Part 29 (1/2)

”The light, Ned, the light!” cried Tom.

His chum flashed the powerful beam all around the horizon, and toward the sky, but nothing was visible.

”Try down below,” suggested Mr. Whitford.

Ned sent the beams earthward. And there, in the glare, they saw a youth speeding along on a motor-cycle. In an instant Tom grabbed up the binoculars and focussed them on the rider.

”It's Andy Foger!” he cried.

CHAPTER XXIII

NED IS MISSING

There was a period of silence, following Tom's startling announcement. There were several plate gla.s.s windows in the floor of the airs.h.i.+p, and through these they all gazed at the youth on the motor-cycle. Only Tom, however, by the aid of the gla.s.ses, was able to make out his features.

”Bless my spark plug! Andy Foger!” cried Mr. Damon. ”Are you going to try to catch him?”

”Get him and break chug-chug machine!” suggested Koku.

”What do you suppose he's up to, Tom?” asked Ned.

”Andy Foger speeding along at this hour of the morning,” remarked Mr. Whitford. ”There must be something in the wind.”

”Get a moving picture of him,” urged Mr. Period. ”I might be able to use that.”

”I hardly think it would be worth while,” decided Tom. ”You see Andy hasn't done anything criminal, as far as we know. Of course I think he is capable of it, but that's a different thing. He may be out only on a pleasure jaunt, and he could stop us from showing the pictures, if we took them.”

”That's so,” agreed Mr. Period. ”Don't run any risks of a lawsuit.

It takes up too much of my time. Never mind the pictures.”

”Just capture him, Tom, and see what he is doing,” suggested Mr.

Damon. ”Bless my chewing gum! But he must be up to something.”

”Well, he's aware of the fact that we're watching him, at all events!” exclaimed Mr. Whitford, for, at that moment, Andy, having seen the glare of the light, glanced up. They could see him looking at him, and, a second later, the Shopton bully steered his machine down a side road where the overhanging trees were so thick that he could not be made out, even by the powerful gleams of the great searchlight.

”He's gone!” gasped Ned.

”Afraid I guess,” added Mr. Damon. ”That shows he was up to something wrong. Well, what are we going to do?”

”Nothing, that I can see,” spoke Mr. Whitford. ”We can only go back to our camping place, and make another try. This Andy Foger may, or may not, be in with the smugglers. That's something we have yet to prove. However, we can't do anything now.”

In vain did Ned try to get the bully within range of the light. They could hear the sounds of the motor cycle growing more and more faint, and then, as it was rapidly getting light, and as they did not want to be seen dropping into their camping place, they made all haste toward it, before dawn should break.

”Well, I can't spend any more time here,” declared Mr. Period, when a hasty breakfast had been served.

”Will you ride back with me?” asked Mr. Whitford of the moving picture man.