CHAPTER XX.
ERADICATE SAWS WOOD
The farmer's family, including the son who was a deputy sheriff, wasglad to see Tom. Jed said he had "been on the job" ever since themysterious robbery of Tom had taken place, but though he had seenmany red automobiles he had no trace of the three men.
From Dunkirk Tom went back over the route he had taken in going fromPompville to Centreford, and made some inquiries in the neighborhoodof the church shed, where he had taken shelter. The locality wassparsely settled, however, and no one could give any clues to therobbers.
The young inventor next made a trip over the lonely, sandy road,where he had met with the tramp, Happy Harry. But there were evenfewer houses near that stretch than around the church, so he got nosatisfaction there. Tom spent the night at a country inn, andresumed his search the next morning, but with no results. The menhad apparently completely disappeared, leaving no traces behindthem.
"I may as well go home," thought Tom, as he was riding his motor-cyclealong a pleasant country road. "Dad may be worried, and perhapssomething has turned up in Shopton that will aid me. If there isn't,I'm going to start out again in a few days in another direction."
There was no news in Shopton, however. Tom found his fatherscarcely able to work, so worried was he over the loss of his mostimportant invention.
Two weeks passed, the young machinist taking trips of several days'duration to different points near his home, in the hope ofdiscovering something. But he was unsuccessful, and, in themeanwhile, no reassuring word was received from the lawyers inWashington. Mr. Crawford wrote that no move had yet been made by thethieves to take out patent papers, and while this, in a sense, wassome aid to Mr. Swift, still he could not proceed on his own accountto protect his new motor. All that could be done was to await thefirst movement on the part of the scoundrels.
"I think I'll try a new plan to-morrow, dad," announced Tom onenight, when he and his father had talked over again, for perhaps thetwentieth time, the happenings of the last few weeks.
"What is it, Tom?" asked the inventor.
"Well, I think I'll take a week's trip on my machine. I'll visit allthe small towns around here, but, instead of asking in houses fornews of the tramp or his confederates, I'll go to the police andconstables. I'll ask if they have arrested any tramps recently, and,if they have, I'll ask them to let me see the 'hobo' prisoners."
"What good will that do?"
"I'll tell you. I have an idea that though the burglar who got inhere may not be a regular tramp, yet he disguises himself like oneat times, and may be known to other tramps. If I can get on thetrail of Happy Harry, as he calls himself, I may locate the othermen. Tramps would be very likely to remember such a peculiar chap asHappy Harry, and they will tell me where they had last seen him.Then I will have a starting point."
"Well, that may be a good plan," assented Mr. Swift. "At any rate itwill do no harm to try. A tramp locked up in a country policestation will very likely be willing to talk. Go ahead with thatscheme, Tom, but don't get into any danger. How long will you beaway?"
"I don't know. A week, perhaps; maybe longer. I'll take plenty ofmoney with me, and stop at country hotels overnight."
Tom lost no time in putting his plan into execution. He packed someclothes in a grip, which he attached to the rear of his motor-cycle,and then having said good-by to his father, started off. The firstthree days he met with no success. He located several tramps incountry lock-ups, where they had been sent for begging or loitering,but none of them knew Happy Harry or had ever heard of a trampanswering his description.
"He ain't one of us, youse can make up your mind to dat," said one"hobo" whom Tom interviewed. "No real knight of de highway goesaround in a disguise. We leaves dat for de story-book detectives.I'm de real article, I am, an' I don't know Happy Harry. But, ferdat matter, any of us is happy enough in de summer time, if we don'tstrike a burgh like dis, where dey jugs you fer panhandlin'."
In general, Tom found the tramp willing enough to answer hisquestions, though some were sullen, and returned only surly growlsto his inquiries.
"I guess I'll have to give it up and go back home," he decided onenight. But there was a small town, not many miles from Shopton,which he had not yet visited, and he resolved to try there beforereturning. Accordingly, the next morning found him inquiring of thepolice authorities in Meadton. But no tramps had been arrested inthe last month, and no one had seen anything of a tramp like HappyHarry or three mysterious men in an automobile.
Tom was beginning to despair. Riding along a silent road, thatpassed through a strip of woods, he was trying to think of some newline of procedure, when the silence of the highway, that, hitherto,had resounded only with the muffled explosions of his machine, wasbroken by several exclamations.
"Now, Boomerang, yo' might jest as well start now as later," Tom hearda voice saying--a voice he recognized well. "Yo' hab got t' do disyeah wuk, an' dere ain't no gittin' out ob it. Dis yeah wood am got tobe sawed, an' yo' hab got to saw it. But it am jest laik yo' to goback on yo' ole friend Eradicate in dis yeah fashion. I neber couldtell what yo' were gwine t' do next, an' I cain't now. G'lang, now,won't yo'? Let's git dis yeah sawmill started."
Tom shut off the power and leaped from his wheel. From the woods athis left came the protesting "hee-haw" of a mule.
"Boomerang and Eradicate Sampson!" exclaimed the young inventor."What can they be doing here?"
He leaned his motor-cycle against the fence and advanced towardwhere he had heard the voice of the colored man. In a littleclearing he saw him. Eradicate was presiding over a portablesawmill, worked by a treadmill, on the incline of which was themule, its ears laid back, and an unmistakable expression of anger onits face.
"Why, Rad, what are you doing?" cried Tom.
"Good land o' massy! Ef it ain't young Mistah Swift!" cried thedarky. "Howdy, Mistah Swift! Howdy! I'm jest tryin' t' saw somewood, t' make a livin', but Boomerang he doan't seem t' want t'lib," and with that Eradicate looked reproachfully at the animal.
"What seems to be the trouble, and how did you come to own thissawmill?" asked Tom.
"I'll tell yo', Mistah Swift, I'll tell yo'," spoke Eradicate. "Sitright yeah on dis log, an' I'll explanation it to yo'."
"The last time I saw you, you were preparing to go into the grass-cuttingbusiness," went on Tom.
"Yais, sah! Dat's right. So I was. Yo' has got a memory, yo' suahhas. But it am dis yeah way. Grass ain't growin' quick enough, an'so I traded off dat lawn-moah an' bought dis yeah mill. But now itwon't go, an' I suah am in trouble," and once more Eradicate Sampsonlooked indignantly at Boomerang.