gh the hole in the shed to make sure
they were not observed, went out, carrying Tom, who was no light
load. Morse followed them, pushing the motor-cycle, and carrying
under one arm the bundle containing the valuable model, which he had
detached.

"I think this is the time we get ahead of Mr. Swift," murmured
Morse, pulling his black mustache, when he and his companions had
reached the car in the field. "We have just what we want now."

"Yes, but we had hard enough work getting it," observed Appleson.
"Only by luck we saw this lad come in here, or we would have had to
chase all over for him, and maybe then we would have missed him.
Hurry, Simpson--I mean Featherton. It's getting late, and we've got
lots to do."

The chauffeur sprang to his seat, Appleson taking his place beside
him. The motor-cycle was tied on behind the big touring car, and
with the unconscious form of Tom in the tonneau, beside Morse, who
stroked his mustache nervously, the auto started off. The storm had
passed, and the sun was shining brightly, but Tom could not see it.

CHAPTER XV.

A VAIN SEARCH

Several hours later Tom had a curious dream. He imagined he was
wandering about in the polar regions, and that it was very cold. He
was trying to reason with himself that he could not possibly be on
an expedition searching for the North Pole, still he felt such a
keen wind blowing over his scantily-covered body that he shivered.
He shivered so hard, in fact, that he shivered himself awake, and
when he tried to pierce the darkness that enveloped him he was
startled, for a moment, with the idea that perhaps, after all, he
had wandered off to some unknown country.

For it was quite dark and cold. He was in a daze, and there was a
curious smell about him--an odor that he tried to recall. Then, all
at once, it came to him what it was--chloroform. Once his father had
undergone an operation, and to deaden his pain chloroform had been
used.

"I've been chloroformed!" exclaimed the young inventor, and his
words sounded strange in his ears. "That's it. I've met with an
accident riding my motor-cycle. I must have hit my head, for it
hurts fearful. They picked me up, carried me to a hospital and have
operated on me. I wonder if they took off an arm or leg? I wonder
what hospital I'm in? Why is it so dark and cold?"

As he asked himself these questions his brain gradually cleared from
the haze caused by the cowardly blow, and from the chloroform th