Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle | Page 8

the handle-bars to make up for lost time.
Our hero was within a short distance of his house and was coasting
easily along when, just ahead of him, he saw a cloud of dust, very
similar to the one that had, some time before, concealed the
inexperienced motor-cyclist.
"I wonder if that's him again?" thought Tom. "If it is I'm going to hang
back until I see which way he's headed. No use running any more
risks."
Almost at that moment a puff of wind blew some of the dust to one side.
Tom had a glimpse of the man on the puffing machine.

"It's the same chap!" he exclaimed aloud; "and he's going the same way
I am. Well, I'll not try to catch up to him. I wonder what he's been
doing all this while, that he hasn't gotten any farther than this? Either
he's been riding back and forth, or else he's been resting. My, but he
certainly is scooting along!"
The wind carried to Tom the sound of the explosions of the motor, and
he could see the man clinging tightly to the handle-bars. The rider was
almost in front of Tom's house now, when, with a suddenness that
caused the lad to utter an exclamation of alarm, the stranger turned his
machine right toward a big oak tree.
"What's he up to?" cried Tom excitedly. "Does he think he can climb
that, or is he giving an exhibition by showing how close he can come
and not hit it?"
A moment later the motor-cyclist struck the tree a glancing blow. The
man went flying over the handle-bars, the machine was shunted to the
ditch along the road, and falling over on one side the motor raced
furiously. The rider lay in a heap at the foot of the tree.
"My, that was a smash!" cried Tom. "He must be killed!" and bending
forward, he raced toward the scene of the accident.

CHAPTER IV.
TOM AND A MOTOR-CYCLE
When Tom reached the prostrate figure on the grass at the foot of the
old oak tree, the youth bent quickly over the man. There was an ugly
cut on his head, and blood was flowing from it. But Tom quickly
noticed that the stranger was breathing, though not very strongly.
"Well, he's not dead--just yet!" exclaimed the youth with a sigh of relief.
"But I guess he's pretty badly hurt. I must get help--no, I'll take him
into our house. It's not far. I'll call dad."

Leaning his wheel against the tree Tom started for his home, about
three hundred feet away, and then he noticed that the stranger's
motor-cycle was running at full speed on the ground.
"Guess I'd better shut off the power!" he exclaimed. "No use letting the
machine be ruined." Tom had a natural love for machinery, and it hurt
him almost as much to see a piece of fine apparatus abused as it did to
see an animal mistreated. It was the work of a moment to shut off the
gasolene and spark, and then the youth raced on toward his house.
"Where's dad?" he called to Mrs. Baggert, who was washing the dishes.
"Out in one of the shops," replied the housekeeper. "Why, Tom," she
went on hurriedly as she saw how excited he was, "whatever has
happened?"
"Man hurt--out in front--motor-cycle smash--I'm going to bring him in
here--get some things ready--I'll find dad!"
"Bless and save us!" cried Mrs. Baggert. "Whatever are we coming to?
Who's hurt? How did it happen? Is he dead?"
"Haven't time to talk now!" answered Tom, rushing from the house.
"Dad and I will bring him in here."
Tom found his father in one of the three small machine shops on the
grounds about the Swift home. The youth hurriedly told what had
happened.
"Of course we'll bring him right in here!" assented Mr. Swift, putting
aside the work upon which he was engaged. "Did you tell Mrs.
Baggert?"
"Yes, and she's all excited."
"Well, she can't help it, being a woman, I suppose. But we'll manage.
Do you know the man?"
"Never saw him before to-day, when he tried to run me down. Guess he

doesn't know much about motor-cycles. But come on, dad. He may
bleed to death."
Father and son hurried to where the stranger lay. As they bent over him
he opened his eyes and asked faintly:
"Where am I? What happened?"
"You're all right--in good hands," said Mr. Swift. "Are you much hurt?"
"Not much--mostly stunned, I guess. What happened?" he repeated.
"You and your motor-cycle tried to climb a tree," remarked Tom with
grim humor.
"Oh, yes, I remember now. I couldn't seem to steer out of the way. And
I couldn't shut off the power in time. Is the motor-cycle