As he was about to swing around it and coast swiftly down the steep declivity he was startled by hearing a voice calling to him from the bushes at the side of the road.

“Hold on, dar I Hold on, Mistah Swift!” cried a colored man, suddenly popping into view.  “Doan’t go down dat hill.”

“Why, it’s Eradicate Sampson!” exclaimed Tom, quickly shutting off the power and applying the brakes.  “What’s the matter, Rad?  Why shouldn’t I go down that hill?”

“Beca’se, Mistah Swift, dere’s a pow’ful monstrous tree trunk right across de road at a place whar yo’ cain’t see it till yo’ gits right on top ob it.  Ef yo’ done hit dat ar tree on yo’ lickity-split machine, yo’ suah would land in kingdom come.  Doan’t go down dat hill!”

Tom leaped off his machine and approached the colored man.  Eradicate Sampson did odd jobs in the neighborhood of Shopton, and more than once Tom had done him favors in repairing his lawn mower or his wood-sawing machine.  In turn Eradicate had given Tom a valuable clue as to the hiding place of the model thieves.

“How’d the log get across the road, Rad?” asked Tom.

“I dunno, Mistah Swift.  I see it when I come along wid mah mule, Boomerang, an’ I tried t’ git it outer de way, but I couldn’t.  Den I left Boomerang an’ mah wagon at de foot ob de hill an’ I come up heah t’ git a long pole t’ pry de log outer de way.  I didn’t t’ink nobody would come along, case dis road ain’t much trabeled.”

“I took it for a short cut,” said the lad.  “Come on, let’s take a look at the log.”

Leaving his machine at the top of the slope, the young inventor accompanied the colored man ’down the hill.  At the foot of it, well hidden from sight of any one who might come riding down, was a big log.  It was all the way across the road.

“That never fell there,” exclaimed Tom in some excitement.  “That never rolled off a load of logs, even if there had been one along, which there wasn’t.  That log was put there!”

“Does yo’ t’ink dat, Mistah Swift?” asked Eradicate, his eyes getting big.

“I certainly do, and, if you hadn’t warned me, I might have been killed.”

“Oh, I heard yo’ lickity-split machine chug-chuggin’ along when I were in de bushes, lookin’ for a pryin’ pole, an’ I hurried out to warn yo.  I knowed I could leave Boomerang safe, ’case he’s asleep.”

“I’m glad you did warn me,” went on the youth solemnly.  Then, as he went closer to the log, he uttered an exclamation.

“That has been dragged here by an automobile!” he cried.  “It’s been done on purpose to injure some one.  Come on, Rad, let’s see if we can’t find out who did it.”

Something on the ground caught Tom’s eye.  He stooped and picked up a nickle-plated wrench.

“This may come in handy as evidence,” he murmured.

CHAPTER IV

TOM AND ANDY CLASH