But there was no trace of him. The next thing to do was to learn if he had really started for the Kanker farm. "For if he didn't go there," suggested Ned, "it will look funny for us to go out there making inquiries about him. And it may be that after he got that message Tom decided not to go." Accordingly they made enough inquiries to establish the fact that Tom had started for the farm of the rascally Kanker, who had been so insistent in the matter of his almost worthless barn. A number of people who knew Tom well had seen him pass in the direction of Kanker's place, and some had spoken to him, for the young inventor was well known in the vicinity of Shopton and the neighboring towns. "Well, out to Kanker's we'll go!" decided Ned. "And if anything has happened to Tom there--well, we'll make whoever is responsible wish it hadn't!" "Bless my fountain pen, but that's what we will!" chimed in Mr. Damon. And so the two began the search for the missing youth. Chapter XXI A Prisoner Amos Kanker came to the door of his farmhouse as Ned and Mr. Damon drove up in the runabout. There was an unpleasant grin on the not very prepossessing face of the farmer, and what Ned thought was a cunning look, as he slouched out and asked: "Well, what do you want? Come to smash up any more of my barns at three thousand dollars a smash?" "Hardly," answered Ned shortly. "Your prices are too high for such ramshackle barns as you have. Where's Tom Swift?" he asked sharply. "Huh! Do you mean that young whipper-snapper with his big traction engine?" demanded Mr. Kanker. "Look here!" blustered Mr. Damon, "Tom Swift is neither a whipper-snapper nor is his machine a traction engine. It's a war tank." "That doesn't matter much to me," said the farmer, with a grating laugh. "It looks like a traction engine, though it smashes things up more'n any one I ever saw." "That isn't the point," broke in Ned. "Where is my friend, Tom Swift? That's what we want to know." "Huh! What makes you think I can tell you?" demanded Kanker. "Didn't he come out here?" asked Mr. Damon. "Not as I knows of," was the surly answer.