"But it's idle to speculate on it," commented the inventor. "Andy
might have induced some of his chums to act for him in harming
your boat, and the key advertisement might have been only a ruse."
"I hardly think so," answered his son, shaking his head. "It
strikes me as being very curious, and I'm going to see if I can't
get at the bottom of it."
But a week or more passed and Tom had no clew. In the meanwhile
he was working away at his motor-boat, installing several
improvements.
One of these was a better pump, which circulated the water around
the cylinders, and another was a new system of lubrication under
forced feed.
"This ought to give me a little more speed," reasoned Tom, who was
not yet satisfied with his craft. "Guess I'll take it out for a
spin."
He was alone in the ARROW, taking a long course up the lake when,
as he passed a wooded point that concealed from view a sort of
bay, he heard the puffing of another motor-boat.
"Maybe that's Mr. Hastings," thought Tom. "If I raced with him
now, I think the ARROW could give a better account of herself."
The young inventor looked at the boat as it came into view. It
needed but a glance to show that it was not the CARLOPA. Then, as
it came nearer, Tom saw a familiar figure in it--a red-haired,
squint-eyed chap.
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