Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle; Or, Fun and Adventures on the Road

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER VIII.

  SUSPICIOUS ACTIONS

  "Are you hurt?" asked Tom as he leaned his motor-cycle against thefence and stood beside the negro.

  "Hurt?" repeated the darky. "I'se killed, dat's what I is! I ain'tgot a whole bone in mah body! Good landy, but I suttinly am in aawful state! Would yo' mind tellin' me if dat ar' mule am stillalive?"

  "Of course he is," answered Tom. "He isn't hurt a bit. But why can'tyou turn around and look for yourself?"

  "No, sah! No, indeedy, sah!" replied the colored man. "Yo' doan'tcatch dis yeah nigger lookin' around!"

  "Why not?"

  "Why not? 'Cause I'll tell yo' why not. I'm so stiff an' I'm sonearly broke t' pieces, dat if I turn mah head around it suah willtwist offen mah body. No, sah! No, indeedy, sah, I ain't gwine t'turn 'round. But am yo' suah dat mah mule Boomerang ain't hurted?"

  "No, he's not hurt a bit, and I'm sure you are not. I didn't strikeyou hard, for I had almost stopped my machine. Try to get up. I'mpositive you'll find yourself all right. I'm sorry it happened."

  "Oh, dat's all right. Doan't mind me," went on the colored man. "Itwas mah fault fer gittin in de road. But dat mule Boomerang amsuttinly de most outrageous quadruped dat ever circumlocuted."

  "Why do you call him Boomerang?" asked Tom, wondering if the negroreally was hurt.

  "What fo' I call him Boomerang? Did yo' eber see dem Australianblack mans what go around wid a circus t'row dem crooked sticks deycalls boomerangs?"

  "Yes, I've seen them."

  "Well, Boomerang, mah mule, am jest laik dat. He's crooked, t' beginwid, an' anudder t'ing, yo' can't never tell when yo' start him wharhe's gwine t' land up. Dat's why I calls him Boomerang."

  "I see. It's a very proper name. But why don't you try to get up?"

  "Does yo' t'ink I can?"

  "Sure. Try it. By the way, what's your name?"

  "My name? Why I was christened Eradicate Andrew Jackson AbrahamLincoln Sampson, but folks most ginnerally calls me EradicateSampson, an' some doan't eben go to dat length. Dey jest calls meRad, fo' short."

  "Eradicate," mused Tom. "That's a queer name, too. Why were youcalled that?"

  "Well, yo' see I eradicates de dirt. I'm a cleaner an' a whitewasherby profession, an' somebody gib me dat name. Dey said it were fittenan' proper, an' I kept it eber sence. Yais, sah, I'se EradicateSampson, at yo' service. Yo' ain't got no chicken coops yo' wantscleaned out, has yo'? Or any stables or fences t' whitewash? Iguarantees satisfaction."

  "Well, I might find some work for you to do," replied the younginventor, thinking this would be as good a means as any of placatingthe darky. "But come, now, try and see if you can't stand. I don'tbelieve I broke any of your legs."

  "I guess not. I feels better now. Where am dat work yo' was speakin'ob?" and Eradicate Sampson, now that there seemed to be a prospectof earning money, rose quickly and easily.

  "Why, you're all right!" exclaimed Tom, glad to find that theaccident had had no serious consequences.

  "Yais, sah, I guess I be. Whar did yo' say, yo' had somewhitewashin' t' do?"

  "No place in particular, but there is always something that needsdoing at our house. If you call I'll give you a job."

  "Yais, sah, I'll be sure to call," and Eradicate walked back towhere Boomerang was patiently waiting.

  Tom told the colored man how to find the Swift home, and wasdebating with himself whether he ought not to offer Eradicate somemoney as compensation for knocking him into the air, when he noticedthat the negro was tying one wheel of his wagon fast to the body ofthe vehicle with a rope.

  "What are you doing that for?" asked Tom.

  "Got to, t' git downhill wid dis load ob fence posts," was theanswer. "Ef I didn't it would be right on to de heels ob Boomerang,an' wheneber he feels anyt'ing on his heels he does act wuss dan acircus mule."

  "But why don't you use your brake? I see you have one on the wagon.Use the brake to hold back going downhill."

  "'Scuse me, Mistah Swift, 'scuse me!" exclaimed Eradicate quickly."But yo' doan't know dat brake. It's wuss dan none at all. It doan'twork, fer a fact. No, indeedy, sah. I'se got to rope de wheel."

  Tom was interested at once. He made an examination of the brake, andsoon saw why it would not hold the wheels. The foot lever was notproperly connected with the brake bar. It was a simple matter toadjust it by changing a single bolt, and this Tom did with tools hetook from the bag on his motor-cycle. The colored man looked on inopen-mouthed amazement, and even Boomerang peered lazily around, asif taking an interest in the proceedings.

  "There," said Tom at length, as he tightened the nut. "That brakewill work now, and hold the wagon on any hill. You won't need torope the wheel. You didn't have the right leverage on it."

  "'Scuse me, Mistah Swift, but what's dat yo' said?" and Eradicateleaned forward to listen deferentially.

  "I said you didn't have the right leverage."

  "No, sah, Mistah Swift, 'scuse me, but yo' made a slight mistake. Iain't never had no liverage on dis yeah wagon. It ain't dat kind oba wagon. I onct drove a livery rig, but dat were some years ago. Iain't worked fo' de livery stable in some time now. Dat's why I knowdere ain't no livery on dis wagon. Yo'll 'scuse me, but yo' amslightly mistaken."

  "All right," rejoined Tom with a laugh, not thinking it worth whileto explain what he meant by the lever force of the brake rod. "Letit go at that. Livery or no livery, your brake will work now. Iguess you're all right. Now don't forget to come around and do somewhitewashing," and seeing that the colored man was able to mount tothe seat and start off Boomerang, who seemed to have deep-rootedobjections about moving, Tom wheeled his motor-cycle back to theroad.

  Eradicate Sampson drove his wagon a short distance and then suddenlyapplied the brake. It stopped short, and the mule looked around asif surprised.

  "It suah do work, Mistah Swift!" called the darky to Tom, who waswaiting the result of his little repair job. "It suah do work!"

  "I'm glad of it."

  "Mah golly! But yo' am suttinly a conjure-man when it comes t'fixin' wagons! Did yo' eber work fer a blacksmith?"

  "No, not exactly. Well, good-by, Eradicate. I'll look for you someday next week."

  With that Tom leaped on his machine and speeded off ahead of thecolored man and his rig. As he passed the load of fence posts theyouth heard Eradicate remark in awestricken tones:

  "Mah golly! He suttinly go laik de wind! An' t' t'ink dat I were hitby dat monstrousness machine, an' not hurted! Mah golly! T'ings amsuttinly happenin'! G'lang, Boomerang!"

  "This machine has more possibilities in it than I suspected," musedTom. "But one thing I've got to change, and that is the gasolene andspark controls. I don't like them the way they are. I want a betterleverage, just as Eradicate needed on his wagon. I'll fix them, too,when I get home."

  He rode for several hours, until he thought it was about dinnertime, and then, heading the machine toward home, he put on all thespeed possible, soon arriving where his father was at work in theshop.

  "Well, how goes it?" asked Mr. Swift with a smile as he looked atthe flushed face of his son.

  "Fine, dad! I scooted along in great shape. Had an adventure, too."

  "You didn't meet any more of those men, did you? The men who aretrying to get my invention?" asked Mr. Swift apprehensively.

  "No, indeed, dad. I simply had a little run-in with a chap namedEradicate Andrew Jackson Abraham Lincoln Sampson, otherwise known asRad Sampson, and I engaged him to do some whitewashing for us. We doneed some white washing done, don't we, dad?"

  "What's that?" asked Mr. Swift, thinking his son was joking.

  Then Tom told of the happening.

  "Yes, I think I can find some work for Eradicate to do," went on Mr.Swift. "There is some dirt in the boiler shop that needseradicating, and I think he can do it. But dinner has been waitingsome time. We'll go in now, or Mrs. Baggert will be out after us."

  Father and son were soon at the table, and Tom was explaining whathe meant to do to
improve his motor-cycle. His father offered somesuggestions regarding the placing of the gasolene lever.

  "I'd put it here," he said, and with his pencil he began to draw adiagram on the white table cloth.

  "Oh, my goodness me, Mr. Swift!" exclaimed Mrs. Baggert. "Whateverare you doing?" and she sprang up in some alarm.

  "What's the matter? Did I upset my tea?" asked the inventorinnocently.

  "No; but you are soiling a clean tablecloth. Pencil-marks are sohard to get out. Take a piece of paper, please."

  "Oh, is that all?" rejoined Mr. Swift with a smile. "Well, Tom, hereis the way I would do that," and substituting the back of anenvelope for the tablecloth, he continued the drawing.

  Tom was looking over his father's shoulder interestedly, when Mrs.Baggert, who was taking off some of the dinner dishes, suddenlyasked:

  "Are you expecting a visitor, Mr. Swift?"

  "A visitor? No. Why?" asked the inventor quickly.

  "Because I just saw a man going in the machine shop," went on thehousekeeper.

  "A man! In the machine shop!" exclaimed Tom, rising from his chair.Mr. Swift also got up, and the two hurried from the house. As theyreached the yard they saw a man emerging from the building where Mr.Swift was constructing his turbine motor. The man had his backturned toward them and seemed to be sneaking around, as thoughdesirous of escaping observation.

  "What do you want?" called Mr. Swift.

  The man turned quickly. At the sight of Mr. Swift and Tom he made ajump to one side and got behind a big packing-box.

  "That's queer," spoke Tom. "I wonder what he wants?"

  "I'll soon see," rejoined Mr. Swift, and he started on a run towardwhere the man was hiding. Tom followed his father, and as the twoinventors reached the box the man sprang from behind it and down theyard to a lane that passed in back of the Swift house. As he ran hewas seen to stuff some papers in his pocket.

  "My plans! He's stolen some of my plans!" cried Mr. Swift. "Catchhim, Tom!"

  Tom ran after the stranger, whose curious actions had roused theirsuspicions, while Mr. Swift entered the motor shop to ascertainwhether anything had been stolen.