"I'm afraid not," answered the agent. "You'd better get a hustle
on."

Tom sprinted off. It was getting dark rapidly, and when he was about
a mile from home he felt several warm drops on his face.

"Here it comes!" exclaimed the youth. "Now for a little more speed!"

Tom pressed harder on the pedals, too hard, in fact, for an instant
later something snapped, and the next he knew he was flying over the
handlebars of the bicycle. At the same time there was a metallic,
clinking sound.

"Chain's busted!" exclaimed the lad as he picked himself up out of
the dust. "Well, wouldn't that jar you!" and he walked back to
where, in the dusk, he could dimly discern his wheel.

The chain had come off the two sprockets and was lying to one side.
Tom picked it up and ascertained by close observation that the screw
and nut holding the two joining links together was lost.

"Nice pickle!" he murmured. "How am I going to find it in all this
dust and darkness?" he asked himself disgustedly. "I'll carry an
extra screw next time. No, I won't, either. I'll ride my motor-cycle
next time. Well, I may as well give a look around. I hate to walk,
if I can fix it and ride."

Tom had not spent more than two minutes looking about the dusty
road, with the aid of matches, for the screw, when the rain suddenly
began falling in a hard shower.