rode off, but his thoughts toward Andy Foger were not very pleasant
ones. Andy was the son of a wealthy man of the town, and his good
fortune in the matter of money seemed to have spoiled him, for he
was a bully and a coward. Several times he and Tom Swift had
clashed, for Andy was overbearing. But this was the first time Andy
had shown such a vindictive spirit.

"He thinks he can run over everything since he got his new auto,"
commented Tom aloud as he rode on. "He'll have a smash-up some day,
if he isn't careful. He's too fond of speeding. I wonder where he
and his crowd are going?"

Musing over his narrow escape Tom rode on, and was soon at his home,
where he lived with his widowed father, Barton Swift, a wealthy
inventor, and the latter's housekeeper, Mrs. Baggert. Approaching a
machine shop, one of several built near his house by Mr. Swift, in
which he conducted experiments and constructed apparatus. Tom was
met by his parent.

"What's the matter, Tom?" asked Mr. Swift. "You look as if something
had happened."

"Something very nearly did," answered the youth, and related his
experience on the road.

"Humph," remarked the inventor; "your little pleasure-jaunt might
have ended disastrously. I suppose Andy and his chums are off on
their trip. I remember Mr. Foger speaking to me about it the other
day. He said Andy and some companions were going on a tour, to be
gone a week or more. Well, I'm glad it was no worse. But have you