The wind carried to Tom the 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.