“But then I guess what I think about it won’t influence the weather man a bit.  I might as well make myself comfortable, for I can’t do anything.  Let’s see.  If I get to Fordham by six o’clock I ought to be able to make Albany by nine, as it’s only forty miles.  I’ll get supper in Fordham, and push on.  That is, I will if the rain stops.”

That was the most necessary matter to have happen first, and Tom arising from his seat strolled over to the front of the shed to look out.

“I believe it is getting lighter in the west,” he told himself.  “Yes, the clouds are lifting.  It’s going to clear.  It’s only a summer shower, after all.”

But just as he said that there came a sudden squall of wind and rain, fiercer than any which had preceded.  Tom was driven back to his seat on the log.  It was quite chilly now, and he noticed that near where he sat there was a big opening in the rear of the shed, where a couple of boards were off.

“This must be a draughty place in winter,” he observed.  “If I could find a drier spot I’d sit there, but this seems to be the best,” and he remained there, musing on many things.  Suddenly in the midst of his thoughts he imagined he heard the sound of an automobile approaching.  “I wonder if those men are coming back here?” he exclaimed.  “If they are—­”

The youth again arose, and went to the front of the shed.  He could see nothing, and came back to escape the rain.  There was no doubt but that the shower would soon be over, and looking at his watch, Tom began to calculate when he might arrive in Albany.

He was busy trying to figure out the best plan to pursue, and was hardly conscious of his surroundings.  Seated on the log, with his back to the opening in the shed, the young inventor could not see a figure stealthily creeping up through the wet grass.  Nor could he see an automobile, which had come to a stop back of the horse shelter—­an automobile containing two rain-soaked men, who were anxiously watching the one stealing through the grass.

Tom put his watch back into his pocket and looked out into the storm.  It was almost over.  The sun was trying to shine through the clouds, and only a few drops were falling.  The youth stretched with a yawn, for he was tired of sitting still.  At the moment when he raised his arms to relieve his muscles something was thrust through the opening behind him.  It was a long club, and an instant later it descended on the lad’s head.  He went down in a heap, limp and motionless.

Through the opening leaped a man.  He bent over Tom, looked anxiously at him, and then, stepping to the place where the boards were off the shed, he motioned to the men in the automobile.

They hurried from the machine, and were soon beside their companion.

“I knocked him out, all right,” observed the man who had reached through and dealt Tom the blow with the club.

“Knocked him out!  I should say you did, Featherton!” exclaimed one who appeared better dressed than the others.  “Have you killed him?”