Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle | Page 6

was hungry and ordered a good meal. He was about half way
through it when some one called his name.
"Hello, Ned!" he answered, looking up to see a youth about his own
age. "Where did you blow in from?"
"Oh, I came over from Shopton this morning," replied Ned Newton,
taking a seat at the table with Tom. The two lads were chums, and in
their younger days had often gone fishing, swimming and hunting
together. Now Ned worked in the Shopton bank, and Tom was so busy
helping his father, so they did not see each other so often.
"On business or pleasure?" asked Tom, putting some more sugar in his
coffee.
"Business. I had to bring some papers over from our bank to the First
National here. But what about you?"
"Oh, I came on dad's account."
"Invented anything new?" asked Ned as he gave his order to the
waitress.
"No, nothing since the egg-beater I was telling you about. But I'm
working on some things."

"Why don't you invent an automobile or an airship?"
"Maybe I will some day, but, speaking of autos, did you see the one
Andy Foger has?"
"Yes; it's a beaut! Have you seen it?"
"Altogether at too close range. He nearly ran over me this morning,"
and the young inventor related the occurrence.
"Oh, Andy always was too fresh," commented Ned; "and since his
father let him get the touring car I suppose he'll be worse than ever."
"Well, if he tries to run me down again he'll get into trouble," declared
Tom, calling for a second cup of coffee.
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. "But if the
invention is as valuable as--"
"Hush!" came a caution from another of the party. "This is too public a
place to discuss the matter. Wait until we get out. One of us will have
to see Swift, of course, and if he proves stubborn--"
"I guess you'd better hush yourself," retorted the man who had first
spoken, and then the voices subsided.
But Tom Swift had overheard something which made him vaguely
afraid. He started so at the sound of his father's name that he knocked a
fork from the table.

"What's the matter; getting nervous?" asked Ned with a laugh.
"I guess so," replied Tom, and when he stooped to pick the fork up, not
waiting for the girl who was serving at his table, he stole a look at the
strangers who had just entered. He was startled to note that one of the
men was the same he had seen in the post-office--the man who
answered the description of the one who had been inquiring of Mr.
Merton about the Swift shops.
"I'm going to keep my ears open," thought Tom as he went on eating
his dinner.

CHAPTER III.
IN A SMASH-UP
Though the young inventor listened intently, in an endeavor to hear the
conversation of the men at the table behind him, all he could catch was
an indistinct murmur. The strangers appeared to have heeded the
caution of one of their number and were speaking in low tones.
Tom and Ned finished their meal, and started to leave the restaurant. As
Mr. Swift's son passed the table where the men sat they looked up
quickly at him. Two of them gave Tom but a passing glance, but
one--he whom the young inventor had noticed in the post-
office--stared long and intently.
"I think he will know me the next time he sees me," thought Tom, and
he boldly returned the glance of the stranger.
The bolts were ready when the inventor's son called at the machine
shop a second time, and making a package of them Tom fastened it to
the saddle of his bicycle. He started for home at a fast pace, and was
just turning from a cross road into the main highway when he saw
ahead of him a woman driving a light wagon. As the sun flashed on
Tom's shining wheel the horse gave a sudden leap, swerved to one side,

and then bolted down the dusty stretch, the woman screaming at the top
of her voice.
"A runaway!" cried Tom; "and partly my fault, too!"
Waiting not an instant the lad bent over his handle-bars and pedaled
with all his force. His bicycle seemed fairly to leap forward after the
galloping horse.
"Sit still! Don't jump out! Don't jump!" yelled the young inventor. "I'll