Tom who had shut
off the searchlight for a minute, turned it on again, and the house
and grounds of Mr. Damon were enveloped in a wonderful glow.
"That will bring him out," predicted Tom.
A moment later they heard his voice.
"Bless my astronomy!" cried Mr. Damon. "There's a meteor fallen in
our yard. Come out, wife--everybody--call the servants. It's a
chance of a lifetime to see one, and they're valuable, too! Bless my
star dust! I must tell Tom Swift of this!"
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.
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