nd so the red-haired lad halted some paces off. The
man, who had followed young Foger, also stopped.

"What do you want around here, Tom Swift?" demanded Andy.

"You know very well what I want," said the young inventor, calmly. "I
want to know what you did with the aeroplane plans you took from my
house."

"I never took any!" declared Andy vigorously

"Well, there's no use discussing that," went on Tom. "What I came here
to find out, and I don't mind telling you, is whether or not you are
building a monoplane to compete against me, and building it on a model
invented by me; and what's more, Andy Foger, I intend to find this out,
too!"

Tom started toward the big shed, which loomed up in the moonlight.

"Stand back!" cried Andy, getting in Tom's way. "I can build any kind
of an aeroplane I like, and you can't stop me!"

"We'll see about that," declared the young inventor, as he kept on.
"I'm not going to allow my plans to be stolen, and a monoplane made
after them, and do nothing about it."

"You keep away!" snarled Andy, and he grabbed Tom by the shoulder and
struck him a blow in the chest. He must have been very much excited, or
otherwise he never would have come to hostilities this way with Tom,
whom he well knew could easily beat him.

The blow, together with the many things he had suffered at Andy's
hands, was too much for our hero. He drew back his fist, and a moment
later Andy Foger was stretched out on the grass. He lay there for a
moment, and then rose up slowly to his knees, his face distorted with
rage.

"You--you hit me!" he snarled.

"Not until you hit first," said Tom calmly.

"Bless my punching bag! That's so!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"You'll suffer for this!" whined Andy, getting to his feet, but taking
care to retreat from Tom, who stood ready for him. "I'll get square
with you for this! Jake, come on, and we'll get our guns!"

Andy turned and hurried back toward the shed, followed by the
evil-looking man, who had apparently been undecided whether to attack
Mr. Damon or Tom. Now the bully and his companion were in full retreat.

"We'll get our guns, and then we'll see whether they'll want to stay
where they're not wanted!" went on Andy, threateningly.

"Bless my powderhorn! What had we better do?" asked Mr. Damon.

"I guess we'd better go back," said Tom calmly. "Not that I'm afraid of
Andy. His talk about guns is all bluff; but I don't want to get into
any more of a row, and he is jus