g along joyously, when
from a cross-road he suddenly saw turn into the main highway a mule,
drawing a ramshackle wagon, loaded with fence posts. Beside the
animal walked an old colored man.

"I hope he gets out of the way in time," thought Tom. "He's moving
as slow as molasses, and I'm going a bit faster than I like. Guess
I'll shut off and put on the brakes."

The mule and wagon were now squarely across the road. Tom was coming
nearer and nearer. He turned the handle-grip, controlling the supply
of gasolene, and to his horror he found that it was stuck. He could
not stop the motor-cycle!

"Look out! Look out!" cried Tom to the negro. "Get out of the way! I
can't stop! Let me pass you!"

The darky looked up. He saw the approaching machine, and he seemed
to lose possession of his senses.

"Whoa, Boomerang!" cried the negro. "Whoa! Suffin's gwine t'
happen!"

"That's what!" muttered Tom desperately, as he saw that there was
not room for him to pass without going into the ditch, a proceeding
that would mean an upset. "Pull out of the way!" he yelled again.

But either the driver could not understand, or did not appreciate
the necessity. The mule stopped and reared up. The colored man
hurried to the head of the animal to quiet it.

"Whoa, Boomerang! Jest yo' stand still!" he said.

Tom, with a great effort, managed to twist the grip and finally shut
off the gasolene. But it was too late. He struck the darky with the
front wheel. Fortunately the youth had managed to somewhat reduce
his speed by a quick application of the brake, or the result might
have been serious. As it was, the colored man was gently lifted away
from the mule's head and tossed into the long grass in the ditch.
Tom, by a great effort, succeeded in maintaining his seat in the
saddle, and then, bringing the machine to a stop, he leaped off and
turned back.

The colored man was sitting up, looking dazed.

"Whoa, Boomerang!" he murmured. "Suffin's happened!"

But the mule, who had quieted down, only waggled his ears lazily,
and Tom, ready to laugh, now that he saw he had not committed
manslaughter, hurried to where the colored man was sitting.

CHAPTER VIII.

SUSPICIOUS ACTIONS

"Are you hurt?" asked Tom as he leaned his motor-cycle against the
fence and stood beside the negro.

"Hurt?" repeated the darky. "I'se killed, dat's what I is! I ain't
got a whole bone in mah body! Good landy, but I suttinly am in a
awful state! Would yo