Master Tom?" asked Garret Jackson, the aged engineer.
"Well, Garret, you never can tell," replied the young inventor, as he told of his experience and the necessity for Mr. Swift going to Albany. "Some of those scoundrels, finding how easy it was to rob me, may try it again, and get some of dad's other valuable models. I'm taking no chances."
"That's right. Master Tom. I'll keep steam up in the boiler to-night, though we don't really need it, as your father told me you would probably not run any machinery when he was gone. But with a good head of steam up, and a hose handy, I can give any burglars a hot reception. I almost wish they'd come, so I could get square with them."
"I don't. Garret. Well, I guess everything is in good shape. If you hear anything unusual, or the alarm goes off during the night, call me."
"I will. Master Tom," and the old engineer, who had a living-room in a shack adjoining the boiler-room, locked the door after Tom left.
The young inventor spent the early evening in attaching a new wire to his motor-cycle to replace the one he had purchased while on his disastrous trip. The temporary one was not just the proper thing, though it answered well enough. Then,
