But a week or more passed and Tom had no clew. In the meanwhile he was working away at his motor-boat, installing several improvements.
One of these was a better pump, which circulated the water around the cylinders, and another was a new system of lubrication under forced feed.
"This ought to give me a little more speed," reasoned Tom, who was not yet satisfied with his craft. "Guess I'll take it out for a spin."
He was alone in the ARROW, taking a long course up the lake when, as he passed a wooded point that concealed from view a sort of bay, he heard the puffing of another motor-boat.
"Maybe that's Mr. Hastings," thought Tom. "If I raced with him now, I think the ARROW could give a better account of herself."
The young inventor looked at the boat as it came into view. It needed but a glance to show that it was not the CARLOPA. Then, as it came nearer, Tom saw a familiar figure in it—a red-haired, squint-eyed chap.
"Andy Foger!" exclaimed Tom. "He's got a motor-boat! This is the surprise he spoke of."
The boat was rapidly approaching him, and he saw that it was painted a vivid red. Then he could make out the name on the bow, RED STREAK. Andy was sending the craft toward him at a fast rate.
"You needn't think you're the only one on this lake who has a gasoline boat!" called Andy boastfully. "This is my new one and the fastest thing afloat around here. I can go all around you. Do you want to race?"
It was a "dare," and Tom never took such things when he could reasonably enter a contest. He swung his boat around so as to shoot alongside of Andy and answered: