"It's all right, Tom! It's all right!" declared Ned, and it
needed but a glance to show that he was more serious than was his
companion. "I'm not suffering from the heat, though the
thermometer is getting close to ninety-five in the shade. And if
you want to know where I get 'that stuff' read this!"
He tossed over to his chum, employer, and friend--for Tom Swift
assumed all three relations toward Ned Newton--part of a Sunday
newspaper. It was turned to a page containing a big illustration
of a diver attired in the usual rubber suit and big helmet,
moving about on the floor of the ocean and digging out boxes of
what was supposed to be gold from a sunken wreck.
"Oh, that stuff!" exclaimed Tom, with a smile of disbelief as
he saw the source of Ned's information. "Seems to me I've read
something like that before, Ned!"
"Of course you have!" agreed the young financial manager of the
newly organized Swift Construction Company. "It isn't anything
new. This wealth of untold millions has been at the bottom of the
sea for many years--always increasing with nobody ever spending a
cent of it.
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