His hunger was forgotten in this.  He stepped from the boat to a secluded spot on the shore.  The craft, he noted, was well hidden.

“I’ve got to go back to where I left my motor-cycle, jump on that, and ride for aid,” he reasoned.  “Maybe I can get the charcoal-burner to go for me, while I come back and stand guard.  I guess that would be the best plan.  I certainly ought to be on hand, for there is no telling when these fellows will skip out with the model, if they haven’t gone already.  I hate to leave, yet I’ve got to.  It’s the only way.  I wish I’d done as dad suggested, and brought help.  But it’s too late for that.  Well, I’m off.”

Tom took a last look at the motor-boat, which was a fine one.  He wished it was his.  Then he struck through the woods.  He had his bearings now, and was soon at the place where he had left his machine.  It had not been disturbed.  He caught a glimpse of the old mansion on his way out of the woods.  There appeared to be no one stirring about it.

“I hope my birds haven’t flown!” he exclaimed, and the thought gave him such uneasiness that he put it from him.  Pushing his heavy machine ahead of him until he came to a good road, he mounted it, and was soon at the charcoal-burner’s shack.  There came no answer to his knock, and Tom pushed open the door.  The old man was not in.  Tom could not send him for help.

“My luck seems to be against me!” he murmured.  “But I can get something to eat here, anyhow.  I’m almost starved!”

He found the kitchen utensils, and made some coffee, also frying some bacon and eggs.  Then, feeling much refreshed, and having left on the table some money to pay for the inroad he had made on the victuals, he started to go outside.

As our hero stepped to the door he was greeted by a savage growl that made him start in alarm.

“A dog!” he mused.  “I didn’t know there was one around.”

He looked outside and there, to his dismay, saw a big, savage-appearing bulldog standing close to where he had left his motor-cycle.  The animal had been sniffing suspiciously at the machine.

“Good dog!” called Tom.  “Come here!”

But the bulldog did not come.  Instead the beast stood still, showed his teeth to Tom and growled in a low tone.

“Wonder if the owner can be near?” mused the young inventor.  “That dog won’t let me get my machine, I am afraid.”

Tom spoke to the animal again and again the dog growled and showed his teeth.  He next made a move as if to leap into the house, and Tom quickly stepped back and banged shut the door.

“Well, if this isn’t the worst yet!” cried the youth to himself.  “Here, just at the time I want to be off, I must be held up by such a brute as that outside.  Wonder how long he’ll keep me a prisoner?”

Tom went to a window and peered out.  No person had appeared and the lad rightly surmised that the bulldog had come to the cottage alone.  The beast appeared to be hungry, and this gave Tom a sudden idea.