Glancing with critical eyes at the craft of his rival, Tom saw that Andy Foger had a very fine boat. The young inventor also realized that if he was to come anywhere near winning the race he would have to get the utmost speed out of his engine, for the new boat the bully had was designed primarily for racing, while Tom's was an all-around pleasure craft, though capable of something in the speed line.
"I'll be giving you a tow in a few minutes, as soon as my engine gets warmed up!" sneered Andy.
"Maybe," said Tom, and then he crouched down to make as little resistance as possible to the wind. Andy, on the contrary, sat boldly upright at the auto steering wheel of his boat.
On rushed the two motor craft, their prows exactly even and the propellers tossing up a bulge in the water at their sterns. Rapidly acquiring speed after the two lads had adjusted the timers on their motors, the boats were racing side by side, seemingly on even terms.
The RED STREAK had a very sharp prow, designed to cut through the water. It was of the type known as an automobile launch. That is, the engine was located forward, under a sort of hood, which had two hinged covers like a bat's wings. The steering-wheel shaft went through the forward bulkhead, slantingly, like the wheel of an auto, and was arranged with gasoline and sparking levers on the center post in a similar manner. At the right of the wheel was a reversing lever, by which the propeller blades could be set at neutral, or arranged so as to drive the boat backward. Altogether the RED STREAK was a very fine boat and had cost considerably more than had Tom's, even when the latter was new. All these things the young owner of the ARROW thought of as he steered his craft over the course.
"I hardly think I can win," Tom remarked to himself in a whisper. "His boat is too speedy for this one. I have a chance, though, for his engine is new, and I don't believe he understands it as well as I do mine. Then, too, I am sure I have a better ignition system."
But if Tom had any immediate hopes of defeating Andy, they were doomed to disappointment, for about two minutes after the race started the RED STREAK forged slowly ahead.
"Come on!" cried the red-haired lad. "I thought you wanted a race."
"I do," answered the young inventor. "We're a long way from the dock yet, and we've got to come back."
"You'll be out of it by the time I get to the dock," declared Andy.
Indeed it began to look so, for the auto boat was now a full length ahead of Tom's craft and there was open water between them. But our hero knew a thing or two about racing, though he had not long been a motor-boat owner. He adjusted the automatic oiler on the cylinders to give more lubrication, as he intended to get more speed out of his engine. Then he opened the gasoline cock a trifle more and set his timer forward a few notches to get an earlier spark. He was not going to use the maximum speed just yet, but he first wanted to see how the motor of the ARROW would behave under these conditions. To his delight he saw his boat slowly creeping up on Andy's. The latter, with a glance over his shoulder, saw it too, and he advanced his spark. His craft forged ahead, but the rate of increase was not equal to Tom's. "If I can keep up to him I suppose I ought to be glad," thought the young inventor, "for his boat is away ahead of mine in rating."
Through the water the sharp bows cut. There were only a few witnesses to the race, but those who were out in boats saw a pretty sight as the two speedy craft came on toward the dock, which was the turning point.
Andy's boat reached it first, and swung about in a wide circle for the return. Tom decided it was time to make his boat do its best, so he set the timer at the limit, and the spark, coming more quickly, increased the explosions.
Up shot the ARROW and, straightening out after the turn, Tom's craft crept along until it lapped the stern of the RED STREAK. Andy looked back in dismay. Then he tried to get more speed out of his engine. He did cause the screw to revolve a little faster, and Tom noted that he was again being left behind. Then one of those things, which may happen at any time to a gasoline motor, happened to Andy's. It began to miss explosions. At first it was only occasionally, then the misses became more frequent.
The owner of the RED STREAK with one hand on the steering wheel, tried with the other to adjust the motor to get rid of the trouble, but he only made it worse. Andy's boat began to fall back and Tom's to creep up. Frantically Andy worked the gasoline and sparking levers, but without avail. At last one cylinder went completely out of service.
The two boats were now on even terms and were racing along side by side toward the wooded, point, which marked the finish.
"I'll beat you yet!" exclaimed Andy fiercely.
"Better hurry up!" retorted Tom.
But the young inventor was not to have it all his own way. With a freakishness equal to that with which it had ceased to explode the dead cylinder came to life again, and the RED STREAK shot ahead. Once more Andy's boat had the lead of a length and the finish of the race was close at hand. The squint-eyed lad turned and shouted: "I told you I'd beat you! Want a tow now?"
It began to look as though Tom would need it, but he still had something in reserve. One of the improvements he had put in the ARROW was a new auxiliary ignition system. This he now decided to use.
With a quick motion Tom threw over the switch that put it into operation. A hotter, "fatter" spark was at once produced, and adjusting his gasoline cock so that a little more of the fluid would be drawn in, making a "richer" mixture, the owner of the ARROW saw the craft shoot forward as if, like some weary runner, new life had been infused.
In vain did Andy frantically try to get more speed out of his motor. He cut out the muffler, and the explosions sounded loudly over the lake. But it was no use. A minute later the ARROW, which had slowly forged ahead, crossed the bows of the RED STREAK opposite the finishing point, and Tom had won the race.
"Well, was that fair?" our hero called to Andy, who had quickly shut off some of his power as he saw his rival's daring trick. "Did I beat you fair?"
"You wouldn't have beaten me if my engine hadn't gone back on me," grumbled Andy, chagrin showing on his face. "Wait until my motor runs smoother and I'll give you a big handicap and beat you. My boat's faster than yours. It ought to be. It cost fifteen hundred dollars and it's a racer."
"I guess it doesn't like racing," commented Tom as he swung the prow of his craft down the lake toward his home. But he knew there was some truth in what Andy had said. The RED STREAK was a more speedy boat, and, with proper handling, could have beaten the ARROW. That was where Tom's superior knowledge came in useful. "Just you wait, I'll beat you yet," called Andy, after the young inventor, but the latter made no answer. He was satisfied.
Mr. Swift was much interested that night in his son's account of the race.
"I had no idea yours was such a speedy boat," he said.
"Well, it wasn't originally," admitted Tom, "but the improvements I put on it made it so. But, dad, when are we going on our tour? You look more worn out than I've seen you in some time, not excepting when the turbine model was stolen. Are you worrying over your gyroscope invention?"
"Somewhat, Tom. I can't seem to hit on just what I want. It's a difficult problem."
"Then I tell you what let's do, dad. Let's drop everything in the inventive line and go off on a vacation. I'll take you up the lake in my boat and you can spend a week at the Lakeview Hotel at Sandport. It will do you good."
"What will you do, Tom?"
"Oh, Ned Newton and I will cruise about and we'll take you along any time you want to go. We're going to camp out nights or sleep in the boat if it rains. I've ordered a canopy with side curtains. Ned and I don't care for the hotel life in the summer. Will you go?"
Mr. Swift considered a moment. He did need a rest, for he had been working hard and his brain was weary with thinking of many problems. His son's program sounded very attractive.
"I think I will accept," said the inventor with a smile. "When can you start, Tom?"
"In about four days. Ned Newton will get his vacation then and I'll have the canopy on. I'll start to work at it to-morrow. Then we'll go on a trip."
Sandport was a summer resort at the extreme southern end of Lake Carlopa, and Mr. Swift at once wrote to the Lakeview Hotel there to engage a room for himself. In the meanwhile Tom began to put the canopy on his boat and arrange for the trip, which would take nearly a whole day. Ned Newton was delighted with the prospect of a camping tour and helped Tom to get ready. They took a small tent and plenty of supplies, with some food. They did not need to carry many rations, as the shores of the lake were lined with towns and villages where food could be procured.
Finally all was ready for the trip and the night before the start Ned Newton stayed at Tom's house so as to be in readiness for going off early in the morning. The day was all that could be desired, Tom noted, as he and his chum hurried down to the dock before breakfast to put their blankets in the boat. As the young inventor entered the craft he uttered an exclamation.
"What's the matter?" asked Ned.
"I was sure I locked the sliding door of that forward compartment," was the reply. "Now it's open." He looked inside the space occupied by the gasoline tank and cried out: "One of the braces is gone! There's been some one at my boat in the night and they tried to damage her."
"Much harm done?" asked Ned anxiously.
"No, none at all, to speak of," replied Tom. "I can easily put a new block under the tank. In fact, I don't really need all I have. But why should any one take one out, and who did it? That's what I want to know."
The two lads looked carefully about the dock and boat for a sign of the missing block or any clews that might show who had been tampering with the ARROW, but they could find nothing.
"Maybe the block fell out," suggested Ned.
"It couldn't," replied Tom. "It was one of the new ones I put in myself and it was nailed fast. You can see where it's been pried loose. I can't understand it," and Tom thought rapidly of several mysterious occurrences of late in which the strange man at the auction and the person he had surprised one night in the boathouse had a part.
"Well, it needn't delay our trip," resumed the young inventor. "Maybe there's a hoodoo around here, and it will do us good to get away a few days. Come on, we'll have breakfast, get dad and start."
A little later the ARROW was puffing away up the lake in the direction of Sandport.
"Don't you feel better already, dad?" asked Tom that noon as they stopped under a leaning, overhanging tree for lunch on the shore of the lake. "I'll leave it to Ned if you don't look more contented and less worried."
"I believe he does," agreed the other lad. "Well, I must say I certainly have enjoyed the outing so far," admitted the inventor with a smile. "And I haven't been bothering about my gyroscope. I think I'll take another sandwich, Tom, and a few more olives."
"That's the way to talk!" cried the son. "Your appetite is improving, too. If Mrs. Baggert could see you she'd say so."
"Oh, yes, Mrs. Baggert. I do hope she and Garret will look after the house and shops well," said Mr. Swift, and the old, worried look came like a shadow over his face.
"Now don't be thinking of that, dad," advised Tom, "Of course everything will be all right. Do you think some of those model thieves will return and try to get some of your other inventions?"
"I don't know, Tom. Those men were unscrupulous scoundrels, and you can never tell what they might do to revenge themselves on us for defeating their plans."
"Well, I guess Garret and Mrs. Baggert will look out for them," remarked his son. "Don't worry."
"Yes, it's bad for the digestion," added Ned. "If you don't mind, Tom, I'll have some more coffee and another sandwich myself."
"Nothing the matter with your appetite, either," commented the young inventor as he passed the coffee pot and the plate.
They were soon on their way again, the ARROW making good time up the lake. Tom was at the engine, making several minor adjustments to it, while Ned steered. Mr. Swift reclined on one of the cushioned seats under the shade of the canopy. The young owner of the ARROW looked over the stretch of water from time to time for a possible sight of Andy Foger, but the RED STREAK was not to be seen. The Lakeview Hotel was reached late that afternoon and the boat was tied up to the dock, while Tom and Ned accompanied Mr. Swift to see him comfortably established in his room.
"Won't you stay to supper with me?" invited the inventor to his son and the latter's chum. "Or do you want to start right in on camp life?"
"I guess we'll stay to supper and remain at the hotel to-night," decided Tom. "We got here a little later than I expected, and Ned and I hardly have time to go very far and establish a temporary camp. We'll live a life of luxurious ease to-night and begin to be 'wanderlusters' and get back to nature to-morrow."
In the morning Tom and his chum, full of enthusiasm for the pleasures before them, started off, promising to come back to the hotel in a few days to see how Mr. Swift felt. The trip had already done the man good and his face wore a brighter look.
Tom and Ned, in the speedy ARROW, cruised along the lakeshores all that morning. At noon they went ashore, made a temporary camp and arranged to spend the night there in the tent. After this was erected they got out their fishing tackle and passed the afternoon at that sport, having such good luck that they provided their own supper without having to depend on canned stuff.
They lived this life for three days, making a new camp each night, being favored with good weather, so that they did not have to sleep in the boat to keep dry. On the afternoon of the third day Tom, with a critical glance at the sky, remarked:
"I shouldn't be surprised if it rained to-morrow, Ned."
"Me either. It does look sort of hazy, and the wind is in a bad quarter."
"Then what do you say to heading for the hotel? I fancy dad will be glad to see us."
"That suits me. We can start camp life again after the storm passes."
They started for Sandport that afternoon. When within about two miles of the hotel dock Tom saw, just ahead of them, a small motor-boat. Ned observed it too and called out:
"S'pose that's Andy looking for another race?"
"No, the boat's too small for his. We'll put over that way and see who it is."
The other craft did not appear to be moving very rapidly and the ARROW was soon overhauling it. As the two chums came nearer they could hear the puffing of the motor. Tom listened with critical ears.
"That machine isn't working right," he remarked to his chum.
At that moment there sounded a loud explosion from the other boat and at the same time there came over the water a shrill cry of alarm. "That's a girl in that boat!" exclaimed Ned. "Maybe she's hurt."
"No, the motor only backfired," observed Tom. "But we'll go over and see if we can help her. Perhaps she doesn't understand it. Girls don't know much about machinery."
A little later the ARROW shot up alongside the other craft, which had come to a stop. The two lads could see a girl bending over the motor, twirling the flywheel and trying to get it started. "Can I help you?" asked Tom, shutting off the power from his craft.
The young lady glanced up. Her face was red and she seemed ill at ease. At the sight of the young inventor she uttered an exclamation of relief.
"Why, Mr. Swift!" she cried. "Oh, I'm in such trouble. I can't make the machine work, and I'm afraid it's broken; it exploded."
"Miss Nestor!" blurted out Tom, more surprised evidently to see his acquaintance of the runaway again than she was at beholding him. "I didn't know you ran a motor-boat," he added. "I don't," said she simply and helplessly. "That's the trouble, it won't run."
"How comes it that you are up here?" went on Tom.
"I am stopping with friends, who have a cottage near the Lakeview Hotel. They have a motor-boat and I got Dick Blythe—he's the owner of this—to show me how to run it. I thought I knew, and I started out a little while ago. At first it went beautifully, but a few minutes ago it blew up, or—or something dreadful happened."
"Nothing very dreadful, I guess," Tom assured her. "I think I can fix it." He got into the other boat and soon saw what the trouble was. The carburetor had gotten out of adjustment and the gasoline was not feeding properly. The young inventor soon had it in order, and, testing the motor, found that it worked perfectly.
"Oh, I can't thank you enough," cried Miss Nestor with a flash from her brown eyes that made Tom's heart beat double time. "I was afraid I had damaged the boat, and I knew Dick, who is a sort of second cousin of mine, would never forgive me."
"There's no harm done," Tom assured her. "But you had better keep near us on your way back, that is, if you are going back."
"Oh, indeed I am. I was frightened when I found I'd come so far away from shore, and then, when that explosion took place—well, you can imagine how I felt. Indeed I will keep near you. Are you stopping near here? If you are, I wish you'd come and see me, you and Mr. Newton," she added, for Tom had introduced his chum.
"I'll be very glad to," answered our hero, and he told how he happened to be in the neighborhood. "I'll give you a few lessons in managing a boat, if you like," he added.
"Oh, will you? That will be lovely! I won't tell Dick about it, and I'll surprise him some day by showing him how well I can run his boat."
"Good idea," commented Tom.
He started the motor for Miss Nestor, having stopped it after his first test, and then, with the DOT, which was the name of the small boat Miss Nestor was in, following the larger ARROW, the run back to the hotel was made. The young lady turned off near the Lakeview dock to go to the cottage where she was stopping and the lads tied up at the hotel boathouse.
"Yes, we are in for a storm," remarked Tom as he and his chum walked up toward the hotel. "I wonder how dad is? I hope the outing is doing him good."
"There he comes now," observed Ned, and, looking up, Tom saw his father approaching. The young inventor was at once struck by the expression on his parent's face. Mr. Swift looked worried and Tom anxiously hastened forward to meet him.
"What's the matter dad?" he asked as cheerfully as he could. "Have you been figuring over that gyroscope problem again, against my express orders?" and he laughed a little.
"No, Tom, it's not the gyroscope that's worrying me."
"What is it then?"
"Those scoundrels are around again, Tom!" and Mr. Swift looked apprehensively about him.
"You mean the men who stole the turbine model?"
"Yes. I was walking in the woods near the hotel yesterday and I saw Anson Morse. He did not see me, for I turned aside as quickly as I had a glimpse of him. He was talking to another man."
"What sort of a man?"
"Well, an ordinary enough individual, but I noticed that he had tattooed on the little finger of his left hand a blue ring."
"Happy Harry, the tramp!" exclaimed Tom. "What can he and Morse be doing here?"
"I don't know, Tom, but I'm worried. I wish I was back home. I'm afraid something may happen to some of my inventions. I want to go back to Shopton, Tom."
"Nonsense, dad. Don't worry just because you saw some of your former enemies. Everything is all right at home. Mrs. Baggert and Garret Jackson will look after things. But, if you like, I, can find out for you how matters are."
"How, Tom?"
"By taking a run down there in my motor-boat. I can do it to-morrow and get back by night, if I start early. Then you will not worry."
"All right, Tom; I wish you would. Come up to my room and we will talk it over. I'd rather leave you go than telephone, as I don't like to talk of my business over the wire if I can avoid it."
"Now, dad, tell me all about it," requested Tom when he and Ned were in Mr. Swift's apartment at the hotel, safe from the rain that was falling. "How did you happen to see Anson Morse and Happy Harry?" My old readers will doubtless remember that the latter was the disguised tramp who was so vindictive toward Tom, while Morse was the man who endeavored to sneak in Mr. Swift's shop and steal a valuable invention.
"Well, Tom," proceeded the inventor, "there isn't much to tell. I was out walking in the woods yesterday, and when I was behind a clump of bushes I heard voices. I looked out and there I saw the two men."
"At first I thought they were trailing me, but I saw that they had not seen me, and I didn't see how they could know I was in the neighborhood. So I quietly made my way back to the hotel."
"Could you hear what they were saying?"
"Not all, but they seemed angry over something. The man with the blue ring on his finger asked the other man whether Murdock had been heard from."
"Who is Murdock?"
"I don't know, unless he is another member of the gang or unless that is an assumed name."
"It may be that. What else did you hear?"
"The man we know as Morse replied that he hadn't heard from him, but that he suspected Murdock was playing a double game. Then the tramp—Happy Harry—asked this question: 'Have you any clew to the sparkler?' And Morse answered: 'No, but I think Murdock has hid it somewhere and is trying to get away with it without giving us our share.' Then the two men walked away, and I came back to the hotel," finished Mr. Swift.
"Sparkler," murmured Tom. "I wonder what that can be?"
"That's a slang word for diamonds," suggested Ned.
"So it is. In that case, dad, I think we have nothing to worry about. Those fellows must be going to commit a diamond robbery or perhaps it has already taken place."
The inventor seemed relieved at this theory of his son. His face brightened and he said: "If they are going to commit a robbery, Tom, we ought to notify the police."
"But if they said that 'Murdock,' whoever he is, had the sparkler and was trying to get away with it without giving them their share, wouldn't that indicate that the robbery had already taken place?" asked Ned.
"That's so," agreed Tom. "But it won't do any harm to tell the hotel detective that suspicious characters are around, no matter if the robbery has been committed. Then he can be on the lookout. But I don't think we have anything to worry about, dad. Still, if you like, I'll take a run down to the house to see that everything is all right, though I'm sure it will be found that we have nothing to be alarmed over."
"Well, I will be more relieved if you do," said the inventor, "However, suppose we have a good supper now and you boys can stay at the hotel to-night. Then you and Ned can start off early in the morning."
"All right," agreed Tom, but there was a thoughtful look on his face and he appeared to be planning something that needed careful attention to details.
After supper that night Tom took his chum to one side and asked: "Would you mind very much if you didn't make the trip to Shopton with me?"
"No, Tom, of course not, if it will help you any. Do you want me to stay here?"
"I think it will be a good plan. I don't like to leave dad alone if those scoundrels are around. Of course he's able to look after himself, but sometimes he gets absent minded from thinking too much about his inventions."
"Of course I'll stay here at the hotel. This is just as good a vacation as I could wish."
"Oh, I don't mean all the while. Just a day or so—until I come back. I may be here again by to-morrow night and find that my father is needlessly alarmed. Then something may have happened at home and I would be delayed. If I should be, I'd feel better to know that you were here."
"Then I'll stay, and if I see any of those men—"
"You'd better steer clear of them," advised Tom quickly. "They are dangerous customers."
"All right. Then I'll go over and give Miss Nestor lessons on how to run a motor-boat," was the smiling response. "I fancy, with what she and I know, we can make out pretty well."
"Hold on there!" cried Tom gaily. "No trespassing, you know."
"Oh, I'll just say I'm your agent," promised Ned with a grin. "You can't object to that."
"No, I s'pose not. Well, do the best you can. She is certainly a nice girl."
"Yes, but you do seem to turn up at most opportune times. Luck is certainly with you where she is concerned. First you save her in a runaway—"
"After I start the runaway," interrupted Tom.
"Then you take her for a ride in your motor-boat, and, lastly, you come to her relief when she is stalled in the middle of the lake. Oh you certainly are a lucky dog!"
"Never mind, I'm giving you a show. Now let's get to bed early, as I want to get a good start."
Tom awoke to find a nasty, drizzling rainstorm in progress, and the lake was almost hidden from view by a swirling fog. Still he was not to be daunted from his trip to Shopton by the weather, and, after a substantial breakfast, he bade his father and Ned good-by and started off in the ARROW.
The canopy he had provided was an efficient protection against the rain, a celluloid window in the forward hanging curtains affording him a view so that he could steer.
Through the mist puffed the boat, the motor being throttled down to medium speed, for Tom was not as familiar with the lake as he would like to have been, and he did not want to run aground or into another craft.
He was thinking over what his father had told him about the presence of the men and vainly wondering what might be their reference to the "sparkler." His thoughts also dwelt on the curious removal of the bracing block from under the gasoline tank of his boat.
"I shouldn't be surprised but what Andy Foger did that," he mused. "Some day he and I will have a grand fight, and then maybe he'll let me alone. Well, I've got other things to think about now. The hotel detective can keep a lookout for the men around the hotel, after the warning I gave him, and I'll see that all is right at home."
The fog lifted somewhat and Tom put on more speed. As he was steering the boat along near shore he heard, off to the woods at his right, the report of a gun. It came so suddenly that he jumped involuntarily. A moment later there sounded, plainly through the damp air, a cry for help.
"Some one's hurt—shot!" cried the youth aloud.
He turned the boat in toward the bank. As he shut off the power from the motor he heard the cry again:
"Help! Help! Help!"
"I must go ashore!" he exclaimed. "Probably some one is badly wounded by a gun."
He paused for a moment as the fear came to him that it might be some of the patent thieves. Then, dismissing that idea as the ARROW's prow touched the gravel, Tom sprang out, drew the boat up a little way, fastened the rope to a tree and hurried off into the dripping woods in the direction of the voice that was calling for aid.
"Where are you?" cried Tom. "Are you hurt? Where are you?"
Uttering these words after he had hurried into the woods a short distance, the young inventor paused for an answer. At first he could hear nothing but the drip of water from the branches of the trees; then, as he listened intently, he became aware of a groan not far away.
"Where are you?" cried the lad again. "I've come to help you. Where are you?"
He had lost what little fear he had had at first, that it might be one of the unscrupulous gang, and came to the conclusion that he might safely offer to help.
Once more the groan sounded and it was followed by a faint voice speaking:
"Here I am, under the big oak tree. Oh, whoever you are, help me quickly! I'm bleeding to death!"
With the sound of the voice to guide him, Tom swung around. The appeal had come from the left and, looking in that direction, he saw, through the mist, a large oak tree. Leaping over the underbrush toward it he caught sight of the wounded man at its foot. Beside him lay a gun and there was a wound in the man's right arm.
"Who shot you?" cried Tom, hurrying to the side of the man. "Was it some of those patent thieves?" Then, realizing that a stranger would know nothing of the men who had stolen the model, Tom prepared to change the form of his question. But, before he had an opportunity to do this, the man, whose eyes were closed, opened them, and, as he got a better sight of his face, Tom uttered a cry.
"Why, it's Mr. Duncan!" exclaimed the lad. He had recognized the rich hunter, whom he had first met in the woods that spring shortly after Happy Harry, the tramp, had disabled Tom's motor-cycle. "Mr. Duncan," the young inventor repeated, "how did you get shot?"
"Is that you, Tom Swift?" asked the gunner. "Help me, please. I must stop this bleeding in my arm. I'll tell you about it afterward. Wind something around it tight—your handkerchief will do."
The man sighed weakly and his eyes closed again. The lad saw the blood spurting from an ugly wound.
"I must make a tourniquet," the youth exclaimed. "That will check the bleeding until I can get him to a doctor."
With Tom to think was to act. He took out his knife and cut off Mr. Duncan's sleeves below the injury, slashing through coat and shirts. Then he saw that part of a charge of shot had torn away some of the large muscular development of the upper arm. The hunter seemed to have fainted and the youth worked quickly. Tying his handkerchief above the wound and inserting a small stone under the cloth, so that the pebble would press on the main artery, Tom put a stick in the handkerchief and began to twist it. This had the effect of tightening the linen around the arm, and in a few seconds the lad was glad to see that the blood had stopped spurting out with every beat of the heart. Giving the tourniquet a few more twists to completely stop the flow of blood, Tom fastened the stick-lever in place by a bit of string.
"That's—that's better," murmured Mr. Duncan. "Now if you can go for a doctor—" He had to pause for breath.
"I'll not leave you here alone while I go for a doctor," declared Tom. "I have my motor-boat on the lake. Do you think I could get you down to it and take you home?"
"Perhaps—maybe. I'll be stronger in a moment, now that the bleeding has stopped. But not—not home—frighten my wife. Take me to the sanitarium if you can—sanitarium up the lake, a few miles from here."
The unfortunate man, who had tried to sit upright, had to lean back against the tree again. Tom understood what he meant in spite of the broken sentences. Mr. Duncan did not want to be taken home in the condition he was then in, for fear of alarming his wife. He wanted to be taken to the sanitarium, and Tom knew where this was, a well-known resort for the treatment of various diseases and surgical cases. It was about five miles away and on the opposite shore of the lake.
"Water—a drink!" murmured Mr. Duncan.
Seeing that his patient would be all right, for a few minutes at least, Tom hurried to his motor-boat, got a cup and, filling it with water from a jug he carried, he hastened with it to the hunter. The fluid revived the man wonderfully and now that the bleeding had almost completely stopped, Mr. Duncan was much stronger.
"Do you think you can get to the boat, if I help you?" asked Tom.
"Yes, I believe so. To think of meeting you again, and under such circumstances! It is providential."
"Did someone shoot you?" inquired Tom, who could not get out of his head the notion of the men who had once assaulted him.
"No, I shot myself," answered Mr. Duncan as he got to his feet with Tom's help. "I was out with my gun, practicing just as I was that day when I met you in the woods. I stooped down to crawl under a bush and the weapon went off, the muzzle being close against my arm. I can't understand how it happened. I fell down and called for help. Then I guess I must have fainted, but I came to when I heard you talking to me. I shouldn't have come out to-day as it is so wet, but I had some new shot shells I wished to try in order to test them before the hunting season. But if I can get to the sanitarium, I will be well taken care of. I know one of the doctors there."
With Tom leading him and acting as a sort of support, the journey to the motor-boat was slowly made. Making as comfortable a bed as possible out of the seat cushions, Tom assisted Mr. Duncan to it, and then starting the engine he sent his boat out from shore at half speed, as the fog was still thick and he did not want to run upon a rock.
"Do you know where the sanitarium is?" asked the wounded hunter.
"About," answered Tom a little doubtfully, "but I'm afraid it's going to be hard to locate it in this fog."
"There's a compass in my coat pocket," said Mr. Duncan. "Take it out and I'll tell you how to steer. You ought to carry a compass if you're going to be a sailor."
Tom was beginning to think so himself and wondered that he had not thought of it before. He found the one the hunter had, and placing it on the seat near him, he carefully listened to the wounded man's directions. Tom easily comprehended and soon had the boat headed in the proper direction. After that it was comparatively easy to keep on the right course, even in the fog.
But there was another danger, however, and this was that he might run into another boat. True, there were not many on Lake Carlopa, but there were some, and one of the few motor-boats might be out in spite of the bad weather.
"Guess I'll not run at full speed," decided Tom. "I wouldn't like to crash into the RED STREAK. We'd both sink."
So he did not run his motor at the limit and sat at the steering-wheel, peering ahead into the fog for the first sight of another craft.
He turned to look at Mr. Duncan and was alarmed at the pallor of his face. The man's eyes were closed and he was breathing in a peculiar manner.
"Mr. Duncan," cried Tom, "are you worse?"
There was no answer. Leaving the helm for a moment, Tom bent over the injured hunter. A glance showed him what had happened. The tourniquet had slipped and the wound was bleeding again. Tom quickly shut off the motor, so that he might give his whole attention to the work of tightening the handkerchief. But something seemed to be wrong. No matter how tightly he twisted the stick the blood did not stop flowing. The lad was frightened. In a short time the man would bleed to death.
"I've got to get him to the sanitarium in record time!" exclaimed Tom. "Fog or no fog, I've got to run at full speed! I've got to chance it!"
Making the bandage as tight as he could and fastening it in place, the young inventor sprang to the motor and set it in motion. Then he went to the wheel. In a few minutes the ARROW was speeding through the water as it had never done before, except when it had raced the RED STREAK. "If I hit anything—good-by!" thought Tom grimly. His hands were tense on the rim of the steering-wheel and he was ready in an instant to reverse the motor as he sat there straining his eyes to see through the curtain of mist that hung over the lake. Now and then he glanced at the compass, to keep on the right course, and from time to time he looked at Mr. Duncan. The hunter was still unconscious.
How Tom accomplished that trip he hardly remembered afterward. Through the fog he shot, expecting any moment to crash into some other boat. He did pass a rowing craft in which sat a lone fisherman. The lad was upon him in an instant, but a turn of the wheel sent the ARROW safely past, and the startled fisherman, whose frail craft was set to rocking violently by the swell from the motor-boat, sent an objecting cry through the fog after Tom. But the youth did not reply. On and on he raced, getting the last atom of power from his motor.
He feared Mr. Duncan would be dead when he arrived, but when he saw the dock of the sanitarium looming up out of the mist and shut off the power to slowly run up to it, he placed his hand on the wounded man's heart and found it still beating.
"He's alive, anyhow," thought the youth, and then his craft bumped up against the bulkhead and a man in the boathouse on the dock was sent on the run for a physician.
Mr. Duncan was quickly taken up to the sanitarium on a stretcher and Tom followed.
"You must have made a record run," observed one of the physicians a little while afterward, when Tom was telling of his trip while waiting in the office to hear the report on the hunter's condition.
"I guess I did," muttered the young inventor "only I didn't think so at the time. It seemed as if we were only crawling along."
Under the skill of the physicians at the lake sanitarium Mr. Duncan's wound was quickly attended to and the bleeding, which Tom had partly checked, was completely stopped. Some medicines having been administered, the hunter regained a little of his strength, and, about an hour after he had been brought to the resort, he was able to see Tom, who, at his request, was admitted to his room. The young inventor found Mr. Duncan propped up in bed, with his injured arm bandaged.
"Is the injury a bad one?" asked Tom, entering softly.
"Not as bad as I feared," replied the hunter, while a trained nurse placed a chair for the lad at the bedside. "If it had not been for you, though, I'm afraid to think of what might have happened."
"I am glad I chanced to be going past when you called," replied the lad.
"Well, you can imagine how thankful I am," resumed Mr. Duncan. "I'll thank you more properly at another time. I hope I didn't delay you on your trip."
"It's not of much consequence," responded the youth. "I was only going to see that everything was all right at our house," and he explained about his father being at the hotel and mentioned his worriment. "I will go on now unless I can do something more for you," resumed Tom. "I will probably stay at our house all night to-night instead of trying to get back to Sandport."
"I'd like to send word to my wife about what has happened," said the hunter. "If it would not be too much out of your way, I'd appreciate it if you could stop at my home in Waterford and tell her, so she will not be alarmed at my absence."
"I'll do it," replied our hero. "There is no special need of my hurrying. I have brought your gun and compass up from the boat. They are down in the office."
"Will you do me a favor?" asked Mr. Duncan quickly.
"Of course."
"Then please accept that gun and compass with my compliments. They are both of excellent make, and I don't think I shall use that gun this season. My wife would be superstitious about it. As for the compass, you'll need one in this fog, and I can recommend mine as being accurate."
"Oh, I couldn't think of taking them," expostulated Tom, but his eyes sparkled in anticipation, for he had been wishing for a gun such as Mr. Duncan owned. He also needed a compass.
"If you don't take them I shall feel very much offended," the hunter said, "and the nurse here will tell you that sick persons ought to be humored. Hadn't they?" and he appealed to the pretty young woman, who was smiling at Tom.
"That's perfectly true," she said, showing her white, even teeth. "I think, Mr. Swift, I shall have to order you to take them."
"All right," agreed Tom, "only it's too much for what I did."
"It isn't half enough," remarked Mr. Duncan solemnly. "Just explain matters to my wife, if you will, and tell her the doctor says I can be out in about a week. But I'm not going hunting or practicing shots again."
A little later Tom, with the compass before him to guide him on his course through the fog, was speeding his boat toward Waterford. Now and then he glanced at the fine shotgun which he had so unexpectedly acquired.
"This will come in handy this fall!" he exclaimed. "I'll go hunting quail and partridge as well as wild ducks. This compass is just what I need, too."
Mrs. Duncan was at first very much alarmed when Tom started to tell her of the accident, but she soon calmed down as the lad went more into details and stated how comparatively out of danger her husband now was. The hunter's wife insisted that Tom remain to dinner, and as he had made up his mind he would have to devote two days instead of one to the trip to his house, he consented.
The fog lifted that afternoon, and Tom, rejoicing in the sunlight, which drove away the storm clouds, speeded up the ARROW until she was skimming over the lake like a shaft from a bow.
"This is something like," he exclaimed. "I'll soon be at home, find everything all right and telephone to dad. Then I'll sleep in my own room and start back in the morning."
When Tom was within a few miles of his own boathouse he heard behind him the "put-put" of a motor craft. Turning, he saw the RED STREAK fairly flying along at some distance from him.
"Andy certainly is getting the speed out of her now," he remarked. "He'd beat me if we were racing, but the trouble with his boat and engine is that he can't always depend on it. I guess he doesn't understand how to run it. I wonder if he'll offer to race now?"
But the red-haired owner of the auto boat evidently did not intend to offer Tom a race. The RED STREAK went on down the lake, passing the ARROW about half a mile away. Then the young inventor saw that Andy had two other lads in the boat with him.
"Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey, I guess," he murmured. "Well, they're a trio pretty much alike. The farther off they are the better I like it."
Tom once more gave his attention to his own boat. He was going at a fair speed, but not the limit, and he counted on reaching home in about a half hour. Suddenly, when he was just congratulating himself on the smooth-running qualities of his motor, which had not missed an explosion, the machinery stopped.
"Hello!" exclaimed the young inventor in some alarm. "What's up now?"
He quickly shut off the gasoline and went back to the motor. Now there are so many things that may happen to a gasoline engine that it would be difficult to name them all offhand, and Tom, who had not had very much experience, was at a loss to find what had stopped his machinery. He tried the spark and found that by touching the wire to the top of the cylinder, when the proper connection was, made, that he had a hot, "fat one." The compression seemed all right and the supply pipe from the gasoline tank was in perfect order. Still the motor would not go. No explosion resulted when he turned the flywheel over, not even when he primed the cylinder by putting a little gasoline in through the cocks on the cylinder heads.
"That's funny," he remarked to himself as he rested from his labors and contemplated the "dead" motor. "First time it has gone back on me." The boat was drifting down the lake, and, at the sound of another motor craft approaching, Tom looked up. He saw the RED STREAK, containing Andy Foger and his cronies. They had observed the young inventor's plight.
"Want a tow?" sneered Andy.
"What'll you take for your second-hand boat that won't run?" asked Pete Bailey.
"Better get out of the way or you might be run down," added Sam Snedecker.
Tom was too angry and chagrined to reply, and the RED STREAK swept on.
"I'll make her go, if it takes all night!" declared Tom energetically. Once more he tried to start the motor. It coughed and sighed, as if in protest, but would not explode. Then Tom cried: "The spark plug! That's where the trouble is, I'll wager. Why didn't I think of it before?"
It was the work of but a minute to unscrew the spark plugs from the tops of the cylinders. He found that both had such accumulations of carbon on them that no spark could ever have reached the mixture of gasoline and air.
"I'll put new ones in," he decided, for he carried a few spare plugs for emergencies. Inside of five minutes, with the new plugs in place, the motor was running better than before.
"Now for home!" cried Tom, "and if I meet Andy Foger I'll race him this time."
But the RED STREAK was not in sight, and, a little later, Tom had run the ARROW into the boathouse, locked the door and was on his way up to the mansion.
"I suppose Mrs. Baggert and Garret will be surprised to see me," he remarked. "Maybe they'll think we don't trust them, by coming back in this fashion to see that everything is safe. But then, I suppose, dad is naturally nervous about some of his valuable machinery and inventions. I think I'll find everything all right, though."
As Tom went up the main path and swung off to a side one, which was a short cut to the house, he saw in the dusk, for it was now early evening, a movement in the bushes that lined the walk.
"Hello, Garret!" exclaimed the lad, taking it for granted it was the engineer employed by Mr. Swift.
There was no reply, and Tom, with a sudden suspicion, sprang toward the bushes. The shrubbery was more violently agitated and, as the lad reached the screen of foliage, he saw a man spring up from the ground and take to his heels.
"Here! Who are you? What do you want?" yelled Tom.
Hardly had he spoken when from behind a big apple tree another man sprung. It was light enough so that the lad could see his face, and a glimpse of it caused him to cry out:
"Happy Harry, the tramp!"
Before he could call again the two men had disappeared.