Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle | Page 8

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 much damaged?"
"The front wheel is," reported Tom, after an inspection, "and there are some other breaks, but I guess--"
"I wish it was all smashed!" exclaimed the man vigorously. "I never want to see it again!"
"Why, don't you like it?" asked Tom eagerly.
"No, and I never will," the man spoke faintly but determinedly.
"Never mind now," interposed Mr. Swift. "Don't excite yourself. My son and I will take you to our house and send for a doctor."
"I'll bring the motor-cycle, after we've carried you in," added Tom.
"Don't worry about the machine. I never want to see it again!" went on the man, rising to a sitting position. "It nearly killed me twice to day. I'll never ride again."
"You'll feel differently after the doctor fixes you up," said Mr. Swift with a smile.
"Doctor! I don't need a doctor," cried the stranger. "I am only bruised and shaken up."
"You have a bad cut on your head," said Tom.
"It isn't very deep," went on the injured man, placing his fingers on it. "Fortunately I struck the tree a glancing blow. If you will allow me to rest in your house a little while and give me some plaster