just as Mr. Swift and Mrs. Baggert were sitting down to the table.

"To Reedville and back," announced Tom proudly.

"What, a round trip of thirty miles!" exclaimed Mr. Swift.

"That's what!" declared his son. "I went like a greased pig most of
the way. I had to slow up going through Mansburg, but the rest of at
time I let it out for all it was worth."

"You must be careful," cautioned his father. "You are not an expert
yet."

"No, I realize that. Several times, when I wanted to slow up, I
began to back-pedal, forgetting that I wasn't on my bicycle. Then I
thought to shut off the power and put on the brake. But it's
glorious fun. I'm going out again as soon as I have something to
eat. That is, unless you want me to help you, dad."

"No, not this morning. Learn to ride the motor-cycle. It may come in
handy."

Neither Tom nor his father realized what an important part the
machine was soon to play in their lives.

Tom went out for another spin after breakfast, and in a different
direction. He wanted to see what the machine would do on a hill, and
there was a long, steep one about five miles from home. The roads
were in fine shape after the rain, and he speeded up the incline at
a rapid rate.