Only I don't like to think that people have been in here.
They may have stolen some of my ideas. I must keep this place locked
night and day after this."
Tom spent a busy week in making improvements on his craft. Mr. Swift was
doing well, and after a consultation by Dr. Kurtz and Dr. Gladby it was
decided to adopt a new style of treatment. In the meanwhile, Mr. Swift
kept his promise, and did no work. He sat in his easy-chair, out in the
garden, and dozed away, while Tom visited him frequently to see if he
needed anything.
"Poor old dad!" mused the young inventor. "I hope he is well enough to
come and see me try for the ten-thousand-dollar prize--and win it! I
hope I do; but if some one builds, from my stolen plans, a machine on
this model, I'll have my work cut out for me." And he gazed with pride
on the Humming-Bird.
For the past two weeks Tom had seen nothing of Andy Foger. The
red-haired bully seemed to have dropped out of sight, and even his
cronies, Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey, did not know where he had gone.
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