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 of
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.