“Hu!  Well, you’ll not get it.  I’m going to take that boat,” retorted the squint-eyed bully.  “Dad gave me the money to get it.”

“All right,” answered Tom non-committally.  “Go ahead.  It’s a free country.”

He stood his motor-cycle up against a tree and went toward a group of persons who were surrounding the auctioneer.  The time had arrived to start the sale.  As Tom edged in closer he brushed against a man who looked at him sharply.  The lad was just wondering if he had ever seen the individual before, as there seemed to be something strangely familiar about him, when the man turned quickly away, as if afraid of being recognized.

“That’s odd,” thought Tom, but he had no further time for speculation, as the auctioneer was mounting on a soapbox and had begun to address the gathering.

CHAPTER II

SOME LIVELY BIDDING

“Attention, people!” cried the auctioneer.  “Give me your attention for a few minutes, and we will proceed with the business in hand.  As you all know, I am about to dispose of a fine motor-boat, the property of Mr. Bently Hastings.  The reason for disposing of it at auction is known to most of you, but for the benefit of those who do not, I will briefly state them.  The boat was stolen by a gang of thieves and recovered recently through the efforts of a young man, Thomas Swift, son of Barton Swift, our fellow-townsman, of Shopton.”  At that moment the auctioneer, Jacob Wood, caught sight of Tom in the press, and, looking directly at the lad, continued: 

“I understand that young Mr. Swift is here to-day, and I hope he intends to bid on this boat.  If he does, the bidding will be lively, for Tom Swift is a lively young man.  I wish I could say that some of the men who stole the boat were here to-day.”

The auctioneer paused and there were some murmurs from those in the throng as to why such a wish should be uttered.  Tom felt some one moving near him, and, looking around, he saw the same man with whom he had come in contact before.  The person seemed desirous of getting out on the edge of the crowd, and Tom felt a return of his vague suspicions.  He looked closely at the fellow, but could trace no resemblance to any of the men who had so daringly stolen his father’s model.

“The reason I wish they were here to-day,” went on Mr. Wood, “is that the men did some slight damage to the boat, and if they were here to-day we would make them pay for it.  However, the damage is slight and can easily be repaired.  I mention that, as Mr. Hastings desired me to.  Now we will proceed with the bidding, and I will say that an opportunity will first be given all to examine the boat.  Perhaps Tom Swift will give us his opinion on the state it is in as we know he is well qualified to talk about machinery.”

All eyes were turned on Tom, for many knew him.

“Humph!  I guess I know as much about boats and motors as he does,” sneered Andy Foger.  ’He isn’t the only one in this crowd!  Why didn’t the auctioneer ask me?”