other, looked up at the sky, as if seeking inspiration there, and then down at the ground, as if that would help him to think. Then he clapped his hands smartly together and cried out:
"Bless my shoe buttons!"
"Have you seen them?" asked Tom eagerly.
"Was your boat one with a red arrow painted on the bow?" asked Mr. Damon in turn.
"It was!" and the lad was now almost as excited as was his friend.
"Then I've seen it, and, what's more, this morning! Bless my spark plug, I've seen it!"
"Tell me about it!" pleaded the young inventor, and Mr. Damon, calming himself after an effort, resumed:
"I was out for an early spin in my auto," he said, "and was traveling along a road that bordered the lake, about fifteen miles above here. I heard a motor-boat puffing along near shore, and, looking through the trees, I saw one containing three men. It had a red arrow on the bow, and that's why I noticed it, because I recalled that your boat was named the Dart."
"Arrow," corrected Tom.
"The Arrow. Oh, yes, I knew it was something like that. Well, of course at the time I didn't think that it was your boat, but I asso-
