“There’s something in that,” admitted Mr. Swift, and Tom, seeing that his father was favorably inclined, renewed his arguments, until the inventor finally agreed.

“It will be a great trip!” exclaimed Tom.  “I’ll go all over my machine now, to see that it’s in good shape.  You get your papers and model ready, dad, and I’ll take them to Albany for you.  The motor-cycle will come in handy.”

But had Tom only known the dangers ahead of him, and the risks he was to run, he would not have whistled so light heartedly as he went over every nut and bolt on his machine.

Two days later, the valuable model, having been made into a convenient package, and wrapped in water-proof paper, was fastened back of the saddle on the motor-cycle.  Tom carefully pinned in an inside pocket the papers which were to be handed to Mr. Crawford.  He was to meet the lawyer at a hotel in Albany.

“Now take care of yourself, Tom,” cautioned his father as he bade him good-by.  “Don’t try to make speed, as there is no special rush.  And, above all, don’t lose anything.”

“I’ll not, dad,” and with a wave of his hand to Mr. Swift and the housekeeper, who stood in the door to see him off, Tom jumped into the saddle, started the machine, and then, after sufficient momentum had been attained, he turned on the gasolene and set the spark lever.  With rattles and bangs, which were quickly subdued by the muffler, the machine gathered speed.  Tom was off for Albany.

CHAPTER XI.

A VINDICTIVE TRAMP

Though Tom’s father had told him there was no necessity for any great speed, the young inventor could not resist the opportunity for pushing his machine to the limit.  The road was a level one and in good condition, so the motor-cycle fairly flew along.  The day was pleasant, a warm sun shining overhead, and it was evident that early summer was crowding spring rather closely.

“This is glorious!” exclaimed Tom aloud as he spun along.  “I’m glad I persuaded dad to let me take this trip.  It was a great idea.  Wish Ned Newton was along, though.  He’d be company for me, but, as Ned would say, there are two good reasons why he can’t come.  One is he has to work in the bank, and the other is that he has no motor-cycle.”

Tom swept past house after house along the road, heading in the opposite direction from that in which lay the town of Shopton and the city of Mansburg.  For several miles Tom’s route would lie through a country district.  The first large town he would reach would be Centreford.  He planned to get lunch there, and he had brought a few sandwiches with him to eat along the road in case he became hungry before he reached the place.

“I hope the package containing the model doesn’t jar off,” mused the lad as he reached behind to make sure that the precious bundle was safe.  “Dad would be in a bad way if that should disappear.  And the papers, too.”  He put his hand to his inner pocket to feel that they were secure.  Coming to a little down-grade, Tom shut off some of the power, the new levers he had arranged to control the gasolene and spark working well.