CHAPTER XII
SUSPICIOUS CHARACTERS
Under the skill of the physicians at the lake sanitarium Mr. Duncan'swound was quickly attended to and the bleeding, which Tom had partlychecked, was completely stopped. Some medicines having beenadministered, the hunter regained a little of his strength, and, aboutan hour after he had been brought to the resort, he was able to seeTom, who, at his request, was admitted to his room. The young inventorfound 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 nurseplaced a chair for the lad at the bedside. "If it had not been foryou, 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'llthank you more properly at another time. I hope I didn't delay you onyour trip."
"It's not of much consequence," responded the youth. "I was only goingto see that everything was all right at our house," and he explainedabout his father being at the hotel and mentioned his worriment. "Iwill 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 tryingto get back to Sandport."
"I'd like to send word to my wife about what has happened," said thehunter. "If it would not be too much out of your way, I'd appreciateit if you could stop at my home in Waterford and tell her, so she willnot be alarmed at my absence."
"I'll do it," replied our hero. "There is no special need of myhurrying. I have brought your gun and compass up from the boat. Theyare 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 areboth of excellent make, and I don't think I shall use that gun thisseason. My wife would be superstitious about it. As for the compass,you'll need one in this fog, and I can recommend mine as beingaccurate."
"Oh, I couldn't think of taking them," expostulated Tom, but his eyessparkled 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 huntersaid, "and the nurse here will tell you that sick persons ought to behumored. Hadn't they?" and he appealed to the pretty young woman, whowas smiling at Tom.
"That's perfectly true," she said, showing her white, even teeth. "Ithink, 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 explainmatters to my wife, if you will, and tell her the doctor says I can beout in about a week. But I'm not going hunting or practicing shotsagain."
A little later Tom, with the compass before him to guide him on hiscourse through the fog, was speeding his boat toward Waterford. Nowand then he glanced at the fine shotgun which he had so unexpectedlyacquired.
"This will come in handy this fall!" he exclaimed. "I'll go huntingquail and partridge as well as wild ducks. This compass is just what Ineed, too."
Mrs. Duncan was at first very much alarmed when Tom started to tell herof the accident, but she soon calmed down as the lad went more intodetails and stated how comparatively out of danger her husband now was.The hunter's wife insisted that Tom remain to dinner, and as he hadmade up his mind he would have to devote two days instead of one to thetrip 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 wasskimming over the lake like a shaft from a bow.
"This is something like," he exclaimed. "I'll soon be at home, findeverything all right and telephone to dad. Then I'll sleep in my ownroom and start back in the morning."
When Tom was within a few miles of his own boathouse he heard behindhim the "put-put" of a motor craft. Turning, he saw the RED STREAKfairly 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 andengine is that he can't always depend on it. I guess he doesn'tunderstand 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 tooffer Tom a race. The RED STREAK went on down the lake, passing theARROW about half a mile away. Then the young inventor saw that Andyhad two other lads in the boat with him.
"Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey, I guess," he murmured. "Well, they'rea trio pretty much alike. The farther off they are the better I likeit."
Tom once more gave his attention to his own boat. He was going at afair speed, but not the limit, and he counted on reaching home in abouta half hour. Suddenly, when he was just congratulating himself on thesmooth-running qualities of his motor, which had not missed anexplosion, 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 thereare so many things that may happen to a gasoline engine that it wouldbe difficult to name them all offhand, and Tom, who had not had verymuch 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 ofthe cylinder, when the proper connection was, made, that he had a hot,"fat one." The compression seemed all right and the supply pipe fromthe gasoline tank was in perfect order. Still the motor would not go.No explosion resulted when he turned the flywheel over, not even whenhe primed the cylinder by putting a little gasoline in through thecocks on the cylinder heads.
"That's funny," he remarked to himself as he rested from his labors andcontemplated the "dead" motor. "First time it has gone back on me."The boat was drifting down the lake, and, at the sound of another motorcraft approaching, Tom looked up. He saw the RED STREAK, containingAndy Foger and his cronies. They had observed the young inventor'splight.
"Want a tow?" sneered Andy.
"What'll you take for your second-hand boat that won't run?" asked PeteBailey.
"Better get out of the way or you might be run down," added SamSnedecker.
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 inprotest, 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 itbefore?"
It was the work of but a minute to unscrew the spark plugs from thetops of the cylinders. He found that both had such accumulations ofcarbon on them that no spark could ever have reached the mixture ofgasoline and air.
"I'll put new ones in," he decided, for he carried a few spare plugsfor 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 himthis time."
But the RED STREAK was not in sight, and, a little later, Tom had runthe ARROW into the boathouse, locked the door and was on his way up tothe mansion.
"I suppose Mrs. Baggert and Garret will be surprised to see me," heremarked. "Maybe they'll think we don't trust them, by coming back inthis fashion to see that everything is safe. But then, I suppose, dadis naturally nervous about some of his valuable machinery andinventions. 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 ashort cut to the house, he saw in the dusk, for it was now earlyevening, a movement in the bushes that lined the walk.
"Hello, Garret!" exclaimed the lad, taking it for granted it was theengineer employed by Mr. Swift.
There was no reply, and Tom, with a sudden suspicion, sprang toward thebushes. The
shrubbery was more violently agitated and, as the ladreached the screen of foliage, he saw a man spring up from the groundand 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 mansprung. It was light enough so that the lad could see his face, and aglimpse of it caused him to cry out:
"Happy Harry, the tramp!"
Before he could call again the two men had disappeared.
Tom Swift and His Motor-Boat; Or, The Rivals of Lake Carlopa Page 12
