"But don't worry, Tom. You'll be
all right in a few days. You got a bad cut on the head, but the skull
isn't fractured, I'm glad to say. Here, now, just drink this," and he
gave Tom some medicine he had mixed in a glass.
The cut was soon dressed, and Tom felt much better, though weak and a
trifle dizzy.
"Did he hit me with the hatchet?" he asked Mr. Jackson.
"I couldn't tell," was the engineer's reply, "it all happened so
quickly. In another instant I'd have bowled him over, instead of him
landing on you, but I just missed him. He either used the hatchet, or
some blunt instrument."
"Well, don't talk about it now," urged the doctor. "I want Tom to get
quiet and go to sleep. We'll be much better in the morning, but I must
forbid any aeroplane flights." And he shook his finger at Tom in
warning. "You'll have to lie quiet for several days," he added.
"All right," agreed the young inventor weakly, and then he dozed off,
for the physician had given him a quieting medicine.
"Haven't you any idea who it was?" asked Dr.
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