won't get into trouble. Are you able to drive home; or shall I take
you in my car?"

"I wouldn't ride in your car!" snapped the ugly lad. "You go on, and
mind your business now, and I'll pay you back for this, some day. I
could have you arrested!"

"And so could I have you locked up for obstructing traffic. But I'll
not. Your rig isn't damaged, and you'd better drive home."

The old white horse had not moved, and was evidently glad of the
rest. A glance satisfied Tom that the carriage had not been damaged,
and, getting into his car, while Andy was brushing the dust from his
clothes, our hero started the motor.

There was now room enough to pass around the obstructing carriage,
and soon Tom was humming down the road, leaving a much discomfited
bully behind him.

"Tom Swift is too smart--thinking he can run everybody, and
everything, to suit himself," growled Andy, as he finished dusting
off his clothes, and wiping the blood from his face. As Tom had
said, the wound was but a scratch, though the bully's head ached,
and he felt a little dizzy. "I wish I'd hit him with the horsewhip,"
he went on, vindictively. "I'll get square with him some day."

Andy had said this many times, but he had never yet succeeded in
permanently getting the best of Tom. Pondering on some scheme of
revenge the rich lad--for Mr. Foger, his father, was quite wealthy--
drove on.