Victor Appleton (house Name) (16 page)

A moment later, however, he heard some one approaching through the
woods behind him, and a voice called out:

"What are you doing? Get away from there!"

Rapid footsteps sounded, and Tom, in a panic, turned and fled, with
an unknown pursuer after him.

Tom rushed on through the woods. The lighted room into which he had
been looking had temporarily blinded him when it came to plunging
into the darkness again, and he could not see where he was going. He
crashed full-tilt into a tree, and was thrown backward. Bruised and
cut, he picked himself up and rushed off in another direction.
Fortunately he struck into some sort of a path, probably one made by
cows, and then, as his eyes recovered their faculties, he could
dimly distinguish the trees on either side of him and avoid them.

His heart, that was beating fiercely, calmed down after his first
fright, and when he had run on for several minutes he stopped.

"That—that must—have been—the—the man—from the boat," panted
our hero, whispering to himself. "He came back and saw me. I wonder
if he's after me yet?"

Tom listened. The only sound he could hear was the trill and chirp
of the insects of the woods. The pursuit, which had lasted only a
few minutes, was over. But it might be resumed at any moment. Tom
was not safe yet, he thought, and he kept on.

"I wonder where I am? I wonder where my motor-cycle is? I wonder
what I had better do?" he asked himself.

Three big questions, and no way of settling them; Tom pulled himself
up sharply.

"I've got to think this thing out," he resumed. "They can't find me
in these woods to-night, that's sure, unless they get dogs, and
they're not likely to do that. So I'm safe that far. But that's
about all that is in my favor. I won't dare to go back to the house,
even if I could find it in this blackness, which is doubtful. It
wouldn't be safe, for they'll be on guard now. It looks as though I
was up against it. I'm afraid they may imagine the police are after
them, and go away. If they do, and take the model and papers with
them, I'll have an awful job to locate them again, and probably I
won't be able to. That's the worst of it. Here I have everything
right under my hands, and I can't do a thing. If I only had some one
to help me; some one to leave on guard while I went for the police.
I'm one against three—no, four, for the man in the boat is back.
Let's see what can I do?"

Then a sudden plan came to him.

"The lake shore!" he exclaimed, half aloud. "I'll go down there and
keep watch. If they escape they'll probably go in the boat, for they
wouldn't venture through the woods at night. That's it. I'll watch
on shore, and if they do leave in the boat—" He paused again,
undecided. "Why, if they do," he finished, "I'll sing out, and make
such a row that they'll think the whole countryside is after them.
That may drive them back, or they may drop the box containing the
papers and model, and cut for it. If they do I'll be all right. I
don't care about capturing them, if I can get dad's model back."

He felt more like himself, now that he had mapped out another plan.

"The first thing to do is to locate the lake," reasoned Tom. "Let's
see; I ran in a straight line away from the house—that is, as
nearly straight as I could. Now if I turn around and go straight
back, bearing off a little to the left, I ought to come to the
water. I'll do it."

But it was not so easy as Tom imagined, and several times he found
himself in the midst of almost impenetrable bushes. He kept on,
however, and soon had the satisfaction of emerging from the woods
out on the shore of the lake. Then, having gotten his bearings as
well as he could in the darkness, he moved down until he was near
the deserted house. The light was still showing from the window, and
Tom judged by this that the men had not taken fright and fled.

"I suppose I could sneak down and set the motor-boat adrift," he
argued. "That would prevent them leaving by way of the lake, anyhow.
That's what I'll do! I'll cut off one means of escape. I'll set the
boat adrift!"

Very cautiously he advanced toward where he had seen the small craft
put out. He was on his guard, for he feared the men would be on the
watch, but he reached the dock in safety, and was loosening the rope
that tied the boat to the little wharf when another thought came to
him.

"Why set this boat adrift?" he reasoned. "It is too good a boat to
treat that way, and, besides, it will make a good place for me to
spend the rest of the night. I've got to stay around here until
morning, and then I'll see if I can't get help. I'll just
appropriate this boat for my own use. They have dad's model, and
I'll take their boat."

Softly he got into the craft, and with an oar which was kept in it
to propel it in case the engine gave out, he poled it along the
shore of the lake until he was some distance away from the dock.

That afternoon he had seen a secluded place along the shore, a spot
where overhanging bushes made a good hiding place, and for this he
headed the craft. A little later it was completely out of sight, and
Tom stretched out on the cushioned seats, pulling a tarpaulin over
him. There he prepared to spend the rest of the night.

"They can't get away except through the woods now, which I don't
believe they'll do," he thought, "and this is better for me than
staying out under a tree. I'm glad I thought of it."

The youth, naturally, did not pass a very comfortable night, though
his bed was not a half bad one. He fell into uneasy dozes, only to
arouse, thinking the men in the old mansion were trying to escape.
Then he would sit up and listen, but he could hear nothing. It
seemed as if morning would never come, but at length the stars began
to fade, and the sky seemed overcast with a filmy, white veil. Tom
sat up, rubbed his smarting eyes, and stretched his cramped limbs.

"Oh, for a hot cup of coffee!" he exclaimed. "But not for mine,
until I land these chaps where they belong. Now the question is, how
can I get help to capture them?"

His hunger was forgotten in this. He stepped from the boat to a
secluded spot on the shore. The craft, he noted, was well hidden.

"I've got to go back to where I left my motor-cycle, jump on that,
and ride for aid," he reasoned. "Maybe I can get the charcoal-burner
to go for me, while I come back and stand guard. I guess that would
be the best plan. I certainly ought to be on hand, for there is no
telling when these fellows will skip out with the model, if they
haven't gone already. I hate to leave, yet I've got to. It's the
only way. I wish I'd done as dad suggested, and brought help. But
it's too late for that. Well, I'm off."

Tom took a last look at the motor-boat, which was a fine one. He
wished it was his. Then he struck through the woods. He had his
bearings now, and was soon at the place where he had left his
machine. It had not been disturbed. He caught a glimpse of the old
mansion on his way out of the woods. There appeared to be no one
stirring about it.

"I hope my birds haven't flown!" he exclaimed, and the thought gave
him such uneasiness that he put it from him. Pushing his heavy
machine ahead of him until he came to a good road, he mounted it,
and was soon at the charcoal-burner's shack. There came no answer to
his knock, and Tom pushed open the door. The old man was not in. Tom
could not send him for help.

"My luck seems to be against me!" he murmured. "But I can get
something to eat here, anyhow. I'm almost starved!"

He found the kitchen utensils, and made some coffee, also frying
some bacon and eggs. Then, feeling much refreshed, and having left
on the table some money to pay for the inroad he had made on the
victuals, he started to go outside.

As our hero stepped to the door he was greeted by a savage growl
that made him start in alarm.

"A dog!" he mused. "I didn't know there was one around."

He looked outside and there, to his dismay, saw a big,
savage-appearing bulldog standing close to where he had left his
motor-cycle. The animal had been sniffing suspiciously at the machine.

"Good dog!" called Tom. "Come here!"

But the bulldog did not come. Instead the beast stood still, showed
his teeth to Tom and growled in a low tone.

"Wonder if the owner can be near?" mused the young inventor. "That
dog won't let me get my machine, I am afraid."

Tom spoke to the animal again and again the dog growled and showed
his teeth. He next made a move as if to leap into the house, and Tom
quickly stepped back and banged shut the door.

"Well, if this isn't the worst yet!" cried the youth to himself.
"Here, just at the time I want to be off, I must be held up by such
a brute as that outside. Wonder how long he'll keep me a prisoner?"

Tom went to a window and peered out. No person had appeared and the
lad rightly surmised that the bulldog had come to the cottage alone.
The beast appeared to be hungry, and this gave Tom a sudden idea.

"Maybe if I feed him, he'll forget that I am around and give me a
chance to get away," he reasoned. "Guess I had better try that dodge
on him."

Tom looked around the cottage and at last found the remains of a
chicken dinner the owner had left behind. He picked up some of the
bones and called the bulldog. The animal came up rather
suspiciously. Tom threw him one bone, which he proceeded to crunch
up vigorously.

"He's hungry right enough," mused Tom. "I guess he'd like to sample
my leg. But he's not going to do it—not if I can help it."

At the back of the cottage was a little shed, the door to which
stood open. Tom threw a bone near to the door of this shed and then
managed to throw another bone inside the place. The bulldog found
the first bone and then disappeared after the second.

"Now is my time, I guess," the young inventor told himself, and
watching his chance, he ran from the cottage toward his motor-cycle.
He made no noise and quickly shoved the machine into the roadway.
Just as he turned on the power the bulldog came out of the shed,
barking furiously.

"You've missed it!" said Tom grimly as the machine started, and
quickly the cottage and the bulldog were left behind. The road was
rough for a short distance and he had to pay strict attention to
what he was doing.

"I've got to ride to the nearest village," he said. "It's a long
distance, and, in the meanwhile, the men may escape. But I can't do
anything else. I dare not tackle them alone, and there is no telling
when the charcoal-burner may come back. I've got to make speed,
that's all."

Out on the main road the lad sent his machine ahead at a fast pace.
He was fairly humming along when, suddenly, from around a curve in
the highway he heard the "honk-honk" of an automobile horn. For an
instant his heart failed him.

"I wonder if those are the thieves? Maybe they have left the house,
and are in their auto!" he whispered as he slowed down his machine.

The automobile appeared to have halted. As Tom came nearer the turn
he heard voices. At the sound of one he started. The voice
exclaimed:

"Bless my spectacles! What's wrong now? I thought that when I got this
automobile I would enjoy life, but it's as bad as my motor-cycle was
for going wrong! Bless my very existence, but has anything happened?"

"Mr. Damon!" exclaimed Tom, for he recognized the eccentric
individual of whom he had obtained the motor-cycle.

The next moment Tom was in sight of a big touring car, containing,
not only Mr. Damon, whom Tom recognized at once, but three other
gentlemen.

"Oh, Mr. Damon," cried Tom, "will you help me capture a gang of
thieves? They are in a deserted mansion in the woods, and they have
one of my father's patent models! Will you help me, Mr. Damon?"

"Why, bless my top-knots," exclaimed the odd gentleman. "If it isn't
Tom Swift, the young inventor! Bless my very happiness! There's my
motor-cycle, too! Help you? Why, of course we will. Bless my
shoe-leather! Of course we'll help you!"

Tom's story was soon told, and Mr. Damon quickly explained to his
friends in the automobile how he had first made the acquaintance of
the young inventor.

"But how does it happen that you are trusting yourself in a car like
this?" asked Tom. "I thought you were done with gasolene machines,
Mr. Damon."

"I thought so, too, Tom, but, bless my batteries, my doctor insisted
that I must get out in the open air. I'm too stout to walk, and I
can't run. The only solution was in an automobile, for I never would
dream of a motor-cycle. I wonder that one of mine hasn't run away
with you and killed you. But there! My automobile is nearly as bad.
We went along very nicely yesterday, and now, just when I have a
party of friends out, something goes wrong. Bless my liver! I do
seem to have the worst luck!"

Tom lost no time in looking for the trouble. He found it in the
ignition, and soon had it fixed. Then a sort of council of war was
held.

"Do you think those scoundrels are there yet?" asked Mr. Damon.

"I hope so," answered Tom.

"So do I," went on the odd character. "Bless my soul, but I want a
chance to pummel them. Come, gentlemen, let's be moving. Will you
ride with us, Tom Swift, or on that dangerous motor-cycle?"

"I think I'll stick to my machine, Mr. Damon. I can easily keep up
with you."

"Very well. Then we'll get along. We'll proceed until we get close
to the old mansion, and then some of us will go down to the lake
shore, and the rest of us will surround the house. We'll catch the
villains red-handed, and I hope we bag that tramp among them."

"I hardly think he is there," said Tom.

In a short time the auto and the motor-cycle had carried the
respective riders to the road through the woods. There the machines
were left, and the party proceeded on foot. Tom had a revolver with
him, and one member of Mr. Damon's party also had a small one, more
to scare dogs than for any other purpose. Tom gave his weapon to one
of the men, and cut a stout stick for himself, an example followed
by those who had no firearms.