t 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.