would be armed. There were a number
of machine guns to be installed, quick-firers of various types, and in
addition the tank could carry a number of riflemen.

It was upon the crushing power of the tank, though, that most reliance
was placed. Thus it could lead the way for an infantry advance through
the enemy's lines, making nothing of barbed wire that would take an
artillery fire of several days to cut to pieces.

"And now, Ned," said Tom, about a week after the night test of the
tank, "I'm going to try what she'll do in bridging a gap."

"Have you got her in shape again?"

"Yes, everything is all right. I've taken out the weak part in the
steering gear that nearly caused us to run you down, and we're safe in
that respect now. And I've got the grippers made. It only remains to
see whether they're strong enough to bear the weight of my little
baby," and Tom affectionately patted the steel sides of Tank A.

While his men were getting the machine ready for a test out on the
road, and for a journey across a small stream not far away, Tom told
his chum about conceiving the idea for the tank and carrying it out
secretly with the aid of his father and certain workmen.

"That's the reason the government exempted me from enlisting," Tom
said. "They wanted me to finish this tank. I didn't exactly want to,
but I considered it my 'bit.' After this I'm going into the army, Ned."

"Glad to hear it, old man. Maybe by that time I'll have this Liberty
Bond work finished, and I'll go with you. We'll have great times
together! Have you heard anything more of Simpson, Blakeson and
Scoundrels?" And Ned laughed as he named this "firm."

"No," answered Tom. "I guess we scared off that slick German spy."

Once more the tank lumbered out along the road. It was a mighty engine
of war, and inside her rode Tom and Ned. Mary and her father had been
invited, but the girl could not quite get her courage to the point of
accepting, nor did Mr. Nestor care to go. Mr. Damon, however, as might
be guessed, was there.

"Bless my monkey wrench, Tom!" cried the eccentric man, as he noted
their advance over some rough ground, "are you really going to make
this machine cross Tinkle Creek on a bridge of steel you carry with
you?"

"I'm going to try, Mr. Damon."

A little later, after a successful test up and down a small gully, Tank
A arrived at the edge of Tinkle Creek, a small stream about twenty feet
wide, not far from Tom's home. At the poin