“I feel the same way myself,” commented the lad, “especially since this is the second time that’s happened. But we’ll have to wait, I guess.”
A little later the start back was made, Mr. Damon steering the Arrow skillfully enough so that it did not drag on the leading boat, in which Tom rode. His course took him not far from the lake sanitarium, where Mr. Duncan, the hunter, had been brought, and desiring to know how the wounded man was getting on, the youth proposed that they make a halt, explaining to Mr. Damon his reason.
“Yes, and while you’re about it you’d better telephone your father that you will join him tomorrow,” suggested the other. “I know what it is to fret and worry. You can fix your boat up in time to go to Sandport tomorrow, can’t you?”
“Yes, I’m glad you reminded me of it. I’ll telephone from the sanitarium, if they’ll let me.”
Mr. Duncan was not at the institution, Tom was told, his injury having healed sufficiently to allow of his being removed to his home. The youth readily secured permission to use the telephone, and was soon in communication with Mr. Swift. While not telling him all the occurrences that had delayed him, Tom gave his father and Ned Newton enough information to explain his absence. Then the trip to Shopton was resumed in the two boats.
“What are you going to do about your automobile?” asked Tom as they neared the point where the machine had been left.
“Never mind about that,” replied Mr. Damon. “It will do it good to have a night’s vacation. I will go on to your house with you, and perhaps I can get a train back to my friend’s home, so that I can claim my car.”
“Won’t you stay all night with me?” invited the young inventor. “I’d be glad to have you.”
Mr. Damon agreed, and, Tom putting more speed on the Red Streak, was soon opposite his own dock. The Arrow was run in the boathouse and the owner hastily told Mrs. Baggert and the engineer what had occurred. Then he took Andy’s boat to Mr. Foger’s dock and warmly thanked the red-haired lad for the use of his craft.
“Did you find your boat?” asked Andy eagerly. “How did the Red Streak run?”
“I got my boat and yours runs fine,” explained Tom.
“Good! I’ll race you again some day,” declared Andy.
Mr. Damon enjoyed his visit at our hero’s house, for Mrs. Baggert cooked one of her best suppers for him. Tom and the engineer spent the evening repairing the motor-boat, Mr. Damon looking on and exclaiming “Bless my shoe leather” or some other part of his dress or anatomy at every stage of the work. The engineer wanted to know all about the men and their doings, but he could supply no reason for their queer actions regarding the braces under the gasoline tank.
In the morning Tom once more prepared for an early start for Sandport, and Mr. Damon, reconsidering his plans, rode as far with him as the place where the automobile had been left. There he took leave of the young inventor, promising to call on Mr. Swift in the near future.
“I hope you arrive at the hotel where your father is without any more accidents,” remarked the automobilist. “Bless my very existence, but you seem to have the most remarkable series of adventures I ever heard of!”
“They are rather odd,” admitted Tom. “I don’t know that I particularly care for them, either. But, now that I have my boat back, I guess everything will be all right.”
But Tom could not look ahead. He was destined to have still more exciting times, as presently will be related.
Without further incident he arrived at the Lakeview Hotel in Sandport that evening and found his father and Ned very glad to see him. Of course he had to explain everything then, and, with his son safely in his sight, Mr. Swift was not so nervous over the recital as he would have been had Tom not been present.
“Now for some nice, quiet trips,” remarked the lad when he had finished his account. “I feel as if I had cheated you out of part of your vacation, Ned, staying away as long as I did.”
“Well, of course we missed you,” answered his chum. “But your father and I had a good time.”
“Yes, and I invented a new attachment for a kitchen boiler,” added Mr. Swift. “I had a chance for it when I passed through the hotel kitchen one day, for I wanted to see what kind of a range they used.”
“I guess there’s no stopping you from inventing,” replied his son with a laugh and a hopeless shake of the head. “But don’t let it happen again when you go away to rest.”
“Oh, I only just thought of it,” said Mr. Swift. “I haven’t worked the details out yet.”
Then he wanted to know about everything at home and he seemed particularly anxious lest the Happy Harry gang do some damage.
“I don’t believe they will,” Tom assured him. “Garret and Mrs. Baggert will be on guard.”
The next few days were pleasant ones for Tom, his father and Ned Newton. They cruised about the lake, went fishing and camped in the woods. Even Mr. Swift spent one night in the tent and said he liked it very much. For a week the three led an ideal existence, going about as they pleased, Ned taking a number of photographs with his new camera. The Arrow proved herself a fine boat, and Tom and Ned, when Mr. Swift did not accompany them, explored the seldom visited parts of Lake Carlopa.
The three had been out one day and were discussing the necessity of returning home soon when Ned spoke.
“I shall hate to give up this life and go to slaving in the bank again,” he complained. “I wish I was an inventor.”
“Oh, we inventors don’t have such an easy time,” said Mr. Swift. “You never know when trouble is coming,” and he little imagined how near the truth he was.
A little later they were at the hotel dock. When Tom had tied up his boat the three walked up the path to the broad veranda that faced the lake. A boy in uniform met them.
“Some one has just called you on the telephone, Mr. Swift,” he reported.
“Some one wants me? Who is it?”
“I think he said his name is Jackson, sir, Garret Jackson, and he says the message is very important.”
“Tom, something has happened at home!” exclaimed the inventor as he hurried up the steps. “I’m afraid there’s bad news.”
Unable to still the fear in his heart, Tom followed his father.
CHAPTER XX
NEWS OF A ROBBERY
With a hand that trembled so he could scarcely hold the receiver of the telephone, Mr. Swift placed it to his ear.
“Hello! Hello!” he cried into the transmitter. “Yes, this is Mr. Swift—yes, Garret. What is it?”
Then came a series of clicks, which Tom and Ned listened to. The inventor spoke again.
“What’s that? The same men? Broke in early this evening? Oh, that’s too bad! Of course, I’ll come at once.”
There followed more meaningless clicks, which Tom wished he could translate. His father hung up the receiver, turned to him and exclaimed:
“I’ve been robbed again!”
“Robbed again! How, dad?”
“By that same rascally gang, Garret thinks. This evening, when he and Mrs. Baggert were in the house the burglar alarm went off. The indicator showed that the electrical shop had been entered, and the engineer hurried there. He saw a light inside and the shadows of persons on the windows. Before he could reach the shop, however, the thieves heard him coming and escaped. Oh, Tom, I should never have come away!”
“But did they take anything, dad? Perhaps Garret frightened them away before they had a chance to steal any of your things. Did you ask him that?”
“I didn’t need to. He said he made a hasty exanimation before he called me up, and he is sure a number of my electrical inventions are missing. Some of them are devices I never have had patented, and if I lose them I will have no recovery.”
“But just what ones are they? Perhaps we can send out a police alarm tonight.”
“Garret couldn’t tell that,” answered Mr. Swift as he paced to and fro in the hotel office. “He doesn’t know all the tools and machinery I had in t
here. But it is certain that some of my most valuable things have been taken.”
“Never mind. Don’t worry, dad,” and Tom tried to speak soothingly, for he saw that his father was much excited. “We may be able to get them back. How does Garret know the same men who stole the turbine model broke in the shop this evening?”
“He saw them. One was Happy Harry, he is positive. The others he did not know, but he recognized the tramp from our description of him.”
“Then we must tell the police at once.”
“Yes, Tom, I wish you would telephone. I’ll give you a description of the things. No, I can’t do that either, for I don’t know what was stolen. I must go home at once to find out. It’s a good thing the motor-boat is here. Come, let’s start at once. What is my bill here?” and the inventor turned to the hotel proprietor, who had come into the office. “I have suffered a severe loss and must leave at once.”
“I am very sorry, sir. I’ll have it ready for you in a few minutes.”
“All right. Tom, is your boat ready for a quick trip?”
“Yes, dad, but I don’t like to make it at night with three in. Of course it might be perfectly safe, but there’s a risk, and I don’t like to take it.”
“Don’t worry about the risk on my account, Tom. I’m not afraid. I must get home and see of what I have been robbed.”
The young inventor was in a quandary. He wanted to do as his father requested and to aid him all he could, yet he knew that an all-night trip in the boat down the lake would be dangerous, not only from the chance of running on an unknown shore or into a hidden rock, but because Mr. Swift was not physically fitted to stand the journey.
“Come, Tom,” exclaimed the aged inventor impatiently, “we must start at once!”
“Won’t morning do as well, dad?”
“No, I must start now. I could not sleep worrying over what has happened. We will start—”
At that instant there came a low, rumbling peal of thunder. Mr. Swift started and peered from a window. There came a flash of lightning and another vibrant report from the storm-charged clouds.
“There is your bill, Mr. Swift,” remarked the proprietor, coming up, “but I would not advise you to start tonight. There is a bad storm in the west, and it will reach here in a few minutes. Storms on Lake Carlopa, especially at this open and exposed end, are not to be despised, I assure you.”
“But I must get home!” insisted Tom’s father.
The lace curtain over the window blew almost straight out with a sudden breeze, and a flash of lightning so bright that it reflected even in the room where the incandescent electrics were glowing made several others jump. Then came a mighty crash, and with that the flood-gates of the storm were opened, and the rain came down in torrents. Tom actually breathed a sigh of relief. The problem was solved for him. It would be impossible to start tonight, and he was glad of it, much as he wanted to get on the trail of the thieves.
There was a scurrying on the part of the hotel attendants to close the windows, and the guests who had been enjoying the air out on the porches came running in. With a rush, a roar and a muttering, as peal after peal of thunder sounded, the deluge continued.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t start,” observed Ned.
“I should say so,” agreed Tom. “But we’ll get off the first thing in the morning, dad.”
Mr. Swift did not reply, but his nervous pacing to and fro in the hotel office showed how anxious he was to be at home again. There was no help for it, however, and, after a time, finding that to think of reaching his house that night was out of the question, the inventor calmed down somewhat,
The storm continued nearly all night, as Tom could bear witness, for he did not sleep well, nor did his father. And when he came down to breakfast in the morning Mr. Swift plainly showed the effects of the bad news. His face was haggard and drawn and his eyes smarted and burned from lack of sleep.
“Well, Tom, we must start early,” he said nervously. “I am glad it has cleared off. Is the boat all ready?”
“Yes, and it’s a good thing it was under shelter last night or we’d have to bail it out now, and that would delay us.”
An hour later they were under way, having telephoned to the engineer at the Swift home that they were coming. Garret Jackson reported over the wire that he had notified the Shopton police of the robbery, but that little could be done until the inventor arrived to give a description of the stolen articles.
“And that will do little good, I fear,” remarked Tom. “Those fellows have evidently been planning this for some time and will cover their tracks well. I’d like to catch them, not only to recover your things, dad, but to find out the mystery of my boat and why the man took the tank braces.”
CHAPTER XXI
THE BALLOON ON FIRE
Down Lake Carlopa speeded the Arrow, those on board watching the banks slip past as the motor-boat rapidly cut through the water.
“What time do you think we ought to reach home, Tom?” asked Mr. Swift.
“Oh, about four o’clock, if we don’t stop for lunch.”
“Then we’ll not stop,” decided the inventor. “We’ll eat what we have on board. I suppose you have some rations?” and he smiled, the first time since hearing the bad news.
“Oh, yes, Ned and I didn’t eat everything on our camping trips,” and Tom was glad to note that the fine weather which followed the storm was having a good effect on his father.
“We certainly had a good time,” remarked Ned. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a vacation so.”
“It’s too bad it had to be cut short by this robbery,” commented Mr. Swift.
“Oh, well, my time would be up in a few days more,” went on the young bank employee. “It’s just as well to start back now.”
Tom took the shortest route he knew, keeping in as close to shore as he dared, for now he was as anxious to get home as was his father. On and on speeded the Arrow, yet fast as it was, it seemed slow to Mr. Swift, who, like all nervous persons, always wanted to go wherever he desired to go instantly.
Tom headed his boat around a little point of land, and was urging the engine to the top notch of speed, for now he was on a clear course, with no danger from shoals or hidden rocks, when he saw, darting out from shore, a tiny craft which somehow seemed familiar to him. He recognized a peculiar put-putter of the motor.
“That’s the Dot,” he remarked in a low voice to Ned, “Miss Nestor’s cousin’s boat.”
“Is she in it now?” asked Ned.
“Yes,” answered Tom quickly.
“You’ve got good eyesight,” remarked Ned dryly, “to tell a girl at that distance. It looks to me like a boy.”
“No, it’s Mary—I mean Miss Nestor,” the youth quickly corrected himself, and a close observer would have noticed that he blushed a bit under his coat of tan.
Ned laughed, Tom blushed still more, and Mr. Swift, who was in a stern seat, glanced up quickly.
“It looks as if that boat wanted to hail us,” the inventor remarked.
Tom was thinking the same thing, for, though he had changed his course slightly since sighting the Dot, the little craft was put over so as to meet him. Wondering what Miss Nestor could want, but being only too willing to have a chat with her, the young inventor shifted his helm. In a short time the two craft were within hailing distance.
“How do you do?” called Miss Nestor, as she slowed down her motor. “Don’t you think I’m improving, Mr. Swift?”
“What’s that? I—er—I beg your pardon, but I didn’t catch that,” exclaimed the aged inventor quickly, coming out of a sort of day-dream. “I beg your pardon.” He thought she had addressed him.
Miss Nestor blushed and looked questioningly at Tom.
“My father,” he explained as he introduced his parent. Ned needed none, having met Miss Nestor before. “Indeed you have improved very much,” went on our hero. “You seem able to manage the boat all alone.”
“Yes, I’m doin
g pretty well. Dick lets me take the Dot whenever I want to, and I thought I’d come out for a little trial run this morning. I’m getting ready for the races. I suppose you are going to enter them?” and she steered her boat alongside Tom’s, who throttled down his powerful motor so as not to pass his friend.
“Races? I hadn’t heard of them,” he replied.
“Oh, indeed there are to be fine ones under the auspices of the Lanton Motor Club. Mr. Hastings, of whom you bought that boat, is going to enter his new Carlopa, and Dick has entered the Dot, in the baby class of course. But I’m going to run it, and that’s why I’m practicing.”
“I hope you win,” remarked Tom. “I hadn’t heard of the races, but I think I’ll enter. I’m glad you told me. Do you want to race now?” and he laughed as he looked into the brown eyes of Mary Nestor.
“No, indeed, unless you give me a start of several miles.”
They kept together for some little time longer, and then, as Tom knew his father would be restless at the slow speed, he told Miss Nestor the need of haste, and, advancing his timer, he soon left the Dot behind. The girl called a laughing good-by and urged him not to forget the races, which were to take place in about two weeks.
“I suppose Andy Foger will enter his boat,” commented Ned.
“Naturally,” agreed Tom. “It’s a racer, and he’ll probably think it can beat anything on the lake. But if he doesn’t manage his motor differently, it won’t.”
The distance from Sandport to Shopton had been more than half covered at noon, when the travelers ate a lunch in the boat. Mr. Swift was looking anxiously ahead to catch the first glimpse of his dock and Tom was adjusting the machinery as finely as he dared to get out of it the maximum speed.
Ned Newton, who happened to be gazing aloft, wondering at the perfect beauty of the blue sky after the storm, uttered a sudden exclamation. Then he arose and pointed at some object in the air.
“Look!” he cried, “A balloon! It must have gone up from some fair.”
Tom and his father looked upward. High in the air, almost over their heads, was an immense balloon. It was of the hot-air variety, such as performers use in which to make ascensions from fair grounds and circuses, and below it dangled a trapeze, upon which could be observed a man, only he looked more like a doll than a human being.
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