"Why, I'm outdoors!" he exclaimed. Then in a flash it all came back to him—how he had gone to wait under the church shed until the rain was over.
"I fell asleep, and now it's night," the youth went on. "No wonder I am sore and stiff. And that chloroform" He could not account for that, and he paused, puzzled once more. Then he struggled to a sitting position. His head was strangely dizzy, but he persisted, and got to his feet. He could see nothing, and groped around in the dark, until he thought to strike a match. Fortunately he had a number in his pocket. As the little flame flared up Tom started in surprise.
"This isn't the church shed!" he exclaimed. It's much smaller! I'm in a different place! Great Scott! but what has happened to me?"
The match burned Tom's fingers and he dropped it. The darkness closed in once more, but Tom was used to it by this time, and looking ahead of him he could make out that the shed was an open one, similar to the one where he had taken shelter. He could see the sky studded with stars, and could feel the cold night wind blowing in.
"My motor-cycle!" he exclaimed in alarm. "The model of dad's invention—the papers!"
Our hero thrust his hand into his pocket. The
