"Look out!" cried Tom. "You'll smash into me!"
"I'm—I'm—try—ing—not—to!" were the words that were rattled out of the middle-aged man.
Tom gave his wheel a desperate twist to get out of the way. The motor-cyclist tried to do the same, but the machine he was on appeared to want matters its own way. He came straight for Tom, and a disastrous collision might have resulted had not another stone been in the way. The front wheel hit this, and was swerved to one side. The motor-cycle flashed past Tom, just grazing his wheel, and then was lost to sight beyond in a cloud of dust that seemed to follow it like a halo.
"Why don't you learn to ride before you come out on the road!" cried Tom somewhat angrily.
Like an echo from the dust-cloud came floating back these words:
"I'm—try—ing—to!" Then the sound of the explosions became fainter.
"Well, he's got lots to learn yet!" exclaimed Tom. "That's twice to-day I've nearly been run down. I expect I'd better look out for the third time. They say that's always fatal," and the lad leaped from his wheel. "Wonder if he bent any of my spokes?" the young inventor continued as he inspected his bicycle.
