to happen."

"Let me take a look," proposed the lad, and he was soon busy peering
into the interior of the machine. At first he could not find the
trouble, but being a persistent youth, Tom went at it systematically
and located it in two places. The clutch was not rightly adjusted and
the carburetor float feed needed fixing. The young inventor was not
long in making the slight repairs and then he assured Mr. Damon that
his automobile would run properly.

"Bless my very existence, but what a thing it is to have a head for
mechanics!" exclaimed the odd man gratefully. "Now it would bother me
to adjust a nutmeg grater if it got out of order, but I dare say you
could fix it in no time."

"Yes," answered Tom, "I could and so could you, for there's nothing
about it to fix. But you can go ahead now if you wish."

"Thank you. It just shows how ignorant I am of machinery. I presume
something will go wrong in another mile or two. But may I ask what you
are doing here? I presume you are in your motor-boat, sailing about
for pleasure. And didn't I understand you to say you were after those
chaps again? Bless my watch charm, but I was so interested in my
machine that I didn't think to ask you."

"Yes, I am after those thieves again."

"In your motor-boat, I presume. Well, I hope you catch them. What
have they stolen now?"

"My motor-boat. That's why I'm after them, but I had to borrow a craft
to chase them with."

"Bless my soul! You don't tell me! How did it happen?"

Thereupon the lad related as much of the story as was necessary to put
Mr. Damon in possession of the facts and he ended up with:

"I don't suppose you have seen anything of the men in my boat, have
you?"

Mr. Damon seemed strangely excited. He had entered his auto, but as
the lad's story progressed the odd gentleman had descended. When Tom
finished he exclaimed:

"Don't say a word now--not a word. I want to think, and that is a
process, which, for me, requires a little time. Don't speak a word
now. Bless my left hand, but I think I can help you!"

He frowned, stamped first one foot, then the other, looked up at the
sky, as if seeking inspiration there, and then down at the ground, as
if that would help him to think. Then he clapped his hands smartly
together and cried out:

"Bless my shoe buttons!"

"Have you seen them?" asked Tom eagerly.

"Was your boat one with a red arrow painted on the bow?" asked Mr.
Damon in turn.