stless at first, and the thought
of the loss of the model and the papers preyed on his mind. Then,
utterly exhausted, he sank into a heavy slumber, and did not awaken
until the sun was shining in his window the next morning. A good
breakfast made him feel somewhat better, and he was more like the
resourceful Tom Swift of old when he went to get his motor-cycle in
shape for the ride back to Shopton.

"Well, I hope you find those criminals," said Mr. Blackford, as he
watched Tom oiling the machine. "If you're ever out this way again,
stop off and see us."

"Yes, do," urged Mrs. Blackford, who was getting ready to churn. Her
husband looked at the old-fashioned barrel and dasher arrangement,
which she was filling with cream.

"What's the matter with the new churn?" he asked in some surprise.

"It's broken," she replied. "It's always the way with those new-fangled
things. It works ever so much nicer than this old one, though,"
she went on to Tom, "but it gets out of order easy."

"Let me look at it," suggested the young inventor. "I know something
about machinery."

The churn, which worked by a system of cogs and a handle, was
brought from the woodshed. Tom soon saw what the trouble was. One of
the cogs had become displaced. It did not take him five minutes,
with the tools he carried on his motor-cycle, to put it back, and
the churn was ready to use.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Blackford. "You are handy at such
things!"

"Oh, it's just a knack," replied Tom modestly. "Now I'll put a plug
in there, and the cog wheel won't come loose again. The
manufacturers of it ought to have done that. I imagine lots of
people have this same trouble with these churns."

"Indeed they do," asserted Mrs. Blackford. "Sallie Armstrong has
one, and it got out of order the first week they had it. I'll let
her look at mine, and maybe her husband can fix it."

"I'd go and do it myself, but I want to get home," said Tom, and
then he showed her how, by inserting a small iron plug in a certain
place, there would be no danger of the cog coming loose again.

"That's certainly slick!" exclaimed Mr. Blackford. "Well, I wish you
good luck, Mr. Swift, and if I see those scoundrels around this
neighborhood again I'll make 'em wish they'd let you alone."

"That's what," added Jed, polishing his badge with his big, red
handkerchief.

Mrs. Blackford transferred the cream to the new churn which Tom had
fixed, and as he rode off down the h