the east exit. I want it connectedup with switches in such a manner that I can operate it at a point whereI can watch the doorway and not be seen myself. The electro-magnet shouldappear to be merely stored there temporarily."

  "I'll have it attended to at once," said the magnate. "I wish you luck."