I'm a pretty
good shot, even if this is a new gun. I've been practicing at
improvised targets all day."
"No; the less I have to do with him, the better I shall like it,"
answered Tom, "though I'm much obliged to you. I'll manage somehow
until I get to Pompville."
He started off again, the hunter disappearing in the woods, whence
the sound of his gun was again heard.
"He's a queer chap," murmured Tom, "but I like him. Perhaps I may
see him when I go to Waterford, if I ever do."
Tom was destined to see the hunter again, at no distant time, and
under strange circumstances. But now the lad's whole attention was
taken up with the difficulty in which he found himself. Vainly
musing on what object the tramp could have had in breaking off the
wire, the young inventor trudged on.
"I guess he was one of the gang after dad's invention," thought Tom,
"and he must have wanted to hinder me from getting to Albany, though
why I can't imagine." With a dubious shake of his head Tom
proceeded. It was hard work pushing the heavy machine through the
sand, and he was puffing before he had gone very, far.
"I certainly am up against it," he murmured. "But if I can get a bit
of wire in Pompville I'll be all right. If I can't--"
Just then Tom saw something which caused him to utter an exclamation
of delight.
Pages:
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99