Then he thought of the electric lights, which were run
by a storage battery when the dynamo was shut down, and a moment later
the engineer had switched on the incandescents, filling the big shed
with radiance.
"Tom, are you badly hurt?" gasped Mr. Jackson.
There was no answer, for Tom was unconscious.
"Let me in! Let me git at dat robber wif mah club!" cried the colored
man eagerly.
Knowing that he would need help in carrying Tom to the house, Mr.
Jackson hurried to the back door. He had a key to it, and it was quicker
to open it than to send Eradicate away around the shed to the front
portals.
"Whar am he?" gasped the faithful darky, as he took a firmer grasp of
his club and looked around the place. "Let me git mah hands on him! I'll
feed him t' Boomerang, when I gits froo wif him!"
"He's gone," said the engineer. "Help me look after Tom. I'm afraid he's
badly hurt."
They hastened to the unconscious lad. On one side of his head was a bad
cut, which was bleeding freely.
"Oh! he's daid! I know he's daid!" wailed Eradicate.
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