'round me, an' Ah'll
make him t'ink he's de inside ob a chicken coop, dat's what Ah will."

Perhaps Andy heard of this, and kept away. In the meanwhile Tom kept on
perfecting his car and battery. From the club secretary he learned that
a number of inventors were working on electric cars, and there promised
to be many of the speedy vehicles in the race.

After considerable labor Tom had succeeded in getting together one set
of the batteries. He had them completed one afternoon, and wanted to
give them a test that night. But, when he went to his father's chemical
laboratory for a certain powder, which he needed to use in the battery
solution, he found there was none.

"I'll have to ride in to Mansburg for some," he decided. "I'll go after
supper, on my motor-cycle, and test the battery to-night."

The young inventor left his house immediately after the evening meal.
Along the road toward Mansburg he speeded, and, as he came to the foot
of a hill, where once Andy Foger had put a big tree, hoping Tom would
run into it and be injured, the youth recalled that circumstance.

"Andy has been keeping out of my way lately," mused Tom. "I wonder if
he's up to any mischief? I don't like the way Sam Snedecker is hanging
around the shop, either. It looks as if they were plotting something.
But I guess Eradicate and his pail of whitewash will scare them off."

Tom got the powdered chemical he wanted in the drug store, and, after
refreshing himself with some ice cream soda, he started back. As he
rode along through the streets of the town he kept a lookout, and those
of you who know how fond the lad was of a certain young lady, do not
need to be told for whom he was looking. But he did not see her, and
soon turned into the main highway leading to Shopton.

It was dark when he reached the hill, where once he had been so near an
accident, and he slowed up as he coasted down it, using the brake at
intervals.

Tom got safely to the bottom of the declivity, and was about to turn on
the power of his machine, when, from the bushes that lined either side
of the roadway, several figures sprang suddenly. They ranged themselves
across the road, and one cried: "Halt!" in tones that were meant to be
stern, but which seemed to Tom, to tremble somewhat. The young inventor
was so surprised that he did not open the gasolene throttle, nor switch
on his spark. As a consequence his motor-cycle lost momentum, and he
had to take one foot from the pe