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He had often landed in this same place.
"Something has broken in the muffler, I think, letting out some
of the exhaust," he said to Mr. Damon, for, now that the motor
was shut off, Tom could speak in his ordinary tones. "I'll soon
have it fixed, or, if I can't, we can go back in the old style--
with the machine making as much racket as it pleases."
So Tom guided the machine down. It went silently now, of
course, making, with the motor shut off, no more sound than a
falling leaf. Down to the soft, springy turf in the green meadow
Tom guided the machine. As it came to a stop, and he and Mr.
Damon got out, there was borne to their ears a wild cry:
"Help! Help!"

CHAPTER XIII
SOMETHING QUEER

"DiD you hear that?" asked Tom Swift of his companion.
"Hear it? Bless my ear drums, I should say I did hear it! Some
one is in trouble, Tom. Caught in a bog, most likely, the same as
that spy chap who was at your place. That's it--caught in a bog!"
"There isn't any bog or swamp around here, Mr. Damon. If there
was I shouldn't have tried a landing.


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