Victor Appleton (house Name) (11 page)

"Albany? You're a good way from Albany," replied the farmer. "You're
in the village of Dunkirk."

"How far is that from Centreford?"

"About seventy miles."

"As far as that?" cried Tom. "They must have carried me a good way
in their automobile."

"Was you in that automobile?" demanded the farmer.

"Which one?" asked Tom quickly.

"The one that stopped down the road just before supper. I see it,
but I didn't pay no attention to it. If I'd 'a' knowed you fell out,
though, I'd 'a' come to help you."

"I didn't fall out, Mr.—er—" Tom paused.

"Blackford is my name; Amos Blackford."

"Well, Mr. Blackford, I didn't fall out. I was drugged and brought
here."

"Drugged! Salt mackerel! But there's been a crime committed, then.
Jed, hurry up with that lantern an' git your deputy sheriff's badge
on. There's been druggin' an' all sorts of crimes committed. I've
caught one of the victims. Hurry up! My son's a deputy sheriff," he
added, by way of an explanation.

"Then I hope he can help me catch the scoundrels who robbed me,"
said Tom.

"Robbed you, did they? Hurry up, Jed. There's been a robbery! We'll
rouse the neighborhood an' search for the villains. Hurry up, Jed!"

"I'd rather find my motor-cycle, and a valuable model which was on
it, than locate those men," went on Tom. "They also took some papers
from me."

Then he told how he had started for Albany, adding his theory of how
he had been attacked and carried away in the auto. The latter part
of it was borne out by the testimony of Mr. Blackford.

"What I know about it," said the farmer, when his son Jed had
arrived on the scene with a lantern and his badge, "is that jest
about supper time I saw an automobile stop down the road a bit, It
was gittin' dusk, an' I saw some men git out. I didn't pay no
attention to them, 'cause I was busy about the milkin'. The next I
knowed I seen some one strikin' matches in my wagon shed, an' I come
out to see what it was."

"The men must have brought me all the way from the church shed near
Centreford to here," declared Tom. "Then they lifted me out and put
me in your shed. Maybe they left my motor-cycle also."

"I didn't see nothin' like that," said the farmer. "Is that what you
call one of them two-wheeled lickity-split things that a man sits on
the middle of an' goes like chain-lightning?"

"It is," said Tom. "I wish you'd help me look for it."

The farmer and his son agreed, and other lanterns having been
secured, a search was made. After about half an hour the motor-cycle
was discovered in some bushes at the side of the road, near where
the automobile had stopped. But the model was missing from it, and a
careful search near where the machine had been hidden did not reveal
it. Nor did as careful a hunt as they could make in the darkness
disclose any dues to the scoundrels who had drugged and robbed Tom.

"We've got to organize a regular searchin' party," declared Jed
Blackford, after he and his father, together with Tom and the
farmer's hired man, had searched up and down the road by the light
of lanterns. "We'll organize a posse an' have a regular hunt. This
is the worst crime that's been committed in this deestrict in many
years, an' I'm goin' to run the scoundrels to earth."

"Don't be talkin' nonsense, Jed," interrupted his father. "You won't
catch them fellers in a hundred years. They're miles an' miles away
from here by this time in their automobile. All you can do is to
notify the sheriff. I guess we'd better give this young man some
attention. Let's see, you said your name was Quick, didn't you?"

"No, but it's very similar," answered Tom with a smile. "It's
Swift."

"I knowed it was something had to do with speed," went on Mr.
Blackford. "Wa'al, now, s'pose you come in the house an' have a hot
cup of tea. You look sort of draggled out."

Tom was glad enough to avail himself of the kind invitation, and he
was soon in the comfortable kitchen, relating his story, with more
detail, to the farmer and his family. Mrs. Blackford applied some
home-made remedies to the lump on the youth's head, and it felt much
better.

"I'd like to take a look at my motor-cycle," he said, after his
second cup of tea. "I want to see if those men damaged it any. If
they have I'm going to have trouble getting back home to tell my
father of my bad luck. Poor dad! He will be very much worried when I
tell him the model and his patent papers have been stolen."

"It's too bad!" exclaimed Mrs. Blackford. "I wish I had hold of them
scoundrels!" and her usually gentle face bore a severe frown. "Of
course you can have your thing-a-ma-bob in to see if it's hurt, but
please don't start it in here. They make a terrible racket."

"No, I'll look it over in the woodshed," promised Tom. "If it's all
right I think I'll start back home at once."

"No, you can't do that," declared Mr. Blackford. "You're in no
condition to travel. You might fall off an' git hurt. It's nearly ten
o'clock now. You jest stay here all night, an' in the mornin', if you
feel all right, you can start off. I couldn't let you go to-night."

Indeed, Tom did not feel very much like undertaking the journey, for
the blow on his head had made him dazed, and the chloroform caused a
sick feeling. Mr. Blackford wheeled the motor-cycle into the
woodhouse, which opened from the kitchen, and there the youth went
over the machine. He was glad to find that it had sustained no
damage. In the meanwhile Jed had gone off to tell the startling news
to near-by farmers. Quite a throng, with lanterns, went up and down
the road, but all the evidence they could find were the marks of the
automobile wheels, which clues were not very satisfactory.

"But we'll catch them in the mornin'," declared the deputy sheriff.
"I'll know that automobile again if I see it. It was painted red."

"That's the color of a number of automobiles," said Tom with a
smile. "I'm afraid you'll have trouble identifying it by that means.
I am surprised, though, that they did not carry my motor-cycle away
with them. It is a valuable machine."

"They were afraid to," declared Jed. "It would look queer to see a
machine like that in an auto. Of course when they were going along
country roads in the evening it didn't much matter, but when they
headed for the city, as they probably did, they knew it would
attract suspicion to 'em. I know, for I've been a deputy sheriff
'most a year."

"I believe you're right," agreed Tom. "They didn't dare take the
motor-cycle with them, but they hid it, hoping I would not find it.
I'd rather have the model and the papers, though, than half a dozen
motor-cycles."

"Maybe the police will help you find them," said Mrs. Blackford.
"Jed, you must telephone to the police the first thing in the
morning. It's a shame the way criminals are allowed to go on. If
honest people did those things, they'd be arrested in a minute, but
it seems that scoundrels can do as they please."

"You wait; I'll catch 'em!" declared Jed confidently. "I'll organize
another posse in the mornin'."

"Well, I know one thing, and that is that the place for this young
man is in bed!" exclaimed motherly Mrs. Blackford, and she insisted
on Tom retiring. He was somewhat restless at first, and the thought
of the loss of the model and the papers preyed on his mind. Then,
utterly exhausted, he sank into a heavy slumber, and did not awaken
until the sun was shining in his window the next morning. A good
breakfast made him feel somewhat better, and he was more like the
resourceful Tom Swift of old when he went to get his motor-cycle in
shape for the ride back to Shopton.

"Well, I hope you find those criminals," said Mr. Blackford, as he
watched Tom oiling the machine. "If you're ever out this way again,
stop off and see us."

"Yes, do," urged Mrs. Blackford, who was getting ready to churn. Her
husband looked at the old-fashioned barrel and dasher arrangement,
which she was filling with cream.

"What's the matter with the new churn?" he asked in some surprise.

"It's broken," she replied. "It's always the way with those new-
fangled things. It works ever so much nicer than this old one,
though," she went on to Tom, "but it gets out of order easy."

"Let me look at it," suggested the young inventor. "I know something
about machinery."

The churn, which worked by a system of cogs and a handle, was
brought from the woodshed. Tom soon saw what the trouble was. One of
the cogs had become displaced. It did not take him five minutes,
with the tools he carried on his motor-cycle, to put it back, and
the churn was ready to use.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Blackford. "You are handy at such
things!"

"Oh, it's just a knack," replied Tom modestly. "Now I'll put a plug
in there, and the cog wheel won't come loose again. The
manufacturers of it ought to have done that. I imagine lots of
people have this same trouble with these churns."

"Indeed they do," asserted Mrs. Blackford. "Sallie Armstrong has
one, and it got out of order the first week they had it. I'll let
her look at mine, and maybe her husband can fix it."

"I'd go and do it myself, but I want to get home," said Tom, and
then he showed her how, by inserting a small iron plug in a certain
place, there would be no danger of the cog coming loose again.

"That's certainly slick!" exclaimed Mr. Blackford. "Well, I wish you
good luck, Mr. Swift, and if I see those scoundrels around this
neighborhood again I'll make 'em wish they'd let you alone."

"That's what," added Jed, polishing his badge with his big, red
handkerchief.

Mrs. Blackford transferred the cream to the new churn which Tom had
fixed, and as he rode off down the highway on his motor-cycle, she
waved one hand to him, while with the other she operated the handle
of the apparatus.

"Now for a quick run to Shopton to tell dad the bad news," spoke Tom
to himself as he turned on full speed and dashed away. "My trip has
been a failure so far."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How many men have you?"

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

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

"One of my men seen a red automobile, a little while before you come
in 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 as
rather curious that a woman would trust herself all alone in one of
them 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-wheeled
apparatus you have out there," went on the constable, indicating the
motor-cycle, which Tom had stood up against a tree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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."