"Garret! Garret Jackson!" cried Tom as he struggled through the hedge of bushes and ran after the men. "Where are you, Garret? Come on and help me chase these men!"
But there came no answer to Tom's hail. He could not hear the sound of the retreating footsteps of the men now and concluded that they had made their escape. Still he would not give up, but dashed on, slipping and stumbling, now and then colliding with a tree.
"What can they be doing here?" thought Tom in great anxiety. "Are they after some more of dad's inventions because they didn't get his turbine motor?"
"Hello! Who's there? Who are you?" called a voice suddenly.
"Oh, Garret! Where have you been?" asked the young inventor, recognizing the tones of his father's keeper. "I've been calling you. Some of those scoundrels are around again!"
"Why if it isn't Tom!" ejaculated the engineer. "However in the world did you get here? I thought you were at Sandport."
"I'll explain later, Garret. Just now I want to catch those men, if I can."
"Which men?"
"Happy Harry and another one. I saw them hiding down by the orchard path. Come on, they're right ahead of us."
But though they hunted as well as they were able to in the fast-gathering darkness, there was no trace of the intruders. They had to give up, and Tom, after going to the boathouse to see that the ARROW was all right, returned to the house, where he told the engineer and housekeeper what had brought him back and how he had surprised the two men.
"Is everything all right, Garret?" he concluded. "Dad is nervous and frightened. I must telephone him at the hotel to-night and let him know, for I promised to come back. I can't, though, until to-morrow."
"Everything is all right as far as I know," answered Jackson. "I've kept a careful watch and the burglar alarm has been in working order. Mrs. Baggert and I haven't been disturbed a single night since you went away. It's curious that the men should be here the very night you come back. Maybe they followed you."
"I hardly think so, for they didn't know I was coming."
"You can't tell what those fellows know," commented the engineer. "But, anyhow, I don't suppose they could have gotten here from Sandport as soon as you did."
"Oh, yes they could, in their automobile," declared Tom. "But I don't believe they knew I was coming. They knew we were away, however, and thought it would be a good time to steal something, I guess. Are you sure nothing has been taken?"
"Perfectly sure, but you and I will take a look around the shop."
They made a hasty examination, but found nothing disturbed and no signs that anyone had tried to break in.
"I think I'll telephone dad that everything is all right," decided Tom. "It is as far as his inventions are concerned, and if I tell about seeing the men it will only worry him. I can explain that part better when I see him. But when I go back, Garret, you will have to be on your guard, since those men are in the neighborhood."
"I will, Tom. Don't worry."
Mr. Swift was soon informed by his son over the telephone that nothing in the shops had been disturbed, and the inventor received the news with evident satisfaction. He requested Tom to come back to the hotel in the morning, in order that the three of them might go for a ride about the lake in the afternoon, and Tom decided to make an early start.
The night passed without incident, though Tom, who kept the gun Mr. Duncan had given him in readiness for use, got up several times, thinking he heard suspicious noises. After an early breakfast, and having once more cautioned the engineer and housekeeper to be on their guard, Tom started back in the ARROW.
As it would not be much out of his way, the young inventor decided to cut across the lake and stop at the sanitarium, that he might inquire about Mr. Duncan. He thought he could speed the ARROW up sufficiently to make up for any time he might lose, and, with this in mind, he headed out toward the middle of Lake Carlopa. The engine was working splendidly with the new spark plugs, and Tom was wondering if there was any possible method of getting more revolutions out of the motor. He had about come to the conclusion that a new propeller might answer his purpose when he heard the noise of an approaching boat. He looked up quickly and exclaimed:
"Andy Foger again, and Pete and Sam are with him. It's a wonder he wouldn't go off on a trip instead of cruising around so near home. Guess he's afraid he'll get stuck."
Idly Tom watched the RED STREAK. It was cutting through the water at a fast rate, throwing up curling foam on either side of the sharp bow. "He seems to be heading this way," mused Tom. "Well, I'm not going to race with him to-day."
Nearer and nearer came the speedy craft, straight for the ARROW. The young inventor shifted his helm in order to get out of Andy's course, but to his surprise he saw that the red haired lad changed the direction of his own boat.
"Guess he wants to see how close he can come to me," thought our hero. "Maybe he wants to show how fast he's going."
The RED STREAK was now so close that the features of the occupants could easily be distinguished. There were grins on the faces of Andy and his cronies.
"Get out of the way or we'll run you down!" cried the bully. "We've got the right of way."
"Don't you try anything like that!" shouted Tom in some alarm, not that he was afraid of Andy, but the RED STREAK was getting dangerously near, and he knew Andy was not a skillful helmsman. The auto-boat was now headed directly at the ARROW and coming on speedily. Andy was bending over the wheel and Tom had begun to turn his, in order to get well out of the way of the insolent, squint-eyed lad and his friends.
Suddenly Andy uttered a cry and leaped up.
"Look out! Look out!" he yelled. "My steering gear has broken! I can't change my course. Look out!"
The RED STREAK was bearing right down on Tom's boat.
"Shut off your power! Reverse!" shouted Tom.
Andy seemed confused and did not know what to do. Sam Snedecker sprang to the side of his crony, but he knew even less about a motor-boat. It looked as if Tom would be run down, and he was in great danger.
But the young inventor did not lose his head. He put his wheel hard over and then, leaping to his motor, sent it full speed forward. Not a moment too soon had he acted, for an instant later the other boat shot past the stern of the ARROW, hitting it a severe but glancing blow. Tom's boat quivered from end to end and he quickly shut off the power. By this time Andy had succeeded in slowing down his craft. The young inventor hastily looked over the side of the ARROW. One of the rudder fastenings had been torn loose.
"What do you mean by running me down?" shouted Tom angrily.
"I—I didn't do it on purpose," returned Andy contritely. "I was seeing how near I could come to you when my steering gear broke. I hope I haven't damaged you."
"My rudder's broken," went on Tom "and I've got to put back to repair it. I ought to have you arrested for this!"
"I'll pay for the damage," replied Andy, and he was so frightened that he was white, in spite of his tan and freckles.
"That won't do me any good now," retorted Tom. "It will delay me a couple of hours. If you try any tricks like that again, I'll complain to the authorities and you won't be allowed to run a boat on this lake."
Andy knew that his rival was in the right and did not reply. The bully and his cronies busied themselves over the broken steering gear, and the young inventor, finding that he could make a shift to get back to his boathouse, turned his craft around and headed for there, in order to repair the damage.
Paying no heed to the occupants of the bully's boat, who, by reason of their daring, had been responsible for his accident that might have resulted seriously, Tom was soon at his dock. He had it conveniently arranged for hoisting craft out of the water to repair them, and in a few minutes the stern of the ARROW was elevated so that he could get at the rudder.
"Well, it's not as bad as I thought," he remarked when, with critical eye, he had noted the damage done. "I can fix it in about an hour if Garret helps me."
Going up to the house to get some tools and to tell the engineer that he had returned, Tom looked out over the lake and saw Andy's boat moving slowly off.
"They've got her fixed up in some kind of shape," he murmured. "It's a shame for a chump like Andy to have a good boat like that. He'll spoil it in one season. He's getting altogether too reckless. First thing he knows, he and I will have a clash and I'll pay back some of the old scores."
Mr. Jackson was much surprised to see the young inventor home again so soon, as was also Mrs. Baggert. Tom explained what had happened, and he and the engineer went to work repairing the damage done by the RED STREAK. As the owner of the ARROW had anticipated, the work did not take long, and, shortly before dinner time, the boat was ready to resume the interrupted trip to Sandport.
"Better stay and have lunch," urged Mrs. Baggert. "You can hardly get to the hotel by night, anyhow, and maybe it would be better not to start until to-morrow."
"No, I must get back to-night or dad would be worried," declared Tom. "I've been gone longer now than I calculated on. But I will have dinner here, and, if necessary, I can do the last half of the trip after dark. I know the way now and I have a compass and a good searchlight."
The ARROW was let down into the water again and tied outside the boathouse ready for a quick start. The dinner Mrs. Baggert provided was so good that Tom lingered over it longer than he meant to, and he asked for a second apple dumpling with hard sauce on. So it was with a very comfortable feeling indeed and with an almost forgiving spirit toward Andy Foger that our hero started down the path to the lake.
"Now for a quick run to Sandport," he said aloud. "I hope I shan't see any more of those men and that dad hasn't been bothered by them. His suspicions about the house weren't altogether unfounded, for I did see the tramp and some one else sneaking around, but I don't believe they'll come back now."
Tom swung around the path that led to the dock. As he came in sight of the water, he stared as if he could not believe what he saw, or, rather, what he did not see. For there was no craft tied to the string-piece, where he had fastened his motor-boat. He looked again, rubbed his eyes to make sure and then cried out:
"The ARROW is gone!"
There was no doubt of it. The craft was not at the dock. Breaking into a run, Tom hastened to the boathouse. The ARROW was not in there, and a look across the lake showed only a few rowboats in sight.
"That's mighty funny," mused the youth. "I wonder—"
He paused suddenly in his thoughts.
"Maybe Garret took it out to try and see that it worked all right," he said hopefully. "He knows how to run a boat. Maybe he wanted to see how the rudder behaved and is out in it now. He got through dinner before I did. But I should have thought he'd have said something to me if he was going out in it."
This was the one weak point in Tom's theory, and he felt it at once.
"I'll see if Garret is in his shop," he went on as he turned back toward the house.
The first person he met as he headed for the group of small structures where Mr. Swift's inventive work was carried on was Garret Jackson, the engineer.
"I—I thought you were out in my boat!" stammered Tom.
"Your boat! Why would I be out in your boat?" and Mr. Jackson removed his pipe from his mouth and stared at the young inventor.
"Because it's gone!"
"Gone!" repeated the engineer, and then Tom told him. The two hurried down to the dock, but the addition of another pair of eyes was of no assistance in locating the ARROW. The trim little motor craft was nowhere to be seen.
"I can't understand it," said Tom helplessly. "I wasn't gone more than an hour at dinner, and yet—"
"It doesn't take long to steal a motor-boat," commented the engineer.
"But I think I would have heard them start it," went on the lad. "Maybe it drifted off, though I'm sure I tied it securely."
"No, there's not much likelihood of that. There's no wind to-day and no currents in the lake. But it could easily have been towed off by some one in a rowboat and then you would not have heard the motor start."
"That's so," agreed the youth. "That's probably how they did it. They sneaked up here in a rowboat and towed the ARROW off. I'm sure of it."
"And I'll wager I know who did it," exclaimed Mr. Jackson energetically.
"Who?" demanded Tom quickly.
"Those men who were sneaking around—Happy Harry and his gang. They stole the boat once and they'd do it again. Those men took your boat, Tom."
The young inventor shook his head.
"No," he answered, "I don't believe they did."
"Why not?"
"Well, because they wouldn't dare come back here when they knew we're on the lookout for them. It would be too risky."
"Oh, those fellows don't care for risk," was the opinion of Mr. Jackson. "Take my word for it, they have your boat. They have been keeping watch, and as soon as they saw the dock unprotected they sneaked up and stole the ARROW."
"I don't think so," repeated Mr. Swift's son.
"Who do you think took it then?"
"Andy Foger!" was the quick response. "I believe he and his cronies did it to annoy me. They have been trying to get even with me-or at least Andy has—for outbidding him on this boat. He's tried several times, but he hasn't succeeded—until now. I'm sure Andy Foger has my boat," and Tom, with a grim tightening of his lips, swung around as though to start in instant pursuit.
"Where are you going?" asked Mr. Jackson.
"To find Andy and his cronies. When I locate them I'll make them tell me where my boat is."
"Hadn't you better send some word to your father? You can hardly get to Sandport now, and he'll be worried about you."
"That's so, I will. I'll telephone dad that the boat—no, I'll not do that either, for he'd only worry and maybe get sick. I'll just tell him I've had a little accident, that Andy ran into me and that I can't come back to the hotel for a day or two. Maybe I'll be lucky to find my boat in that time. But dad won't worry then, and, when I see him, I can explain. That's what I'll do," and Tom was soon talking to Mr. Swift by telephone.
The inventor was very sorry his son could not come back to rejoin him and Ned, but there was no help for it, and, with as cheerful voice as he could assume, the lad promised to start for Sandport at the earliest opportunity.
"Now to find Andy and my boat!" Tom exclaimed as he hung up the telephone receiver.
Trouble is sometimes good in a way; it makes a person resourceful. Tom Swift had had his share of annoyances of late, but they had served a purpose. He had learned to think clearly and quickly. Now, when he found his boat stolen, he at once began to map out a plan of action.
"What will you do first?" asked Mr. Jackson as he saw his employer's son hesitating.
"First I'm going to Andy Foger's house," declared the young inventor. "If he's home I'm going to tell him what I think of him. If he's not, I'm going to find him."
"Why don't you take your sailboat and run down to his dock?" suggested the engineer. "It isn't as quick as your motor-boat, but it's better than walking."
"So it is," exclaimed the lad. "I will use my catboat. I had forgotten all about it of late. I'm glad you spoke."
He was soon sailing down the lake in the direction of the boathouse on the waterfront of Mr. Foger's property. It needed but a glance around the dock to show him that the RED STREAK was not there, but Tom recollected the accident to the steering gear and thought perhaps Andy had taken his boat to some wharf where there was a repair shop and there left it to return home himself. But inquiry of Mrs. Foger, who was as nice a woman as her son was a mean lad, gave Tom the information that his enemy was not at home.
"He telephoned to me that his boat was damaged," said Mrs. Foger gently, "and that he had taken it to get fixed. Then, he said, he and some friends were going on a little cruise and might not be back to-night."
"Did he say where he was going?" asked our hero, who did not tell Andy's mother why he wanted to see her son.
"No, and I'm worried about him. Sometimes I think Andy is too—well, too impetuous, and I'm afraid he will get into trouble."
Tom, in spite of his trouble, could hardly forbear smiling. Andy's mother was totally unaware of the mean traits of her son and thought him a very fine chap. Tom was not going to undeceive her.
"I'm afraid something will happen to him," she went on. "Do you think there is any danger being out on the lake in a motor-boat, Mr. Swift? I understand you have one."
"Yes, I have one," answered Tom. He was going to say he had once had one, but thought better of it. "No, there is very little danger this time of year," he added.
"I am very glad to hear you say so," went on Mrs. Foger with a sigh. "I shall feel more at ease when Andy is away now. When he returns home, I shall tell him you called upon him and he will return your visit. I am glad to see that the custom of paying calls has not died out among the present generation. It is a pleasant habit, and I am glad to have my son conform to it. He shall return your kind visit."
"Oh, no, it's of no consequence," replied Tom quickly, thinking grimly that his visit was far from a friendly one. "There is no need to tell your son I was here. I will probably see him in a day or two.
"Oh, but I shall tell him," insisted Mrs. Foger with a kind smile. "I'm sure he will appreciate your call."
There was much doubt concerning this in the mind of the young inventor, but he did not express it and soon took his leave. Up and down the lake for the rest of the day he cruised, looking in vain for a sight of Andy Foger in the RED STREAK, but the racing boat appeared to be well hidden.
"If I only could find where they've taken mine," mused Tom. "Hang it all, this is rotten luck!" and for the first time he began to feel discouraged.
"Maybe you'd better notify the police," suggested Mr. Jackson when Tom returned to the Swift house that night. "They might help locate it."
"I think I can do as well as the police," answered the youth. "If the boat is anywhere it's on the lake, and the police have no craft in which to make a search."
"That's so," agreed the engineer. "I wish I could help you, but I don't believe it would be wise for me to leave the house, especially since those men have been about lately."
"No, you must stay here," was Tom's opinion. "I'll take another day or two to search. By this time Andy and his gang will return, I'm sure, and I can tackle them."
"Suppose they don't?"
"Well, then I'll make a tour of the lake in my sailboat and I'll run up to Sandport and tell dad, for he will wonder what's keeping me. I'll know better next time than to leave my boat at the dock without taking out the connection at the spark coil, so no one can start the motor. I should have done that at first, but you always think of those things afterward."
The lad began his search again the next morning and cruised about in little bays and gulfs looking for a sight of the RED STREAK or the ARROW, but he saw neither, and a call at Andy's house showed that the red-haired youth had not returned. Mrs. Foger was quite nervous over her son's continued absence, but Mr. Foger thought it was all right.
Another day passed without any results and the young inventor was getting so nervous, partly with worrying over the loss of his boat and partly on his father's account, that he did not know what to do.
"I can't stand it any longer," he announced to Mrs. Baggert the night of the third day, after a telephone message had been received from Mr. Swift. The inventor wanted to know why his son did not return to the hotel to join him and Ned. "Well, what will you do?" asked the housekeeper.
"If I don't find my boat to-morrow, I'll sail to Sandport, bring home dad and Ned and we three will go all over the lake. My boat must be on it somewhere, but Lake Carlopa is so cut up that it could easily be hidden."
"It's queer that the Foger boy doesn't come home. That makes it look as if he was guilty."
"Oh, I'm sure he took it all right," returned Tom. "All I want is to see him. It certainly is queer that he stays away as long as he does. Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey are with him, too. But they'll have to return some time."
Tom dreamed that night of finding his boat and that it was a wreck. He awoke, glad to find that the latter part was not true, but wishing that some of his night vision might come to pass during the day.
He started out right after breakfast, and, as usual, headed for the Foger home. He almost disliked to ask Mrs. Foger if her son had yet returned, for Andy's mother was so polite and so anxious to know whether any danger threatened that Tom hardly knew how to answer her. But he was saved that embarrassment on this occasion, for as he was going up the walk from the lake to the residence he met the gardener and from him learned that Andy had not yet come back.
"But his mother had a message from him, I did hear," went on the man. "He's on his way. It seems he had some trouble."
"Trouble. What kind of trouble?" asked Tom.
"I don't rightly know, sir, but," and here the gardener winked his eye, "Master Andy isn't particular what kind of trouble he gets into."
"That's right," agreed our hero, and as he went down again to where he had left his boat he thought: "Nor what kind of trouble he gets other people into. I wish I had hold of him for about five minutes!"
The sailboat swung slowly from the dock and heeled over to the gentle breeze. Hardly knowing what to do, Tom headed for the middle of the lake. He was discouraged and tired of making plans only to have them fail.
As he looked across the stretch of water he saw a boat coming toward him. He shaded his eyes with his hand to see better, and then, with a pair of marine glasses, took an observation. He uttered an exclamation.
"That's the RED STREAK as sure as I'm alive!" he cried. "But what's the matter with her? They're rowing!"
The lad headed his boat toward the approaching one. There was no doubt about it. It was Andy Foger's craft, but it was not speeding forward under the power of the motor. Slowly and laborious the occupants were pulling it along, and as it was not meant to be rowed, progress was very slow.
"They've had a breakdown," thought Tom. "Serves 'em right! Now wait till I tackle 'em and find out where my boat is. I've a good notion to have Andy Foger arrested!"
The sailing craft swiftly approached the motor-boat. Tom could see the three occupants looking at him, apprehensively as well as curiously, he thought.
"Guess they didn't think I'd keep after 'em," mused the young inventor, and a little later he was beside the RED STREAK.
"Well," cried Tom angrily, "it's about time you came back!"
"We've had a breakdown," remarked Andy, and he seemed quite humiliated. He was beginning to find out that he didn't know as much about a motor-boat as he thought he did.
"I've been waiting for you," went on Tom.
"Waiting for us? What for?" asked Sam Snedecker.
"What for? As if you didn't know!" blurted out the owner of the ARROW. "I want my boat, Andy Foger, the one you stole from me and hid! Tell me where it is at once or I'll have you arrested!"
"Your boat!" repeated the bully, and there was no mistaking the surprise in his tones.
"Yes, my boat! Don't try to bluff me like that."
"I'm not trying to bluff you. We've been away, three days and just got back."
"Yes, I know you have. You took my boat with you, too."
"Are you crazy?" demanded Pete Bailey.
"No, but you fellows must have been to think you could take my boat and me not know it," and Tom, filled with wrath, grasped the gunwale of the RED STREAK as if he feared it would suddenly shoot away.
"Look here!" burst out Andy, and he spoke sincerely, "we didn't touch your boat. Did we, fellows?"
"No!" exclaimed Sam and Pete at once, and they were very much in earnest.
"We didn't even know it was stolen, did we?" went on Andy.
"No," agreed his chums. Tom looked unconvinced.
"We haven't taken your boat and we can prove it," continued the bully. "I know you and I have had quarrels, but I'm telling you the truth, Tom Swift. I never touched your boat."
There was no mistaking the sincerity of Andy. He was not a skilful deceiver, and Tom, looking into his squint-eyes, which were opened unusually wide, could not but help believing the fellow.
"We haven't seen it since the day we had the collision," added Andy, and his chums confirmed this statement.
"We went off on a little cruise," continued the red-haired bully, "and broke down several times. We had bad luck. Just as we were nearing home something went wrong with the engine again. I never saw such a poor motor. But we never took your boat, Tom Swift, and we can prove it."
Tom was in despair. He had been so sure that Andy was the thief, that to believe otherwise was difficult. Yet he felt that he must. He looked at the disabled motor of the RED STREAK and viewed it with the interested and expert eye of a machinist, no matter if the owner of it was his enemy. Then suddenly a brilliant idea came into Tom's head.
"You seem to have lots of trouble with your boat, Andy," said Tom after a few moments of rather embarrassed silence.
"I do," admitted the owner of the RED STREAK. "I've had bad luck ever since I got it, but usually I've been able to fix it by looking in the book. This time I can't find out what the trouble is, nor can any of the fellows. It stopped when we were out in the middle of the lake and we had to row. I'm sick of motor boating."
"Suppose I fix it for you?" went on Tom.
"If you do, I'll pay you well."
"I wouldn't do it for pay—not the kind you mean," continued the young inventor.
"What do you mean then?" and Andy's face, that had lighted up, became glum again.
"Well, if I fix your boat for you, will you let me run it a little while?"
"You mean show me how to run it?"
"No, I mean take it myself. Look here, Andy, my boat's been stolen, and I thought you took it to get even with me. You say you didn't—"
"And I didn't touch it," interposed the squint-eyed lad quickly.
"All right, I believe you. But somebody stole it, and I think I know who."
"Who?" asked Sam Snedecker.
"Well, you wouldn't know if I told you, but I suspect some men with whom I had trouble before," and Tom referred to Happy Harry and his gang. "I think they have my boat on this lake, and I'd like to get another speedy craft to cruise about it and make a further search. How about it, Andy? If I fix your boat, will you let me take it to look for my boat?"
"Sure thing!" agreed the bully quickly, and his voice for once was friendly toward Tom. "Fix the engine so it will run, and you can use the RED STREAK as long as you like."
"Oh, I probably wouldn't want it very long. I could cover the lake in about three days, and I hope by that time I could locate the thieves. Is it a bargain?"
"Sure," agreed Andy again, and Tom got into the motor-boat to look at the engine. He found that it would require some time to adjust it properly and that it would be necessary to take the motor apart.
"I think I'd better tow you to my dock," the young inventor said to Andy. "I can use some tools from the shop then, and by to-night I'll have the RED STREAK in running order."
The breeze was in the right quarter, fortunately, and with the motor-boat dragging behind, the ARROW's owner put the nose of the sailing craft toward his home dock.
When Tom reached his house he found that Mrs. Baggert had received another telephone message from Mr. Swift, inquiring why his son had not returned to Sandport.
"He says if you don't come back by to-morrow," repeated the housekeeper, "that he'll come home by train. He's getting anxious, I believe."
"Shouldn't wonder," admitted Tom. "But I want him to stay there. The change will do him good. I'll soon have my boat back, now that I can go about the lake swiftly, and then I'll join him. I'll tell him to be patient."
Tom talked with his father at some length, assuring him that everything was well at the Shopton house and promising to soon be with him. Then the young inventor began work on the motor of the RED STREAK. He found it quite a job and had to call on Mr. Jackson to help him, for one of the pistons had to be repaired and a number of adjustments made to the cylinders.
But that night the motor was fully mended and placed back in the boat. It was in better shape than it had been since Andy had purchased the craft.
"There," remarked Tom, "now I'm ready to hunt for those scoundrels. Will you leave your boat at my dock to-night, Andy?"
"Yes, so you can start out early in the morning. I'm not going."
"Why not?" demanded Tom quickly.
"Well—er—you see I've had enough of motoring for a while," explained Andy. "Besides, I don't believe my mother would like me to go out on a chase after thieves. If we had to shoot I might hit one of them, and—"
"Oh, I see," answered Tom. "But I don't like to take your boat alone. Besides, I don't fancy there will be much shooting. I know I'm not going to take a gun. In fact, the one Mr. Duncan gave me is in the boat. All I want is to get the ARROW back."
"That's all right," went on Andy. "You take my boat and use it as long as you like. I'll rest up a few days. When you find your boat you can bring mine back."
Tom understood. He was just as glad not to have Andy accompany him in the chase, as he and the red-haired lad had never been good friends and probably never would be. So it would cause some embarrassment to be together in a boat all day. Then again Tom knew he could manage the RED STREAK better alone, but, of course, he did not want to mention this when he asked for the loan of the craft. Andy's own suggestion, however, had solved the difficulty. Tom had an idea that Andy felt a little timid about going in pursuit of the thieves, but naturally it would not do to mention this, for the squint-eyed lad considered himself quite a fighter.
Early the next morning, alone in the RED STREAK, Tom continued the search for his stolen boat. He started out from his home dock and mapped out a course that would take him well around the lake.
"I s'pose I could take a run to Sandport now," mused the youth as he shot in and out of the little bays, keeping watch for the ARROW. "But if I do dad will have to be told all about it, and, he'll worry. Then, too, he might want to accompany me, and I think I can manage this better alone, for the RED STREAK will run faster with only one in. I ought to wind up this search in two days, if my boat is still on the lake. And if those scoundrels have sunk her I'll make them pay for it."
On shot the speedy motor-boat, in and out along the winding shoreline, with the lad in the bow at the steering-wheel peering with eager eyes into every nook and corner where his craft might be hidden.
Anticipating that he would be some time on his search, the young inventor had gone prepared for it. He had a supply of provisions and he had told Mrs. Baggert he might not be back that night. But he did not intend to sleep aboard the RED STREAK, which, being a racing boat, was not large enough to afford much room for passengers. Tom had planned, therefore, to put up at some hotel near the lake in case his hunt should last beyond one night.
That it would do this was almost certain, for all that morning he searched unavailingly for the ARROW. A distant mill whistle sounding over Lake Carlopa told him it was noon.
"Dinner time," he announced to himself. "Guess I'll run up along shore in the shade and eat."
Selecting a place where the trees overhung the water, forming a quiet, cool nook, Tom sent the boat in there, and, tying it to a leaning tree, he began his simple meal. Various thoughts filled his mind, but chief among them was the desire to overtake the thieves who had his boat. That it was Happy Harry's gang he was positive.
The lad nearly finished eating and was considering what direction he might best search in next when he heard, running along a road that bordered the lake, an automobile.
"Wonder who that is?" mused Tom. "It won't do any harm to take a look, for it might be some of those thieves again. They probably still have their auto or Happy Harry couldn't have gotten from Sandport to Shopton so quickly."
The young inventor slipped ashore from the motor-boat, taking care to make no noise. Stealing silently along toward the road, he peered through the underbrush for a sight of the machine, which seemed to be going slowly. But before the youth had a glimpse of it he was made aware who the occupant was by hearing someone exclaim:
"Bless my shoe laces if this cantankerous contraption isn't going wrong again! I wonder if it's going to have a fit here in this lonely place. It acts just as if it was. Bless my very existence! Hold on now. Be nice! Be nice!"
"Mr. Damon!" exclaimed Tom, and, without knowing it, he had spoken aloud.
"Hold on there! Hold on! Who's calling me in this forsaken locality? Bless my shirt studs! But who is it?" and the eccentric man who had sold Tom the motor-cycle looked intently at the bushes.
"Here I am, Mr. Damon," answered the lad, stepping out into the road. "I knew it was you as soon as I saw you."
"Bless my liver, but that's very true! I suppose you heard my unfortunate automobile puffing along. I declare I don't know what ails it. I got it on the advice of my physician, who said I must get out in the air, but, bless my gears, it's the auto who needs a doctor more than I do! It's continually out of order. Something is going to happen right away. I can tell by the way it's behaving."
Mr. Damon had thrown out the clutch, but the engine was still running, though in a jerky, uncertain fashion, which indicated to the trained ear of the young inventor that something was wrong.
"Perhaps I can fix it for you as I did before," ventured Tom.
"Bless my eyebrows! Perhaps you can," cried the eccentric man hopefully. "You always seem to turn up at the right moment. How do you manage it?"
"I don't know. I remember the time you turned up just when I wanted you to help me capture Happy Harry and his gang, and now, by, a strange coincidence, I'm after them again."
"You don't say so! My good gracious! Bless my hatband! But that's odd. There!" he ejaculated suddenly as the automobile engine stopped with a choking sigh, "I knew something was going to happen."
"Let me take a look," proposed the lad, and he was soon busy peering into the interior of the machine. At first he could not find the trouble, but being a persistent youth, Tom went at it systematically and located it in two places. The clutch was not rightly adjusted and the carburetor float feed needed fixing. The young inventor was not long in making the slight repairs and then he assured Mr. Damon that his automobile would run properly.
"Bless my very existence, but what a thing it is to have a head for mechanics!" exclaimed the odd man gratefully. "Now it would bother me to adjust a nutmeg grater if it got out of order, but I dare say you could fix it in no time."
"Yes," answered Tom, "I could and so could you, for there's nothing about it to fix. But you can go ahead now if you wish."
"Thank you. It just shows how ignorant I am of machinery. I presume something will go wrong in another mile or two. But may I ask what you are doing here? I presume you are in your motor-boat, sailing about for pleasure. And didn't I understand you to say you were after those chaps again? Bless my watch charm, but I was so interested in my machine that I didn't think to ask you."
"Yes, I am after those thieves again."
"In your motor-boat, I presume. Well, I hope you catch them. What have they stolen now?"
"My motor-boat. That's why I'm after them, but I had to borrow a craft to chase them with."
"Bless my soul! You don't tell me! How did it happen?"
Thereupon the lad related as much of the story as was necessary to put Mr. Damon in possession of the facts and he ended up with:
"I don't suppose you have seen anything of the men in my boat, have you?"
Mr. Damon seemed strangely excited. He had entered his auto, but as the lad's story progressed the odd gentleman had descended. When Tom finished he exclaimed:
"Don't say a word now—not a word. I want to think, and that is a process, which, for me, requires a little time. Don't speak a word now. Bless my left hand, but I think I can help you!"
He frowned, stamped first one foot, then the other, looked up at the sky, as if seeking inspiration there, and then down at the ground, as if that would help him to think. Then he clapped his hands smartly together and cried out:
"Bless my shoe buttons!"
"Have you seen them?" asked Tom eagerly.
"Was your boat one with a red arrow painted on the bow?" asked Mr. Damon in turn.
"It was!" and the lad was now almost as excited as was his friend.
"Then I've seen it and, what's more, this morning! Bless my spark plug, I've seen it!"
"Tell me about it!" pleaded the young inventor, and Mr. Damon, calming himself after an effort, resumed:
"I was out for an early spin in my auto," he said, "and was traveling along a road that bordered the lake, about fifteen miles above here. I heard a motor-boat puffing along near shore, and, looking through the trees, I saw one containing three men. It had a red arrow on the bow, and that's why I noticed it, because I recalled that your boat was named the DART."
"ARROW," corrected Tom.
"The ARROW. Oh, yes, I knew it was something like that. Well of course at the time I didn't think that it was your boat, but I associated it in my mind with yours. Do you catch my meaning?"
Tom did and said so, wishing Mr. Damon would hurry and get to the point. But the eccentric character had to do things in his own way.
"Exactly," he resumed. "Well, I didn't think that was your boat, but, at the same time, I watched the men out of curiosity, and I was struck with their behavior. They seemed to be quarreling, and, from what I could hear, two of them seemed to be remonstrating with the third one for having taken some sort of a piece of wood from the forward compartment. I believe that is the proper term."
"Yes!" Tom almost shouted. "But where did they go? What became of them? What was the man doing to the forward compartment—where the gasoline tank is?"
"Exactly. I was trying to think what was kept there. That's it, the gasoline tank. Well, the boat kept on up the lake, and I don't know what became of the men. But about that piece of wood. It seems that one of the men removed a block, from under the tank and the others objected. That's why they were quarreling."
"That's very strange," exclaimed the lad. "There must be some mystery about my boat that I don't understand. But that will keep until I get the boat itself. Good-by, Mr. Damon. I must be off."
"Where to?"
"Up the lake after those thieves. I must lose no time," and Tom started to go back to where he had left the RED STREAK.
"Hold on!" cried Mr. Damon. "I have something to propose, Tom. Two heads are better than one, even if one doesn't know how to adjust a nutmeg grate. Suppose I come along with you? I can point out the direction the men took, at any rate."
"I'll be very glad to have you," answered the lad, who felt that he might need help if there were three of the thieves in his craft. "But what will you do with your automobile?"
"I'll just run it down the road a way to where a friend of mine has a stable. I'll leave it in there and join you. Will you let me come? Bless my eye glasses, but I'd like to help catch those scoundrels!"
"I'll be very glad to have you. Go ahead, put the auto in the barn and I'll wait for you."
"I have a better plan than that," replied Mr. Damon. "Run your boat down to that point," and he indicated one about a mile up the lake. "I'll be there waiting for you, and we'll lose no time. I can cover the ground faster in my auto than you can in your boat."
Tom saw the advantage of this and was soon under way, while he heard on shore the puffing of his friend's car. On the trip to the point Tom puzzled over the strange actions of the man in taking one of the braces from under the gasoline tank.
"I'll wager he did it before," thought the lad. "It must be the same person who was tampering with the lock of the forward compartment the day I bought the boat. But why—that's the question—why?"
He could find no answer to this, puzzle over it as he did, and he gave it up. His whole desire now was to get on the trail of the thieves, and he had strong hopes, after the clew Mr. Damon had given him. The latter was waiting for him on the point, and so nimble was the owner of the auto, in spite of his size, that Tom was not delayed more than the fraction of a minute ere he was under way again, speeding up the lake.
"Now keep well in toward shore," advised Mr. Damon. "Those fellows don't want to be observed any more than they can help, and they'll sneak along the bank, They were headed in that direction," and he pointed it out. "Now I hope you won't think I'm in the way. Besides, you know, if you get your boat back, you'll want some one to help steer it, while you run this one. I can do that, at all events, bless my very existence!"
"I am very glad of your help," replied the lad, but he did not take his eyes from the water before him, and he was looking for a sight of his boat with the men in it.
For three hours or more Tom and Mr. Damon cruised in and out along the shore of the lake, going farther and farther up the body of water. Tom was beginning to think that he would reach Sandport without catching sight of the thieves, and he was wondering if, after all, he might not better stop off and see his father when, above the puffing of the motor in the RED STREAK, he heard the put-put of another boat.
"Listen!" cried Mr. Damon, who had heard it at the same time.
Tom nodded.
"They're just ahead of us," whispered his companion.
"If it's them," was the lad's reply.
"Speed up and we'll soon see," suggested Mr. Damon, and Tom shoved the timer over. The RED STREAK forged ahead. The sound of the other boat came more plainly now. It was beyond a little point of land. The young inventor steered out to get around it and leaned eagerly forward to catch the first glimpse of the unseen craft. Would it prove to be the ARROW?
The put-put became louder now. Mr. Damon was standing up, as if that would, in some mysterious way, help. Then suddenly the other boat came into view. Tom saw it in an instant and knew it for the ARROW.
"There she is!" he cried.