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I'll pull out of your road in a jiffy, an' if we do go down in th' ditch, why we can throw off part of th' load, lighten th' wagon, an' pull out again. You've got t' hustle if ye git t' Shopton by three o'clock." "I can do it with a clear road," declared Tom, confidently. "Then ye'll have th' clear road," Mr. Lyon assured him. "Come boys, let's git th' hay t' one side."
The wireless outfit of the Humming-Bird was a marvel of compactness. Thus the days passed, with Tom very busy; so busy, in fact, that he hardly had time to call on Miss Nestor. As for Andy Foger, he heard no more from him, and the bully was not seen around Shopton. Tom concluded that he was at his uncle's place, working on his racing craft.
The youth had no sooner come in sight of the old Shopton bank, to distinguish it from the Second National, which Mr. Foger had started, than he was aware that something unusual had occurred. There was quite a crowd about it, and more persons were constantly arriving to swell the throng.
But I wonder what object anyone could have in spoiling my gun?" "So as to make his own cannon stand in a better light." "Still thinking of General Waller, are you?" "I am, Tom." There was nothing more to be done at present, and, as it would take several days for the big mass of metal to properly cool, Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon returned to Shopton. There Tom busied himself over many things.
Period came to Shopton, and declared it was his belief that his rivals, Turbot and Eckert, had had a hand in the matter. But it was only a suspicion, though Tom himself believed the same thing. Still nothing could be accomplished. "The thing to do, now that the camera works all right, is for you to hit the trail for India at once," suggested the picture man. "They won't follow you there.
We shall need a few more aluminum bolts, though, and if you don't mind you might jump on your motor-cycle and run to Mansburg for them. Merton's machine shop ought to have some." Mansburg was the nearest large city to Shopton, and Merton was a machinist who frequently did work for Mr. Swift. "All right," agreed Tom. "I'll start now. How many will you need?" "Oh, a couple of dozen."
But he was quite sure that this man was no person to contend with under present conditions. He strode away along the sidewalk toward the far corner of the wall that surrounded this estate. Shopton had not many of such important dwellings as this behind the wall. Its residential section was made up for the most part of mechanics' homes and such plain but substantial houses as his father's.
The two chums began conversing on more congenial topics, and Ned was telling of a new camera he had, when, from a table directly behind him, Tom heard some one say in rather loud tones: "The plant is located in Shopton, all right, and the buildings are near Swift's house." Tom started, and listened more intently. "That will make it more difficult," one man answered.
They stopped at one of the gates of the works, and Tom instructed Koku to bring out and put into the car certain boxes and tools that he wished to take with him. Then he drove on, taking the road to Waterfield. This way led through farmlands and patches of woods, a rough country in part. A mile out of the limits of Shopton the road edged a deep valley, the sidehill sparsely wooded.
Sandy and Phyl followed close behind. Like all cars belonging to the Swifts' key personnel, Bud's was equipped with a two-way shortwave radio. Tom switched it on and radioed Shopton Police Headquarters. Chief Slater promised to send a squad car at once. Minutes later, they heard it approaching. Two husky police officers leaped out as the car braked to a halt, and took charge of the prisoners.
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