Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle; Or, Fun and Adventures on the Road

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER XVII.

  MR. SWIFT IN DESPAIR

  Tom was thinking of many things as his speedy machine carried himmile after mile nearer home. By noon he was over half way on hisjourney, and he stopped in a small village for his dinner.

  "I think I'll make inquiries of the police here, to see if theycaught sight of those men," decided Tom as he left the restaurant."Though I am inclined to believe they kept on to Albany, or somelarge city, where they have their headquarters. They will want tomake use of dad's model as soon as possible, though what they willdo with it I don't know." He tried to telephone to his father, butcould get no connection, as the wire was being repaired.

  The police force of the place where Tom had stopped for lunch waslike the town itself--small and not of much consequence. The chiefconstable, for he was not what one could call a chief of police, hadheard of the matter from the alarm sent out in all directions fromDunkirk, where Mr. Blackford lived.

  "You don't mean to tell me you're the young man who was chloroformedand robbed!" exclaimed the constable, looking at Tom as if hedoubted his word.

  "I'm the young man," declared our hero. "Have you seen anything ofthe thieves?"

  "Not a thing, though I've instructed all my men to keep a sharplookout for a red automobile, with three scoundrels in it. My menare to make an arrest on sight."

  "How many men have you?"

  "Two," was the rather surprising answer; "but one has to work on afarm daytimes, so I ain't really got but one in what you might callactive service."

  Tom restrained a desire to laugh. At any rate, the aged constablemeant well.

  "One of my men seen a red automobile, a little while before you comein my office," went on the official, "but it wasn't the one wanted,'cause a young woman was running it all alone. It struck me asrather curious that a woman would trust herself all alone in one ofthem things; wouldn't it you?"

  "Oh, no, women and young ladies often operate them," said Tom.

  "I should think you'd find one handier than the two-wheeledapparatus you have out there," went on the constable, indicating themotor-cycle, which Tom had stood up against a tree.

  "I may have one some day," replied the young inventor. "But I guessI'll be moving on now. Here's my address, in case you hear anythingof those men, but I don't imagine you will."

  "Me either. Fellows as slick as them are won't come back this wayand run the chance of being arrested by my men. I have two on dutynights," he went on proudly, "besides myself, so you see we'repretty well protected."

  Tom thanked him for the trouble he had taken, and was soon on hisway again. He swept on along the quiet country roads anxious for thetime when he could consult with his father over what would be thebest course to take.

  When Tom was about a mile away from his house he saw in the roadahead of him a rickety old wagon, and a second glance at it told himthe outfit belonged to Eradicate Sampson, for the animal drawing thevehicle was none other than the mule, Boomerang.

  "But what in the world is Rad up to?" mused Tom, for the colored manwas out of the wagon and was going up and down in the grass at theside of the highway in a curious fashion. "I guess he's lostsomething," decided Tom.

  When he got nearer he saw what Eradicate was doing. The colored manwas pushing a lawn-mower slowly to and fro in the tall, rank grassthat grew beside the thoroughfare, and at the sound of Tom'smotor-cycle the negro looked up. There was such a woe-begoneexpression on his face that Tom at once stopped his machine and gotoff.

  "What's the matter, Rad?" Tom asked.

  "Mattah, Mistah Swift? Why, dere's a pow'ful lot de mattah, an'dat's de truff. I'se been swindled, dat's what I has."

  "Swindled? How?"

  "Well, it's dis-a-way. Yo' see dis yeah lawn-moah?"

  "Yes; it doesn't seem to work," and Tom glanced critically at it. AsEradicate pushed it slowly to and fro, the blades did not revolve,and the wheels slipped along on the grass.

  "No, sah, it doan't work, an' dat's how I've been swindled, MistahSwift. Yo' see, I done traded mah ole grindstone off for dis yeahlawn-moah, an' I got stuck."

  "What, that old grindstone that was broken in two, and that youfastened together with concrete?" asked Tom, for he had seen theoutfit with which Eradicate, in spare times between cleaning andwhitewashing, had gone about the country, sharpening knives andscissors. "You don't mean that old, broken one?"

  "Dat's what I mean, Mistah Swift. Why, it was all right. I mended itso dat de break wouldn't show, an' it would sharpen things if yo'run it slow. But dis yeah lawn-moah won't wuk slow ner fast."

  "I guess it was an even exchange, then," went on Tom. "You didn'tget bitten any worse than the other fellow did."

  "Yo' doan't s'pose yo' kin fix dis yeah moah so's I kin use it, doesyo', Mistah Swift?" asked Eradicate, not bothering to go into theethics of the matter. "I reckon now with summah comin' on I kin makemo' with a lawn-moah than I kin with a grindstone--dat is, ef I kingit it to wuk. I jest got it a while ago an' decided to try it, butit won't cut no grass."

  "I haven't much time," said Tom, "for I'm anxious to get home, butI'll take a look at it."

  Tom leaned his motor-cycle against the fence. He could no more passa bit of broken machinery, which he thought he could mend, than somemen and boys can pass by a baseball game without stopping to watchit, no matter how pressed they are for time. It was Tom's hobby, andhe delighted in nothing so much as tinkering with machines, fromlawn-mowers to steam engines.

  Tom took hold of the handle, which Eradicate gladly relinquished tohim, and his trained touch told him at once what was the trouble.

  "Some one has had the wheels off and put them on wrong, Rad," hesaid. "The ratchet and pawl are reversed. This mower would workbackwards, if that were possible."

  "Am dat so, Mistah Swift?"

  "That's it. All I have to do is to take off the wheels and reversethe pawl."

  "I--I didn't know mah lawn-moah was named Paul," said the coloredman. "Is it writ on it anywhere?"

  "No, it's not the kind of Paul you mean," said Tom with a laugh."It's spelled differently. A pawl is a sort of catch that fits intoa ratchet wheel and pushes it around, or it may be used as a catchto prevent the backward motion of a windlass or the wheel on aderrick. I'll have it fixed in a jiffy for you."

  Tom worked rapidly. With a monkey-wrench he removed the two bigwheels of the lawn-mower and reversed the pawl in the cogs. In fiveminutes he had replaced the wheels, and the machine, except forneeded sharpening, did good work.

  "There you are, Rad!" exclaimed Tom at length.

  "Yo' suah am a wonder at inventin'!" cried the colored mangratefully. "I'll cut yo' grass all summah fo' yo' to pay fo' this,Mistah Swift."

  "Oh, that's too much. I didn't do a great deal, Rad."

  "Well, yo' saved me from bein' swindled, Mistah Swift, an' I suahdoes 'preciate dat."

  "How about the fellow you traded the cracked grindstone to, Rad?"

  "Oh, well, ef he done run it slow it won't fly apart, an' he'll dodat, anyhow, fo' he suah am a lazy coon. I guess we am about eventhere, Mistah Swift."

  "All right," spoke Tom with a laugh. "Sharpen it up, Rad, and startin to cut grass. It will soon be summer," and Tom, leaping upon hismotor-cycle, was off like a shot.

  He found his father in his library, reading a book on scientificmatters. Mr. Swift looked up in surprise at seeing his son.

  "What! Back so soon?" he asked. "You did make a flying trip. Did yougive the model and papers to Mr. Crawford?"

  "No, dad, I was robbed yesterday. Those scoundrels got ahead of us,after all. They have your model. I tried to telephone to you, butthe wires were down, or something."

  "What!" cried Mr. Swift. "Oh, Tom! That's too bad! I will lose tenthousand dollars if I can't get that model and those papers back!"and with a despairing gesture Mr. Swift rose and began to pace thefloor.