CHAPTER III.
IN A SMASH-UP
Though the young inventor listened intently, in an endeavor to hearthe conversation of the men at the table behind him, all he couldcatch was an indistinct murmur. The strangers appeared to haveheeded the caution of one of their number and were speaking in lowtones.
Tom and Ned finished their meal, and started to leave therestaurant. As Mr. Swift's son passed the table where the men satthey looked up quickly at him. Two of them gave Tom but a passingglance, but one--he whom the young inventor had noticed in thepost-office--stared long and intently.
"I think he will know me the next time he sees me," thought Tom, andhe boldly returned the glance of the stranger.
The bolts were ready when the inventor's son called at the machineshop a second time, and making a package of them Tom fastened it tothe saddle of his bicycle. He started for home at a fast pace, andwas just turning from a cross road into the main highway when he sawahead of him a woman driving a light wagon. As the sun flashed onTom's shining wheel the horse gave a sudden leap, swerved to oneside, and then bolted down the dusty stretch, the woman screaming atthe top of her voice.
"A runaway!" cried Tom; "and partly my fault, too!"
Waiting not an instant the lad bent over his handle-bars and pedaledwith all his force. His bicycle seemed fairly to leap forward afterthe galloping horse.
"Sit still! Don't jump out! Don't jump!" yelled the young inventor."I'll try to catch him!" for the woman was standing up in front ofthe seat and leaning forward, as if about to leap from the wagon.
"She's lost her head," thought Tom. "No wonder! That's a skittishhorse."
Faster and faster he rode, bending all his energies to overtake theanimal. The wagon was swaying from side to side, and more than oncethe woman just saved herself from being thrown out by grasping theedge of the seat. She found that her standing position was adangerous one and crouched on the bottom of the swaying vehicle.
"That's better!" shouted Tom, but it is doubtful if she heard him,for the rattling of the wagon and the hoofbeats of the horse drownedall other sounds. "Sit still!" he shouted. "I'll stop the horse foryou!"
Trying to imagine himself in a desperate race, in order to excitehimself to greater speed, Tom continued on. He was now even with thetail-board of the wagon, and slowly creeping up. The woman was allhuddled up in a lump.
"Grab the reins! Grab the reins!" shouted Tom. "Saw on the bit! Thatwill stop him!"
The occupant of the wagon turned to look at the lad. Tom saw thatshe was a handsome young lady. "Grab the reins!" he cried again."Pull hard!"
"I--I can't!" she answered frightenedly. "They have dropped down!Oh, do please stop the horse! I'm so--so frightened!"
"I'll stop him!" declared the youth firmly, and he set his teethhard. Then he saw the reason the fair driver could not grasp thelines. They had slipped over the dashboard and were trailing on theground.
The horse was slacking speed a bit now, for the pace was telling onhis wind. Tom saw his opportunity, and with a sudden burst of energywas at the animal's head. Steering his wheel with one hand, with theother the lad made a grab for the reins near the bit. The horseswerved frightenedly to one side, but Tom swung in the samedirection. He grasped the leather and then, with a kick, he freedhimself from the bicycle, giving it a shove to one side. He was nowclinging to the reins with both hands, and, being a muscular lad andno lightweight, his bulk told.
"Sit--still!" panted our hero to the young woman, who had arisen tothe seat. "I'll have him stopped in half a minute now!"
It was in less time than that, for the horse, finding it impossibleto shake off the grip of Tom, began to slow from a gallop to a trot,then to a canter, and finally to a slow walk. A moment later thehorse had stopped, breathing heavily from his run.
"There, there, now!" spoke Tom soothingly. "You're all right, oldfellow. I hope you're not hurt"--this to the young lady--and Tommade a motion to raise his cap, only to find that it had blown off.
"Oh, no--no; I'm more frightened than hurt."
"It was all my fault," declared the young inventor. "I should nothave swung into the road so suddenly. My bicycle alarmed yourhorse."
"Oh, I fancy Dobbin is easily disturbed," admitted the fair driver."I can't thank you enough for stopping him. You saved me from a badaccident."
"It was the least I could do. Are you all right now?" and he handedup the dangling reins. "I think Dobbin, as you call him, has hadenough of running," went on Tom, for the horse was now quiet.
"I hope so. Yes, I am all right. I trust your wheel is not damaged.If it is, my father, Mr. Amos Nestor, of Mansburg, will gladly payfor its repair."
This reminded the young inventor of his bicycle, and making surethat the horse would not start up again, he went to where his wheeland his cap lay. He found that the only damage to the bicycle was afew bent spokes, and, straightening them and having again apologizedto the young woman, receiving in turn her pardon and thanks, andlearning that her name was Mary Nestor, Tom once more resumed histrip. The wagon followed him at a distance, the horse evincing nodesire now to get out of a slow amble.
"Well, things are certainly happening to me to-day," mused Tom as hepedaled on. "That might have been a serious runaway if there'd beenanything in the road."
Tom did not stop to think that he had been mainly instrumental inpreventing a bad accident, as he had been the innocent cause ofstarting the runaway, but Tom was ever a modest lad. His arms werewrenched from jerking on the bridle, but he did not mind that much,and bent over the handle-bars to make up for lost time.
Our hero was within a short distance of his house and was coastingeasily along when, just ahead of him, he saw a cloud of dust, verysimilar to the one that had, some time before, concealed theinexperienced motor-cyclist.
"I wonder if that's him again?" thought Tom. "If it is I'm going tohang back until I see which way he's headed. No use running any morerisks."
Almost at that moment a puff of wind blew some of the dust to oneside. Tom had a glimpse of the man on the puffing machine.
"It's the same chap!" he exclaimed aloud; "and he's going the sameway I am. Well, I'll not try to catch up to him. I wonder what he'sbeen doing all this while, that he hasn't gotten any farther thanthis? Either he's been riding back and forth, or else he's beenresting. My, but he certainly is scooting along!"
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. Therider was almost in front of Tom's house now, when, with asuddenness that caused the lad to utter an exclamation of alarm, thestranger turned his machine right toward a big oak tree.
"What's he up to?" cried Tom excitedly. "Does he think he can climbthat, or is he giving an exhibition by showing how close he can comeand 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 tothe ditch along the road, and falling over on one side the motorraced 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 bendingforward, he raced toward the scene of the accident.
Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle; Or, Fun and Adventures on the Road Page 3
