"No one else;" and Ned grinned. "Looking for a good place to fish, I presume?"

Then, at least for once, the man's suave manner dropped from him as if it had been a mask. He bared his teeth in a snarl as he answered:

"Mind your own business!"

"Something I'd advise you also to do," replied Ned smoothly. "You can't see anything from there," he went on. "Better go back to the tree and--cut a fishing pole!"

With this parting shot Ned sauntered down the hill, and swung around to make his way toward Tom's home. He paid no further attention to the man, save to determine, by listening, that the fellow was searching among the bushes for the dropped telescope.

The young inventor was at home, taking a hasty lunch which Mrs. Baggert had set out for him, the while he poured over some blueprint drawings that, to Ned's unaccustomed eyes, looked like the mazes of some intricate puzzle.

"Well, where have you been keeping yourself, old man?" asked Tom Swift, after he had greeted his friend.

"I might ask the same of you," retorted Ned, with a smile. "I've been trying to find you to give you some important information, and I made up my mind, after what happened to-day, to write it and leave it for you if I didn't see you."

"What happened to-day?" asked Tom, and there was a serious look on his face.

"You are being spied upon--at least, that part of your works enclosed in the new fence is," replied Ned.

"You don't mean it!" Cried Tom. "This accounts for some of it, then."

"For some of what?" asked Ned.

"For some of the actions of that Blakeson, He's been hanging around here, I understand, asking too many questions about things that I'm trying to keep secret--even from my best friends," and as Tom said this Ned fancied there was a note of regret in his voice.

"Yes, you are keeping some things secret, Tom," said Ned, determined "to take the bull by the horns," as it were.

"I'm sorry, but it has to be," went on Tom. "In a little while--"

"Oh, don't think that I'm at all anxious to know things!" broke in Ned.

"I was thinking of some one else, Tom--another of your friends."

"Do you mean Mary?"

Ned nodded.

"She feels rather keenly your lack of explanations," went on the young bank clerk. "If you could only give her a hint--"

"I'm sorry, but it can't be done," and Tom spoke firmly. "But you haven't told me all that happened. You say I am being spied upon."

"Yes," and Ned related what had taken place in the tree.

"Whew!" whistled Tom. "That's going some with a vengeance! I must have that tree down in a jiffy. I didn't imagine there was a spot where the yard could be overlooked. But I evidently skipped that tree.

Fortunately it's on land owned by a concern with which I have some connection, and I can have it chopped down without any trouble. Much obliged to you, Ned. I shan't forget this in a hurry. I'll go right away and--"

Tom's further remark was interrupted by the hurried entrance of Eradicate Sampson. The old man was smiling in pleased antic.i.p.ation, evidently, at the same time, trying hard not to give way to too much emotion.

"I's done it, Ma.s.sa Tom!" he cried exultingly.

"Done what?" asked the young inventor. "I hope you and Koku haven't had another row."

"No, sah! I don't want nuffin t' do wif dat ornery, low-down white trash! But I's gone an' done whut I said I'd do!"

"What's that, Rad? Come on, tell us! Don't keep us in suspense."

"I's done some deteckertiff wuk, lest laik I said I'd do, an' I's cotched him! By golly, Ma.s.sa Tom! I's cotched him black-handed, as it says!"

"Caught him? Whom have you caught, Rad?" cried Tom. "Do you suppose he means he's caught the man you saw up the tree, Ned? The man you think is a German spy?"

"It couldn't be. I left him only a little while ago hunting for his telescope."

"Then whom have you caught, Rad?" cried Tom. "Come on, I'll give you credit for it. Tell us!"

"I's cotched dat Dutch Sauerkrauter, dat's who I's cotched, Ma.s.sa Tom!

By golly, I's cotched him!"

"But who, Rad? Who is he?"

"I don't know his name, Ma.s.sa Tom, but he's a Sauerkrauter, all right.

Dat's whut he eats for lunch, an' dat's why I calls him dat. I's cotched him, an' he's locked up in de stable wif mah mule Boomerang.

An' ef he tries t' git out Boomerang'll jest natchully kick him into little pieces--dat's whut Boomerang will do, by golly!"

Chapter IX

A Night Test

"Come on, Ned," said Tom, after a moment or two of silent contemplation of Eradicate. "I don't know what this cheerful camouflager of mine is talking about, but we'll have to go to see, I suppose. You say you have shut some one up in Boomerang's stable, Rad?"

"Yes, sah, Ma.s.sa Tom, dat's whut I's gone an done."

"And you say he's a German?"

"I don't know as to dat, Ma.s.sa Tom, but he suah done eat sauerkraut 'mostest ebery meal. Dat's whut I call him--a Sauerkrauter! An' he suah was spyin'."

"How do you know that, Rad?"

"'Cause he done went from his own shop on annuder man's ticket into de secret shop, dat's whut he went an' done!"

"Do you mean to tell me, Rad," went on Tom, "that one of the workmen from another shop entered Number Thirteen on the pa.s.s issued in the name of one of the men regularly employed in my new shop?"

"Dat's whut he done, Ma.s.sa Tom."

"How do you know?"