Baggert busied herself heating water and getting things in readiness for
the doctor, who had promised to come at once.

Tom was just regaining 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 skull
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 hatchet?" 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. We'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.