In the morning Tom and his chum, full of enthusiasm for the pleasures before them, started off, promising to come back to the hotel in a few days to see how Mr. Swift felt.  The trip had already done the man good and his face wore a brighter look.

Tom and Ned, in the speedy arrow, cruised along the lakeshores all that morning.  At noon they, went ashore, made a temporary camp and arranged to spend the night there in the tent.  After this was erected they got out their fishing tackle and passed the afternoon at that sport, having such good luck that they provided their own supper without having to depend on canned stuff.

They lived this life for three days, making a new camp each night, being favored with good weather, so that they did not have to sleep in the boat to keep dry.  On the afternoon of the third day Tom, with a critical glance at the sky, remarked: 

“I shouldn’t be surprised if it rained to-morrow, Ned.”

“Me either.  It does look sort of hazy, and the wind is in a bad quarter.”

“Then what do you say to heading for the hotel?  I fancy dad will be glad to see us.”  “That suits me.  We can start camp life again after the storm passes.”

They started for Sandport that afternoon.  When within about two miles of the hotel dock Tom saw, just ahead of them, a small motor-boat.  Ned observed it too and called out: 

“S’pose that’s Andy looking for another race?”

“No, the boat’s too small for his.  We’ll put over that way and see who it is.”

The other craft did not appear to be moving very rapidly and the arrow was soon overhauling it.  As the two chums came nearer they could hear the puffing of the motor.  Tom listened with critical ears.

“That machine isn’t working right,” he remarked to his chum.

At that moment there sounded a loud explosion from the other boat and at the same time there came over the water a shrill cry of alarm.  “That’s a girl in that boat!” exclaimed Ned.  “Maybe she’s hurt.”

“No, the motor only backfired,” observed Tom.  “But we’ll go over and see if we can help her.  Perhaps she doesn’t understand it.  Girls don’t know much about machinery.”

A little later the arrow shot up alongside the other craft, which had come to a stop.  The two lads could see a girl bending over the motor, twirling the flywheel and trying to get it started.  “Can I help you?” asked Tom, shutting off the power from his craft.

The young lady glanced up.  Her face was red and she seemed ill at ease.  At the sight of the young inventor she uttered an exclamation of relief.

“Why, Mr. Swift!” she cried.  “Oh, I’m in such trouble.  I can’t make the machine work, and I’m afraid it’s broken; it exploded.”

“Miss Nestor!” blurted out Tom, more surprised evidently to see his acquaintance of the runaway again than she was at beholding him.  “I didn’t know you ran a motor-boat,” he added.  “I don’t,” said she simply and helplessly.  “That’s the trouble, it won’t run.”