I'll help you, Mr Damon," for the young inventor had recognized the eccentric man of whom he had purchased the motor-cycle and who had helped him in rounding up the thieves.
"Why, bless my shoe-laces, if it isn't Tom Swift!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, who seemed very fond of calling down blessings upon himself or upon articles of his dress or person.
"Yes, I'm here," admitted Tom with a laugh.
"And in a motor-boat, too! Bless my pocketbook, but did that run away with some one who sold it to you cheap?"
"No, not exactly," and the lad explained how he had come into possession of it. By this time he was ashore and had tied the Arrow to an overhanging tree. Then Tom proceeded to where Mr. Damon had left his stalled automobile. The eccentric man was wealthy and his physician had instructed him to ride about in the car for his health. Tom soon located the trouble. The carburetor had become clogged, and it was soon in working order again.
"Well, now that you have a boat, I don't suppose you will be riding about the country so much," commented Mr. Damon as he got into his car. "Bless my spark-plug! but if you ever get over to Waterfield, where I live, come and see me. It's handy to get to by water."
