“What do you mean by getting in the way like that?” demanded Andy with a scowl.  “Don’t you see that you nearly upset me?”

“Well, I like your nerve, Andy Foger!” cried Tom.  “What do you mean by nearly running me down?  Why didn’t you sound your horn?  You automobilists take too much for granted!  You were going faster than the legal rate, anyhow!”

“I was, eh?” sneered Andy.

“Yes, you were, and you know it.  I’m the one to make a kick, not you.  You came pretty near hitting me.  Me getting in your way!  I guess I’ve got some rights on the road!”

“Aw, go on!” growled Andy, for he could think of nothing else to say.  “Bicycles are a back number, anyhow.”

“It isn’t so very long ago that you had one,” retorted Tom.  “First you fellows know, you’ll be pulled in for speeding.”

“I guess we had better go slower, Andy,” advised Sam in a low voice.  “I don’t want to be arrested.”

“Leave this to me,” retorted Andy.  “I’m running this tour.  The next time you get in my way I’ll run you down!” he threatened Tom.  “Come on, fellows, we’re late now, and can’t make a record run, all on account of him,” and Andy got back into the car, followed by his cronies, who had hurriedly alighted after their thrilling stop.

“If you try anything like this again you’ll wish you hadn’t,” declared Tom, and he watched the automobile party ride off.

“Oh, forget it!” snapped back Andy, and he laughed, his companions joining.

Tom Swift said nothing in reply.  Slowly he remounted his wheel and 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 anything special to do, Tom?”