Chapter 16 Tom Swift and His Sky Train by Victor Appleton
STRANGE WORDS
“Look here, Doctor!” Tom exclaimed, startled more than he cared to admit by the surgeon’s words. “Do you mean that the boy, by running into my car, is going blind, soon, as a result?”
“Oh, no, not at all, Mr. Swift. This eye trouble is of some time standing. The child has defective vision and has had for some time. He probably didn’t clearly see your car, which is the reason he ran into it. I can’t understand why his parents haven’t had something done about his eyes. An operation is necessary and should be performed soon.”
“Is it a dangerous operation?” Mary asked.
“Not necessarily so. All operations are more or less dangerous,” and the surgeon smiled as any good workman might in speaking about his calling. “But in this case it is one that has often been performed and with almost uniformly good and successful results. But little time should be lost. You say he isn’t your boy?”
“And I don’t even know who his folks are,” Tom answered. “But I’ll go right back and find out. I suppose he’ll have to stay here?”
“Well, for a little while, yes, to recover from the shock. His injuries really amount to nothing. It is his eyesight I am most interested in. Blindness is a terrible affliction.”
“Oh, terrible!” Mary murmured. “We must do something about this, Tom.”
“Of course!” agreed her husband. “Well, Doctor, I’ll leave the boy with you and cut back to see if I can locate where he lives and who his folks are. I’ll bring them here to take charge of him. And I’ll tell them about his eyes. Then—after that—well, we’ll see.”
An understanding look passed between Mary and Tom.
“Suppose you let me stay here with the little fellow,” Mary proposed. “He may feel strange among the nurses and doctors. I’ll wait here with him until you locate his parents.”
“Good idea,” agreed Tom, and he hurried back to his car. He was soon at the scene of the recent little accident, and he rather expected to find a curious crowd about the place. But the only person he saw was an elderly woman who came out of one of the houses on the main street adjoining the lane.
“Do you know where a little boy, dressed in red knickers and a black blouse lives?” asked Tom.
“Why, that must be Davy Daniel!” the woman exclaimed. “He often stops in to speak to me, poor little chap! He’s always dressed in bright colors.”
“Is Davy any relative of yours?” asked Tom.
“Oh, no, sir! He lives in the street back of me—you can get to his house through that lane,” and she pointed. “His father is some sort of an aviator.”
“An aviator?” repeated Tom, his mind working rapidly, since he had heard the name “Daniel.”
“Yes,” went on the woman. “He makes airships, flies in ’em and jumps out with a big, white umbrella—at least so his wife says. I’ve never seen him do it, as I don’t go in much for that sort of thing. I guess I’m too old. But I know Davy well—poor little chap!”
“Poor little chap,” repeated Tom. “Why do you call him that?”
“It’s on account of his eyes, sir. He can’t see very well—he’s always stumbling and falling when he comes in my place, so I’m generally on the lookout for him.”
“If his eyes are bad, why don’t his folks have them attended to?” asked Tom, glad that he had, thus easily, located the home of the boy.
“Too poor, I guess,” was the old woman’s answer. “Most of us about here are poor, sir. It’s the way of the world. But why are you inquiring about Davy? Has anything happened?” Her trembling hands went to her trembling lips.
“He was in a little accident with my car,” Tom said easily. “Oh, he isn’t really hurt at all—only scratched. He’s in the hospital, and ready to come home. But I must find his folks.”
“Go right down that lane, sir, and turn to the left. It’s the first house you come to. Oh, poor little Davy!”
Tom hurried along the lane, intending to break the news to the parents, but half way there thought better of it.
“I’ll go back to the hospital and get Mary and the kid,” Tom reasoned. “If they see him alive, and with only a couple of scratches, it will be better proof that nothing much happened, than if I tell them. They may get wild when I blurt out the news. A sight of the boy himself will be much better. I only hope the old woman doesn’t talk. I shouldn’t have told her. But I’ll have to risk that now.”
Tom hurried back to his car, speeded to the hospital and quickly told Mary and the doctor that he had located the boy’s home.
“Then we must take him there at once!” Mary said.
“Sure!” Tom agreed. “Come on! How you feeling, Davy?” he asked.
“Oh, not so bad,” the little fellow bravely answered. He seemed uncertain where to look—it was obvious, now, that his eyes were in bad shape though, outwardly, they showed nothing to the casual observer. With the exception of a little bandage on his head, there was no indication of his injury by Tom’s auto.
Stopping at the corner of the lane, Tom was about to lift Davy from Mary’s arms, where he had ridden contentedly, when an excited man, followed by a woman who, plainly, had been weeping, ran out of the lane and stopped at the car. One glance showed Tom the man was his new assistant—Davis Daniel.
“What have you done to my boy?” Daniel cried. “Give him to me!”
He fairly snatched the little fellow from Tom’s arms.
“Go easy, Daniel!” said the young inventor, calmly. “He isn’t much hurt, but don’t excite him. He ran into my car—it was an unavoidable accident.”
“Ran into your car! You mean you ran over him!” Daniel cried, wildly.
“No,” said Tom, gently, and calmly, “he ran into me. You may ask my wife about it.”
“Indeed, that is the way it happened,” Mary murmured. “And I assure you that Davy is not badly hurt. He made friends with me on the way from the hospital. We thought it best to take him there first to have him looked over. We really didn’t know where he lived.”
She was speaking to the mother now. Daniel had his little son in his arms and was kissing and fondling him until his wife took Davy on her own shoulder. Her tears fell, but she soon dried them as she saw her little son smile and she realized the accident was but a trifle.
Daniel, however, did not seem to sense this. His face was red with anger as, turning from a glance at his son in the mother’s arms he faced Tom and cried:
“So you’re responsible for this, too! As if what you have already done isn’t enough, you try to kill my boy! But I—I’ll make you——”
“Davis! Davis!” his wife murmured, putting a hand on his arm. “Don’t talk like that! Davy isn’t killed. He’s all right—see! Here, take him into the house,” and she put the boy in his father’s arms and gently pushed him along the lane. “Take him home,” she urged. “I will be right in.”
Daniel, carrying his son, muttered something incoherent that Tom could not catch. Mary was plainly distressed by the man’s words and actions, and Tom could not understand them.
“Please don’t mind him, Mr. Swift,” said Mrs. Daniel. “Davis doesn’t quite know what he is saying. He has been under a great strain of late and at times acts queer. You see Davy is all we have and he—he isn’t at all well. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault that he was hurt. We try to watch him carefully, but this evening he got away. We didn’t know he went down the lane. It was some time before we missed him, and then, when Mrs. Kalthen said a man spoke of Davy being in the hospital—well, I’m sure you’ll understand what a fright it gave us.”
“It must have,” Mary agreed.
“We were hurrying to the hospital when you came along,” Mrs. Daniel resumed. “I’m glad it was no worse. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Davy will be all right—I mean all right as far as this accident is concerned—and you mustn’t mind what my husband said. I’ll have to go, now. Good-bye!”
She hurried away, drying her eyes, leaving Mary and Tom standing in the lane.
“Well,” said Tom, after a pause, “I’m glad that’s over. But I must look this thing up. I’ll see Daniel at the shop tomorrow. I want to know what he meant by what he said.”
“What did he say?” asked Mary. “What do you mean? Naturally he was excited, but——”
“I mean what he said in reference to my being responsible for this, too. And about what I had already done. Strange words,” Tom murmured. “Strange words!”