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Updated: May 18, 2025
I want to know you next time I see you." "Thanks, I'm not much to know, but I have an idea you are. My name's Howard Letchworth. I have a room over the garage, and take my meals at the pie-shop. My motor-cycle is all the family I have at present." Allison laughed, and held out his hand with a warm grip of admiration.
All this couldn't be real. Nothing had ever happened to him before except his goddess. Ben put on speed and the car flew out of the village and along the highroad. They entered another village, but halted not. Through it they sped and again out into the open country. Pete felt dazed, but the man of the motor-cycle, Master had said, was the man of the aeroplane.
"Don't say anything about the seal proposition," Joe cautioned him, as he went out with Babson after the performance in the tank. "I don't want it known until I actually have the seal." "Oh, I'll keep quiet. But say, Joe, that act of yours, as it stands now, is a dandy! It sure is!" "Glad you like it. I'm going to make it better yet, I think." Joe enjoyed the trip on the motor-cycle.
This idea caused him some alarm. He tried to peer through the dust-cloud, but could not. Nearer and nearer it came. Tom kept on, taking care to get as far to the side of the road as he could. Then from the midst of the enveloping mass came the sound of a steady "chug-chug." "It's a motor-cycle!" exclaimed Tom.
The long, low car seemed to stretch out over the road like a lean horse in a speed that ate up the miles and more than one motor-cycle policeman gazed appraisingly after them, but they drove steadily ahead and drew up at length before the sagging gate. Darkness had come and the little house looked bleak and deserted.
Just before they made the attempt, however, Tom became possessed of a motor-cycle. It had belonged to a wealthy man, Mr. Wakefield Damon, of Waterford, near Lake Carlopa, which body of water adjoined the town of Shopton; but Mr. Damon had two accidents with the machine, and sold it to Tom cheap.
After many adventures on his motor-cycle, Tom Swift went through some surprising happenings with a motor-boat be bought. After that he built an airship, the RED CLOUD, and later he and his father constructed a submarine, in which they went under the ocean in search of sunken treasure, enduring many perils and much danger.
And there's old Bikram Shamsher Jang scorching up and down the pig-paths of Khatmandu on a motor-cycle. Wouldn't that maharajah you? And the Shah of Persia, that ought to have been Muley-on-the-spot for at least three, he's got the palanquin habit. And that funny-hat prince from Korea wouldn't you think he could afford to amble around on a milk-white palfrey once in a dynasty or two?
In the first place, nobody, absolutely nobody, knew that my husband was going to stay at home all day, because, on the contrary, it was his habit to go out on his motor-cycle every Sunday afternoon." "And the second objection?"
Swift slowly, for the idea was a new one to him, "I suppose that part would be all right. But you have not had much experience riding a motor-cycle. Besides, you don't know the roads." "I can inquire. Will you let me go, dad?" Mr. Swift appeared to hesitate. "It will be fine!" went on Tom. "I would enjoy the trip, and there's another thing.
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