Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle | Page 9

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 for the cut I
shall be all right again."
"Can you walk, or shall we carry you?" asked Tom's father.
"Oh, I can walk, if you'll support me a little." And the stranger proved
that he could do this by getting to his feet and taking a few steps. Mr.
Swift and his son took hold of his arms and led him to the house. There
he was placed on a lounge and given some simple restoratives by Mrs.
Baggert, who, when she found the accident was not serious, recovered
her composure.
"I must have been unconscious for a few minutes," went on the man.
"You were," explained Tom. "When I got up to you I thought you were
dead, until I saw you breathe. Then I shut off the power of your
machine and ran in for dad. I've got the motor-cycle outside. You can't
ride it for some time, I'm afraid, Mr.--er--" and Tom stopped in some
confusion, for he realized that he did not know the man's name.
"I beg your pardon for not introducing myself before," went on the
stranger. "I'm Wakefield Damon, of Waterfield. But don't worry about
me riding that machine again. I never shall."
"Oh, perhaps--" began Mr. Swift.
"No, I never shall," went on Mr. Damon positively. "My doctor told me
to get it, as he thought riding around the country would benefit my
health I shall tell him his prescription nearly killed me."

"And me too," added Tom with a laugh.
"How--why--are you the young man I nearly ran down this morning?"
asked Mr. Damon, suddenly sitting up and looking at the youth.
"I am," answered our hero.
"Bless my soul! So you are!" cried Mr. Damon. "I was wondering who
it could be. It's quite a coincidence. But I was in such a cloud of dust I
couldn't make out who it was."
"You had your muffler open, and that made considerable dust,"
explained Tom.
"Was that it? Bless my existence! I thought something was wrong, but I
couldn't tell what. I went over all the instructions in the book and those
the agent told me, but I couldn't think of the right one. I tried all sorts of
things to make less dust, but I couldn't. Then, bless my eyelashes, if the
machine didn't stop just after I nearly ran into you. I tinkered over it for
an hour or more before I could get it to going again. Then I ran into the
tree. My doctor told me the machine would do my liver good, but, bless
my happiness, I'd as soon be without a liver entirely as to do what I've
done to-day. I am done with motor-cycling!"
A hopeful look came over Tom's face, but he said nothing, that is, not
just then. In a little while Mr. Damon felt so much better that he said he
would start for home. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave your machine
here," said Tom.
"You can send for it any time you want to," added Mr. Swift.
"Bless my hatband!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, who appeared to be very
fond of blessing his various organs and his articles of wearing apparel.
"Bless my hatband! I never want to see it again! If you will be so kind
as to keep it for me, I will send a junk man after it. I will never spend
anything on having it repaired. I am done with that form of
exercise--liver or no liver--doctor or no doctor."

He appeared very determined. Tom quickly made up his mind. Mr.
Damon had gone