Swift, with a worried look on
his face, followed his son. Mr. Sharp stood in the door of
the shop.
"I thought I heard some one moving around back here," went
on Tom quietly.
"Some one in this shop!" exclaimed the aged inventor
excitedly. "Some one trying to steal my ideas again! Mr.
Sharp, come here! Bring that rifle! We'll teach these
scoundrels a lesson!"
Tom quickly darted hack to the extreme rear of the
building. There was a scuffle, and the next minute Tom cried
out:
"What are you doing here?"
"Ha! I beg your pardon," replied a voice. "I am looking
for Mr. Barton Swift."
"My father," remarked Tom. "But that's a queer place to
look for him. He's up front. Father, here's a man who wishes
to see you," he called.
"Yes, I strolled in, and seeing no one about I went to the
rear of the place," the voice went on. "I hope I haven't
transgressed."
"We were busy on the other side of the shop, I guess,"
replied Tom, and he looked suspiciously at the man who
emerged from the darkness into the light from a window. "I
beg your pardon for grabbing you the way I did," went on the
lad, "but I thought you were one of a gang of men we've been
having trouble with."
"Oh, that's all right," continued the man easily. "I know
Mr. Swift, and I think he will remember me.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38