"All right! Wait a minute! I'm coming!" called Mr. Jackson. He tried to peer through the darkness, to where a huddled2 heap indicated the presence of Tom. Then he thought of the electric lights, which were run by a storage battery when the dynamo was shut down, and a moment later the engineer had switched on the incandescents, filling the big shed with radiance.
"Tom, are you badly hurt?" gasped3 Mr. Jackson.
There was no answer, for Tom was unconscious.
"Let me in! Let me git at dat robber wif mah club!" cried the colored man eagerly.
Knowing that he would need help in carrying Tom to the house, Mr. Jackson hurried to the back door. He had a key to it, and it was quicker to open it than to send Eradicate away around the shed to the front portals.
"Whar am he?" gasped the faithful darky, as he took a firmer grasp of his club and looked around the place. "Let me git mah hands on him! I'll feed him t' Boomerang, when I gits froo wif him!"
"He's gone," said the engineer. "Help me look after Tom. I'm afraid he's badly hurt."
They hastened to the unconscious lad. On one side of his head was a bad cut, which was bleeding freely.
"Oh! he's daid! I know he's daid!" wailed4 Eradicate.
"Not a bit of it. He isn't dead, but he may die, if we don't get him into the house, and have a doctor here soon," said Mr. Jackson sternly. "Catch hold of him, Rad, and, mind, don't carry on, and get excited, and scare Mr. Swift. Just pretend it isn't very bad, or we'll have two patients on our hands instead of only Tom."
They managed to get the youth into the house, and, contrary to their fears, Mr. Swift was not nearly so nervous as they had expected. Calmly he took charge of matters, and even telephoned for Dr. Gladby himself, while Mr. Jackson and Eradicate undressed Tom and got him to bed. Mrs. Baggert busied herself heating water and getting things in readiness for the doctor, who had promised to come at once.
Tom was just regaining6 consciousness when the physician came in, having driven over at top speed.
"What—what happened? Did the Humming-Bird fall?" asked Tom in a whisper, putting his hand to his head.
"No, something fell on you, I guess," said the doctor, who had been hurriedly told of the circumstances. "But don't worry, Tom. You'll be all right in a few days. You got a bad cut on the head, but the skull7 isn't fractured, I'm glad to say. Here, now, just drink this," and he gave Tom some medicine he had mixed in a glass.
The cut was soon dressed, and Tom felt much better, though weak and a trifle dizzy.
"Did he hit me with the hatchet8?" he asked Mr. Jackson.
"I couldn't tell," was the engineer's reply, "it all happened so quickly. In another instant I'd have bowled him over, instead of him landing on you, but I just missed him. He either used the hatchet, or some blunt instrument."
"Well, don't talk about it now," urged the doctor. "I want Tom to get quiet and go to sleep. He'll be much better in the morning, but I must forbid any aeroplane flights." And he shook his finger at Tom in warning. "You'll have to lie quiet for several days," he added.
"All right," agreed the young inventor weakly, and then he dozed10 off, for the physician had given him a quieting medicine.
"Haven't you any idea who it was?" asked Dr. Gladby of Mr. Jackson, as he prepared to leave.
"Not the slightest. It was no one Tom or I had ever seen before. But whoever it was, he intended to destroy the Humming-Bird, that was evident!"
"The scoundrel! I'm glad you foiled him in time; but it's too bad about Tom. However, we'll soon have him all right again."
"I knows who done it!" broke in Eradicate, who was a sort of privileged character about the Swift home.
"Who?" asked Mr. Jackson.
"It were dat Andy Foger. Leastways, he send dat man heah t' make mincemeat oh de Hummin'-Bird. I's positib 'bout9 dat, so I am!" And Eradicate grinned triumphantly11.
"Well, perhaps Andy did have a hand in it," admitted Mr. Swift, "but we have no proof of it, I can't see what his object would be in wanting to destroy Tom's new craft."
"Pure meanness. Afraid that Tom will beat him in the race," suggested Mr. Jackson.
"It's too big a risk to take," went on the
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Chapter Eleven Tom Is Hurt
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