"THERE SHE IS!"
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 wouldrun 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:
