Tom more
than anything else was how he had been brought from the church shed
to the one where he had awakened from his stupor.

"Let me try to think," said the boy, speaking aloud, for it seemed
to help him. "The last I remember is seeing that automobile, with
those mysterious men in, approaching. Then it disappeared in the
rain. I thought I heard it again, but I couldn't see it. I was
sitting on the log, and--and--well, that's all I can remember. I
wonder if those men--"

The young inventor paused. Like a flash it came to him that the men
were responsible for his predicament. They had somehow made him
insensible, stolen his motor-cycle, the papers and the model, and
then brought him to this place, wherever it was. Tom was a shrewd
reasoner, and he soon evolved a theory which he afterward learned
was the correct one. He reasoned out almost every step in the crime
of which he was the victim, and at last came to the conclusion that
the men had stolen up behind the shed and attacked him.

"Now, the next question to settle," spoke Tom, "is to learn where I
am. How far did those scoundrels carry me, and what has become of my
motor-cycle?"

He walked toward the point of the shed where he could observe the
stars gleaming, and there he lighted some more matches, hoping he
might see his machine. By the gleam of the little flame he noted
that he was in a farmyard, and he was just puzzling his brain over
the question as to what city or town he might be near when he heard
a voice shouting:

"Here, what you lightin' them matches for? You want to set the place
afire? Who be you, anyhow--a tramp?"

It was unmistakably the voice of a farmer, and Tom could hear
footsteps approaching on the run.

"Who be you, anyhow?" the voice repeated. "I'll have the constable
after you in a jiffy if you're a tramp."

"I'm not a tramp," called Tom promptly. "I've met with an accident.
Where am I?"

"Humph! Mighty funny if you don't know where you are," commented the
farmer. "Jed, bring a lantern until I take a look at who this is."

"All right, pop," answered another voice, and a moment later Tom saw
a tall man standing in front of him.

"I'll give you a look at me without waiting for the lantern," said
Tom quickly, and he struck a match, holding it so that the gleam
fell upon his face.

"Salt mackerel! It's a young feller!" exclaimed the farmer. "Who be
you, anyhow, and what you doin' here?"

"That's just what I would like to know,