sion. He said Tom had purposely thrown the bottle of blacking at him.
"So that's the kind of a lad Tom Swift is, eh?" remarked Andy's father. "Well, Andy, I think you will soon have a chance to get even with him."
"How, pop?"
"I can't tell you now, but I have a plan for making Tom sorry he ever did anything to you, and I will also pay back some old scores to Mr. Swift and Mr. Damon. I'll ruin their bank for them, that's what I'll do."
"Ruin their bank, pop? How?"
"You wait and see. The Swift crowd will get off their high horse soon, or I'm mistaken. My plans are nearly completed, but I can't tell you about them. I'll ruin Mr. Swift, though, that's what I'll do," and Mr. Foger shook his head determinedly.
Tom was soon at his home, and Mrs. Baggert, hearing the noise of his machine, as it entered the front yard, came to the side door.
"Where's my blacking?" she asked, as our hero dismounted and untied the bundle of steel tubes he had purchased.
"I—I used it," he answered, laughing.
"Tom Swift! You don't mean to say you
