“The machine doesn’t run as smooth as it ought to,” commented Mr. Hastings. “No, it needs a thorough overhauling,” agreed the owner of the Arrow. “I’ll get at it tomorrow,” and with that he swung out into the lake, towing his rowboat after him.
“A motor-boat of my own!” exulted Tom as he twirled the steering wheel and noted how readily the craft answered her helm. “This is great!”
He steered down the lake and then, turning around, went up it a mile or more before heading for his own dock, as he wanted to see how the engine behaved.
“With some changes and adjustments I can make this a speedy boat,” thought Tom. “I’ll get right at it. I shouldn’t wonder if I could make a good showing against Mr. Hastings’ new Carlopa, though his boat’s got four cylinders and mine has but two.”
The lad was proceeding leisurely along the lakeshore, near his home, with the motor throttled down to test it at low speed, when he heard some one shout. Looking toward the bank, Tom saw a man waving his hands.
“I wonder what he wants?” thought our hero as he put the wheel over to send his craft to shore. He heard a moment later, for the man on the bank cried:
“I say, my young friend, do you know anything about automobiles? Of course you do or you wouldn’t be running a motor-boat. Bless my very existence, but I’m in trouble! My machine has stopped on a lonely road and I can’t seem to get it started. I happened to hear your boat and I came here to hail you. Bless my coat-pockets but I am in trouble! Can you help me? Bless my soul and gizzard!”
“Mr. Damon” exclaimed Tom, shutting off the power, for he was now near shore. “Of course I’ll help you, Mr. Damon,” for the young inventor had recognized the eccentric man of whom he had purchased the motor-cycle and who had helped him in rounding up the thieves.
“Why, bless my shoe-laces, if it isn’t Tom Swift!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, who seemed very fond of calling down blessings upon himself or upon articles of his dress or person.
“Yes, I’m here,” admitted Tom with a laugh.
“And in a motor-boat, too! Bless my pocketbook, but did that run away with some one who sold it to you cheap?”
“No, not exactly,” and the lad explained how he had come into possession of it. By this time he was ashore and had tied the Arrow to an overhanging tree. Then Tom proceeded to where Mr. Damon had left his stalled automobile. The eccentric man was wealthy and his physician had instructed him to ride about in the car for his health. Tom soon located the trouble. The carburetor had become clogged, and it was soon in working order again.
“Well, now that you have a boat, I don’t suppose you will be riding about the country so much,” commented Mr. Damon as he got into his car. “Bless my spark-plug! But if you ever get over to Waterfield, where I live, come and see me. It’s handy to get to by water.”
“I’ll come some day,” promised the lad.
“Bless my hat band, but I hope so,” went on the eccentric individual as he prepared to start his car.
Tom completed the remainder of the trip to his house without incident and his father came down to the dock to see the motor-boat. He agreed with his son that it was a bargain and that it could easily be put in fine shape.
The youth spent all the next day and part of the following working on the craft. He overhauled the ignition system, which was the jump-spark style, cleaned the magneto and adjusted the gasoline and compression taps so that they fitted better. Then he readjusted the rudder lines, tightening them on the steering wheel, and looked over the piping from the gasoline tank.
The tank was in the forward compartment, and, upon inspecting this, the lad concluded to change the plan by which the big galvanized iron box was held in place. He took out the old wooden braces and set them closer together, putting in a few new ones.
“The tank will not vibrate so when I’m going at full speed,” he explained to his father.
“Is that where the strange man was tampering with the lock the day of the auction?” asked Mr. Swift.
“Yes, but I don’t see what he could want in this compartment, do you dad?”
The inventor got into the boat and looked carefully into the rather dark space where the tank fitted. He went over every inch of it, and, pointing to one of the thick wooden blocks that supported the tank, asked:
“Did you bore that hole in there, Tom?”
“No, it was there before I touched the braces. But it isn’t a hole, or rather, someone bored it and stopped it up again. It doesn’t weaken the brace any.”
“No, I suppose not. I was just wondering weather that was one of the new blocks or an old one.”
“Oh, an old one. I’m going to paint them, too, so in case the water leaks in or the gasoline leaks out the wood won’t be affected. A gasoline tank should vibrate as little as possible, if you don’t want it to leak. I guess I’ll paint the whole interior of this compartment white, then I can see away into the far corners of it.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” commented Mr. Swift.
It was four days after his purchase of the boat before Tom was ready to make a long trip in it. Up to that time he had gone on short spins not far from the dock, in order to test the engine adjustment. The lad found it was working very well, but he decided with a new kind of spark plugs for the two cylinders that he could get more speed out of it. Finally the forward compartment was painted and a general overhauling given the hull and Tom was ready to put, his boat to a good test.
“Come on, Ned,” he said to his chum early one evening after Mr. Swift had said he was too tired to go out on a trial run. “We’ll see what the Arrow will do now.”
From the time Tom started up the motor it was evident that the boat was going through the water at a rapid rate. For a mile or more the two lads speeded along, enjoying it hugely. Then Ned exclaimed:
“Something’s coming behind us.”
Tom turned his head and looked. Then he called out:
“It’s Mr. Hastings in his new Carlopa. I wonder if he wants a race?”
“Guess he’d have it all his own way,” suggested Ned.
“Oh, I don’t know. I can get a little more speed out of my boat.”
Tom waited until the former owner of the Arrow was up to him.
“Want a race?” asked Mr. Hastings good-naturedly.
“Sure!” agreed Tom, and he shoved the timer ahead to produce quicker explosions.
The Arrow seemed to leap forward and for a moment was ahead of the Carlopa, but with a motion of his hand to the spark lever Mr. Hastings also increased his speed. For a moment the two boats were on even terms and then the larger and newer one forged ahead. Tom had expected it’, but he was a little disappointed.
“That’s doing first rate,” complimented Mr. Hastings as he passed them. “Better than I was ever able to make her do even when she was new, Tom.”
This made the present owner of the Arrow feel somewhat consoled. He and Ned ran on for a few miles, the Carlopa in the meanwhile disappearing from view around a bend. Then Tom and his chum turned around and made for the Swift dock.
“She certainly is a dandy!” declared Ned. “I wish I had one like it.”
“Oh, I intend that you shall have plenty of rides in this,” went on his friend. “When you get your vacation, you and dad and I are going on a tour,” and he explained his plan, which, it is needless to say, met with Ned’s hearty approval.
Just before going to bed, some hours later, Tom decided to go down to the dock to make sure he had shut off the gasoline cock leading from the tank of his boat to the motor. It was a calm, early summer night, with a new moon giving a little light, and the lad went down to the lake in his slippers. As he neared the boathouse he heard a noise.
“Water rat,” he murmured, “or maybe muskrats. I must set some traps.”
As Tom entered the boathouse he started back in alarm, for a bright light flashed up, almost in his eyes.
“Who’s here?” he cried, and at that moment someone sprang out o
f his motor-boat, scrambled into a rowing craft which the youth could dimly make out in front of the dock and began to pull away quickly.
“Hold on there!” cried the young inventor. “Who are you? What do you want? Come back here!”
The person in the coat returned no answer. With his heart doing beats over-time Tom lighted a lantern and made a hasty examination of the Arrow. It did not appear to have been harmed, but a glance showed that the door of the gasoline compartment had been unlocked and was open. Tom jumped down into his craft.
“Some one has been at that compartment again!” he murmured. “I wonder if it was the same man who acted so suspiciously at the auction? What can his object be, anyhow?”
The next moment he uttered an exclamation of startled surprise and picked up something from the bottom of the boat. It was a bunch of keys, with a tag attached, bearing the owner’s name.
“Andy Foger!” murmured Tom. “So this is, how he was trying to get even! Maybe he started to put a hole in the tank or in my boat.”
CHAPTER VI
TOWING SOME GIRLS
With a sense of anger mingled with an apprehension lest some harm should have been done to his craft, the owner of the Arrow went carefully over it. He could find nothing wrong. The engine was all right and all that appeared to have been accomplished by the unbidden visitor was the opening of the locked forward compartment. That this had been done by one of the many keys on Andy Foger’s ring was evident.
“Now what could have been his object?” mused Tom. “I should think if he wanted to put a hole in the boat he would have done it amidships, where the water would have a better chance to come in, or perhaps he wanted to flood it with gasoline and—”
The idea of fire was in Tom’s mind, and he did not finish his half-completed thought.
“That may have been it,” he resumed after a hasty examination of the gasoline tank, to make sure there were no leaks in it. “To get even with me for outbidding him on the boat, Andy may have wanted to destroy the Arrow. Well, of all the mean tricks, that’s about the limit! But wait until I see him. I’ve got evidence against him,” and Tom looked at the key ring. “I could almost have him arrested for this.”
Going outside the boathouse, Tom stood on the edge of the dock and peered into the darkness. He could hear the faint sound of someone rowing across the lake, but there was no light.
“He had one of those electric flash lanterns,” decided Tom. “If I hadn’t found his keys, I might have thought it was Happy Harry instead of Andy.”
The young inventor went back into the house after carefully locking the boat compartment and detaching from the engine an electrical device, without which the motor in the Arrow could not be started.
“That will prevent them from running away with my boat, anyhow,” decided Tom. “And I’ll tell Garret Jackson to keep a sharp watch tonight.” Jackson was the engineer at Mr. Swift’s workshop.
Tom told his father of the happening and Mr. Swift was properly indignant. He wanted to go at once to see Mr. Foger and complain of Andy’s act, but Tom counseled waiting.
“I’ll attend to Andy myself,” said the young inventor. “He’s getting desperate, I guess, or he wouldn’t try to set the place on fire. But wait until I show him these keys.”
Bright and early the next morning the owner of the motor-boat was down to the dock inspecting it. The engineer, who had been on watch part of the night, reported that there had been no disturbance, and Tom found everything all right. “I wonder if I’d better go over and accuse Andy now or wait until I see him and spring this evidence on him?” thought our hero. Then he decided it would be better to wait. He took the Arrow out after breakfast, his father going on a short spin with him.
“But I must go back now and work on my gyroscope invention,” said Mr. Swift when about two hours had been spent on the lake. “I am making good progress with it.”
“You need a vacation,” decided Tom, “I’ll be ready to take you and Ned in about two weeks. He will have two weeks off then and, we’ll have some glorious times together.”
That afternoon Tom put some new style spark plugs in the cylinders of his motor and found that he had considerably increased the revolutions of the engine, due to a better explosion being obtained. He also made some minor adjustments and the next day he went out alone for a long run.
Heading up the lake, Tom was soon in sight of a popular excursion resort that was frequently visited by church and Sunday-school organizations in the vicinity of Shopton. The lad saw a number of rowing craft and a small motor-boat circling around opposite the resort and remarked: “There must be a picnic at the grove today. Guess I’ll run up and take a look.”
The lad was soon in the midst of quite a flotilla of rowboats, most of them manned by pretty girls or in charge of boys who were giving sisters (their own or some other chap’s) a trip on the water. Tom throttled his boat down to slow speed and looked with pleasure on the pretty scene. His boat attracted considerable attention, for motor craft were not numerous on Lake Carlopa.
As our hero passed a boat, containing three very pretty young ladies, Tom heard one of them exclaim:
“There he is now! That’s Tom Swift.”
Something in the tones of the voice attracted his attention. He turned and saw a brown-eyed girl smiling at him. She bowed and asked, blushing the while:
“Well, have you caught any more runaway horses lately?”
“Runaway horses—why—what? Oh, it’s Miss Nestor!” exclaimed the lad, recognizing the young lady whose steed he had frightened one day when he was on his bicycle. As told in the first volume of this series, the horse had run away, being alarmed at the flashing of Tom’s wheel, and Miss Mary Nestor, of Mansburg, was in grave danger.
“So you’ve given up the bicycle for the motor-boat,” went on the young lady.
“Yes,” replied Tom with a smile, shutting off the power, “and I haven’t had a chance to save any girls since I’ve had it.”
The two boats had drifted close together, and Miss Nestor introduced her two companions to Tom.
“Don’t you want to come in and take a ride?” he asked.
“Is it safe?” asked Jennie Haddon, one of the trio.
“Of course it is, Jennie, or he wouldn’t be out in it,” said Miss Nestor hastily. “Come on, let’s get in. I’m just dying for a motor-boat ride.”
“What will we do with our boat?” asked Katie Carson.
“Oh, I can tow that,” replied the youth. “Get right in and I’ll take you all around the lake.”
“Not too far,” stipulated the girl who had figured in the runaway. “We must be back for lunch, which will be served in about an hour. Our church and Sunday-school are having a picnic.”
“Maybe Mr. Swift will come and have some lunch with us,” suggested Miss Carson, blushing prettily.
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” answered Tom, and then he laughed at his formal reply, the girls joining in.
“We’d be glad to have you,” added Miss Haddon. “Oh!” she suddenly screamed, “the boat’s tipping over!”
“Oh, no,” Tom hastened to assure her, coming, to the side to help her in. “It just tilts a bit, with the weight of so many on one side. It couldn’t capsize if it tried.”
In another moment the three were in the roomy cockpit and Tom had made the empty rowboat fast to the stern. He was about to start up when from another boat, containing two little girls and two slightly larger boys, came a plaintive cry:
“Oh, mister, give us a ride!”
“Sure!” agreed Tom pleasantly. “Just fasten your boat to the other rowboat and I’ll tow you.”
One of the boys did this, and then, with three pretty girls as his companions in the Arrow and towing the two boats, Tom started off.
The girls were very much interested in the craft and asked all sorts of questions about how the engine operated. Tom explained as clearly as he could how the gasoline exploded in the cylinders, about the e
lectric spark and about the propeller. Then, when he had finished, Miss Haddon remarked naively:
“Oh, Mr. Swift, you’ve explained it beautifully, and I’m sure if our teacher in school made things as clear as you have that I could get along fine. I understand all about it, except I don’t see what makes the engine go.”
“Oh,” said Tom faintly, and he wondering what would be the best remark to make under the circumstances, when Miss Nestor created a diversion by looking at her watch and exclaiming:
“Oh, girls, it’s lunch time! We must go ashore. Will you kindly put about, Mr. Swift—I hope that is the proper term—and—land us—is that right?” and she looked archly at Tom.
“That’s perfectly right,” he admitted with a laugh and a glance into the girl’s brown eyes. “I’ll put you ashore at once,” and he headed for a small dock.
“And come yourself to take lunch with us, added Miss Haddon.
“I’m afraid I might be in the way,” stammered Tom. “I—I have a pretty good appetite, and—”
“I suppose you think that girls on a picnic don’t take much lunch,” finished Miss Nestor. “But I assure you that we have plenty, and that you will be very welcome,” she added warmly.
“Yes, and I’d like to have him explain over again how the engine works,” went on Miss Haddon. “I am so interested.”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 16