CHAPTER XII.
THE MEN IN THE AUTO
Tom first made sure that the package containing the model was stillsafely in place back of his saddle on the motor-cycle. Finding itthere he next put his hand in his pocket to see that he had thepapers.
"They're all right," spoke Tom aloud. "I didn't know but what thatchap might have worked a pickpocket game on me. I'm glad I didn'tmeet him after dark. Well, it's a good thing it's no worse. I wonderif he tried to get my machine away from me? Don't believe he'd knowhow to ride it if he did."
Tom wheeled his motor-cycle to a hard side-path along the old road,and jumped into the saddle. He worked the pedals preparatory toturning on the gasolene and spark to set the motor in motion. As hethrew forward the levers, having acquired what he thought was thenecessary momentum, he was surprised that no explosion followed. Themotor seemed "dead."
"That's queer," he thought, and he began to pedal more rapidly. "Italways used to start easily. Maybe it doesn't like this sandyroad."
It was hard work sending the heavy machine along by "leg power," andonce more, when he had acquired what he thought was sufficientspeed, Tom turned on the power. But no explosions followed, and insome alarm he jumped to the ground.
"Something's wrong," he said aloud. "That tramp must have damagedthe machine when he yanked it so." Tom went quickly over thedifferent parts. It did not take him long to discover what thetrouble was. One of the wires, leading from the batteries to themotor, which wire served to carry the current of electricity thatexploded the mixture of air and gasolene, was missing. It had beenbroken off close to the battery box and the spark plug.
"That's what Happy Harry did!" exclaimed Tom. "He pulled that wireoff when he yanked my machine. That's what he meant by hoping I'dget to Albany. That fellow was no tramp. He was disguised, and up tosome game. And he knows something about motor-cycles, too, or henever would have taken that wire. I'm stalled, now, for I haven'tgot another piece. I ought to have brought some. I'll have to pushthis machine until I get to town, or else go back home."
The young inventor looked up and down the lonely road, undecidedwhat to do. To return home meant that he would be delayed in gettingto Albany, for he would lose a day. If he pushed on to Pompville hemight be able to get a bit of wire there.
Tom decided that was his best plan, and plodded on through the thicksand. He had not gone more than a quarter of a mile, every stepseeming harder than the preceding one, when he heard, from the woodsclose at his left hand, a gun fired. He jumped so that he nearly letthe motor-cycle fall over, for a wild idea came into his head thatthe tramp had shot at him. With a quickly-beating heart the ladlooked about him.
"I wonder if that was Happy Harry?" he mused.
There was a crackling in the bushes and Tom, wondering what he mightdo to protect himself, looked toward the place whence the noiseproceeded. A moment later a hunter stepped into view. The mancarried a gun and wore a canvas suit, a belt about his waist beingfilled with cartridges.
"Hello!" he exclaimed pleasantly, Then, seeing a look of alarm onthe lad's face, he went on:
"I hope I didn't shoot in your direction, young man; did I?"
"No--no, sir," replied the youthful inventor, who had hardlyrecovered his composure. "I heard your gun, and I imagined--"
"Did you think you had been shot? You must have a very vividimagination, for I fired in the air."
"No, I didn't exactly think that," replied Tom, "but I just had anencounter with an ugly tramp, and I feared he might be using me fora target."
"Is that so. I hadn't noticed any tramps around here, and I've beenin these woods nearly all day. Did he harm you?"
"No, not me, but my motor-cycle," and the lad explained.
"Pshaw! That's too bad!" exclaimed the hunter. "I wish I couldsupply you with a bit of wire, but I haven't any. I'm just walkingabout, trying my new gun."
"I shouldn't think you'd find anything to shoot this time of year,"remarked Tom.
"I don't expect to," answered the hunter, who had introduced himselfas Theodore Duncan. "But I have just purchased a new gun, and Iwanted to try it. I expect to do considerable hunting this fall, andso I'm getting ready for it."
"Do you live near here?"
"Well, about ten miles away, on the other side of Lake Carlopa, butI am fond of long walks in the woods. If you ever get to Waterford Iwish you'd come and see me, Mr. Swift. I have heard of your father."
"I will, Mr. Duncan; but if I don't get something to repair mymachine with I'm not likely to get anywhere right away."
"Well, I wish I could help you, but I haven't the least ingenuitywhen it comes to machinery. Now if I could help you track down thattramp--"
"Oh, no, thank you, I'd rather not have anything more to do withhim."
"If I caught sight of him now," resumed the hunter, "I fancy I couldmake him halt, and, perhaps, give you back the wire. I'm a prettygood shot, even if this is a new gun. I've been practicing atimprovised targets all day."
"No; the less I have to do with him, the better I shall like it,"answered Tom, "though I'm much obliged to you. I'll manage somehowuntil I get to Pompville."
He started off again, the hunter disappearing in the woods, whencethe sound of his gun was again heard.
"He's a queer chap," murmured Tom, "but I like him. Perhaps I maysee him when I go to Waterford, if I ever do."
Tom was destined to see the hunter again, at no distant time, andunder strange circumstances. But now the lad's whole attention wastaken up with the difficulty in which he found himself. Vainlymusing on what object the tramp could have had in breaking off thewire, the young inventor trudged on.
"I guess he was one of the gang after dad's invention," thought Tom,"and he must have wanted to hinder me from getting to Albany, thoughwhy I can't imagine." With a dubious shake of his head Tomproceeded. It was hard work pushing the heavy machine through thesand, and he was puffing before he had gone very far.
"I certainly am up against it," he murmured. "But if I can get a bitof wire in Pompville I'll be all right. If I can't--"
Just then Tom saw something which caused him to utter an exclamationof delight.
"That's the very thing!" he cried. "Why didn't I think of itbefore?"
Leaving his motor-cycle standing against a tree Tom hurried to afence that separated the road from a field. The fence was a barbed-wireone, and in a moment Tom had found a broken strand.
"Guess no one will care if I take a piece of this," he reasoned. "Itwill answer until I can get more. I'll have it in place in a jiffy!"
It did not take long to get his pliers from his toolbag and snip offa piece of the wire. Untwisting it he took out the sharp barbs, andthen was ready to attach it to the binding posts of the battery boxand the spark plug.
"Hold on, though!" he exclaimed as he paused in the work. "It's gotto be insulated, or it will vibrate against the metal of the machineand short circuit. I have it! My handkerchief! I s'pose Mrs. Baggertwill kick at tearing up a good one, but I can't help it."
Tom took a spare handkerchief from the bundle in which he had a fewbelongings carried with the idea of spending the night at an Albanyhotel, and he was soon wrapping strips of linen around the wire,tying them with pieces of string.
"There!" he exclaimed at length. "That's insulated good enough, Iguess. Now to fasten it on and start."
The young inventor, who was quick with tools, soon had theimprovised wire in place. He tested the spark and found that it wasalmost as good as when the regular copper conductor was in place.Then, having taken a spare bit of the barbed-wire along in case ofanother emergency, he jumped on the motor-cycle, pedaled it untilsufficient speed was attained, and turned on the power.
"That's the stuff!" he cried as the welcome explosions sounded. "Iguess I've fooled Happy Harry! I'll get to Albany pretty nearly ontime, anyhow. But that tramp surely had me worried for a while."
He rode into Pompville, and on inquiring in a plumbing shop managedto get a bit of copper wire th
at answered better than did thegalvanized piece from the fence. The readjustment was quickly made,and he was on his way again. As it was getting close to noon hestopped near a little spring outside of Pompville and ate asandwich, washing it down with the cold water. Then he started forCentreford.
As he was coming into the city he heard an automobile behind him. Hesteered to one side of the road to give the big car plenty of roomto pass, but it did not come on as speedily as he thought it would.He looked back and saw that it was going to stop near him.Accordingly he shut off the power of his machine.
"Is this the road to Centreford?" asked one of the travelers in theauto.
"Straight ahead," answered the lad.
At the sound of his voice one of the men in the big touring carleaned forward and whispered something to one on the front seat. Thesecond man nodded, and looked closely at Tom. The youth, in turn,stared at the men. He could not distinguish their faces, as they hadon auto goggles.
"How many miles is it?" asked the man who had whispered, and at thesound of his voice Tom felt a vague sense that he had heard itbefore.
"Three," answered the young inventor, and once more he saw the menwhisper among themselves.
"Thanks," spoke the driver of the car, and he threw in the gears. Asthe big machine darted ahead the goggles which one of the men woreslipped off. Tom had a glimpse of his face.
"Anson Morse!" he exclaimed. "If that isn't the man who was sneakingaround dad's motor shop he's his twin brother! I wonder if thosearen't the men who are after the patent model? I must be on myguard!" and Tom, watching the car fade out of sight on the roadahead of him, slowly started his motor-cycle. He was much puzzledand alarmed.
Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle; Or, Fun and Adventures on the Road Page 12
