There was not much about a motor boat that Tom Swift did not know, and it took him but a few seconds to ascertain that this one was in good working order. No longer considering the need of filing off the leg-iron, Tom pushed the boat out from the dock, which was merely a few old logs and planks, and prepared to start the engine.
He turned the flywheel and, almost at the first revolution after he had thrown the spark switch, the engine was in motion. But even as it glided out of the little cove Tom was aware of the presence of another craft. Around one of the points of the cove, as he guided his boat out, the other swung in, and a glance showed it to be occupied by four rough-looking men.
Two of them wore masks. The faces of the other two were familiar to Tom, for they were two of his recently discharged workmen—Kenny and Schlump!
Tom had a feeling that some desperate work was in prospect. The attack on him, the rendering of him unconscious, his being chained fast—all this was more than accidental coincidence following his trailing of the man who had disappeared down in the tunnel.
For a moment those in the second boat remained gazing, spellbound, it seemed, at Tom, who was rapidly putting distance between himself and those he felt were his enemies. The boat he had so unexpectedly found proved to be a speedy little craft. But the other was also.
“There’s Tom Swift now!” cried Schlump, pointing.
“Where?” asked one of the masked men.
“In our boat!” Schlump answered. “Come back here!” he roared, shaking his fist at Tom.
“Come back nothing!” taunted the young inventor.
“Don’t stop to talk!” shouted one of the masked men. “Speed up! We must catch Swift at any cost!”