"I think I'll go to town and get one," he remarked. "The rain isn't quite so hard now."
In spite of his father's mild objections Tom went, using his bicycle, the chain of which he had quickly repaired. He found just the front wheel needed, and that night his motor-cycle was ready to run. But it was too dark to try it then, especially as he had no good lantern, the one on the cycle having been smashed, and his own bicycle light not being powerful enough. So he had to postpone his trial trip until the next day.
He was up early the following morning, and went out for a spin before breakfast. He came back, with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, just as Mr. Swift and Mrs. Baggert were sitting down to the table.
"To Reedville and back," announced Tom proudly.
"What, a round trip of thirty miles!" exclaimed Mr. Swift.
"That's what!" declared his son. "I went like a greased pig most of the way. I had to slow up going through Mansburg, but the rest of the time I let it out for all it was worth.
"You must be careful," cautioned his father. "You are not an expert yet."
"No, I realize that. Several times, when I wanted to slow up, I began to back-pedal, forget-
