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138 people stood. Tom scrambled in and out among the boulders, in spite of the pain it caused his wounded leg. He was anxious to know who the other castaways were, and how they had come there.

Several of the larger party were now advancing to meet the lad and his friends. Tom could see two women and seven men.

A moment later, when the lad had a good view of one of the ladies and a gentleman, he could not repress a cry of astonishment. Then he rubbed his eyes to make sure it was not some blur or defect of vision. No, his first impression had been correct.

"Mr. Nestor!" cried Tom, recognizing the father of his girl friend. "And Mrs. Nestor!" he added a moment later.

"Why—of all things—look—Amos—it's—it can't be possible—and yet—why, it's Tom Swift!" cried the lady.

"Tom—Tom Swift—here?" ejaculated the man at her side.

"Yes—Tom Swift—the young inventor—of Shopton—don't you know—the lad who saved Mary's life in the runaway—Tom Swift!"

"Tom Swift!" murmured Mr. Nestor. "Is it possible!"

"I'm Tom Swift, all right," answered the