“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.

“That’s the very thing!” he cried.  “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

Leaving his motor-cycle standing against a tree Tom hurried to a fence that separated the road from a field.  The fence was a barbed-wire one, and in a moment Tom had found a broken strand.

“Guess no one will care if I take a piece of this,” he reasoned.  “It will answer until I can get more.  I’ll have it in place in a jiffy!”

It did not take long to get his pliers from his toolbag and snip off a piece of the wire.  Untwisting it he took out the sharp barbs, and then was ready to attach it to the binding posts of the battery box and the spark plug.

“Hold on, though!” he exclaimed as he paused in the work.  “It’s got to be insulated, or it will vibrate against the metal of the machine and short circuit.  I have it!  My handkerchief!  I s’pose Mrs. Baggert will kick at tearing up a good one, but I can’t help it.”

Tom took a spare handkerchief from the bundle in which he had a few belongings carried with the idea of spending the night at an Albany hotel, and he was soon wrapping strips of linen around the wire, tying them with pieces of string.

“There!” he exclaimed at length.  “That’s insulated good enough, I guess.  Now to fasten it on and start.”

The young inventor, who was quick with tools, soon had the improvised wire in place.  He tested the spark and found that it was almost as good as when the regular copper conductor was in place.  Then, having taken a spare bit of the barbed-wire along in case of another emergency, he jumped on the motor-cycle, pedaled it until sufficient speed was attained, and turned on the power.