Bud and Sandy ran up. “It’s Tom!” cried Bud. “He’s in the ditch!”
“Oh!” Sandy took one look at her brother’s still form, sprawled face down, and gulped. Was he-?
Bud felt his friend’s pulse. “He’s still alive, Sandy!” He checked for broken bones. Finding none, he lifted Tom gently and carried him to a grassy rise.
“Oh, look at those cuts and that swelling on his head!” said Sandy, horrified.
She dipped her handkerchief in a nearby stream and held it against Tom’s forehead. In a few minutes the young inventor stirred and blinked.
“Oh-h-h! The crow! It’s-it’s after me. Can’t-”
“Wake up, Tom! It’s Bud. I’m no crow.”
Tom shook his head to clear his vision. Then he opened his eyes wide.
“What-Sandy, Bud, where did you come from?” he mumbled. “And where am I?”
“The bloodhounds found you here,” Sandy explained. “When you didn’t show up at the plant, we became worried and started a search. What happened, Tom?”
Her brother related the attack by the crow.
“What!” his listeners cried unbelievingly, and 92 TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT ROBOT
Sandy added, “You’re very lucky, Tom. If that crow hadn’t leveled off after its dive, you might not be alive now and talking to us.”
“I guess you’re right.” Tom grinned weakly.
“I’d like to bet,” said Bud, “that whoever sent it probably thought the bird had killed you.”
“No doubt,” Tom groaned, clutching his head.
“We must get you home at once, Tom,” said Sandy. “We can talk later.”
While Tom was at home recuperating that day, George Billing and Bud, incensed at this attempt on their friend’s life, set out to scour the countryside.