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TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

or

The rag dolls for boysQuickest Flight on Record

By

VICTOR APPLETON

CONTENTS

TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

Chapter One

The Prize Offer

"Is this Tom Swift, the inventor of several airships?"

The man who had rung the bell glanced at the youth who answered hissummons.

"Yes, I'm Tom Swift," was the reply. "Did you wish to see me?"

"I do. I'm Mr. James Gunmore, secretary of the Eagle Park AviationAssociation. I had some correspondence with you about a prize contestwe are going to hold. I believe—"

"Oh, yes, I remember now," and the young inventor smiled pleasantly ashe opened wider the door of his home. "Won't you come in? My fatherwill be glad to see you. He is as much interested in airships as I am."And Tom led the way to the library, where the secretary of the aviationsociety was soon seated in a big, comfortable leather chair.

"I thought we could do better, and perhaps come to some decision morequickly, if I came to see you, than if we corresponded," went on Mr.Gunmore. "I hope I haven't disturbed you at any of your inventions,"and the secretary smiled at the youth.

"No. I'm through for to-day," replied Tom. "I'm glad to see you. Ithought at first it was my chum, Ned Newton. He generally runs over inthe evening."

"Our society, as I wrote you, Mr. Swift, is planning to hold a verylarge and important aviation meet at Eagle Park, which is a suburb ofWestville, New York State. We expect to have all the prominent'bird-men' there, to compete for prizes, and your name was mentioned. Iwrote to you, as you doubtless recall, asking if you did not care toenter."

"And I think I wrote you that my big aeroplane-dirigible, the RedCloud, was destroyed in Alaska, during a recent trip we made to thecaves of ice there, after gold," replied Tom.

"Yes, you did," admitted Mr. Gunmore, "and while our committee was verysorry to hear that, we hoped you might have some other air craft thatyou could enter at our meet. We want to make it as complete aspossible, and we all feel that it would not be so unless we had a Swiftaeroplane there."

"It's very kind of you to say so," remarked Tom, "but since my bigcraft was destroyed I really have nothing I could enter."

"Haven't you an aeroplane of any kind? I made this trip especially toget you to enter. Haven't you anything in which you could compete forthe prizes? There are several to be offered, some for distance flights,some for altitude, and the largest, ten thousand dollars, for thespeediest craft. Ten thousand dollars is the grand prize, to be awardedfor the quickest flight on record."

"I surely would like to try for that," said Tom, "but the only craft Ihave is a small monoplane, the Butterfly, I call it, and while it isvery speedy, there have been such advances made in aeroplaneconstruction since I made mine that I fear I would be distanced if Iraced in her. And I wouldn't like that."

"No," agreed Mr. Gunmore. "I suppose not. Still, I do wish we couldinduce you to enter. I don't mind telling you that we consider you adrawing-card. Can't we induce you, some way?"

"I'm afraid not. I haven't any machine which—"

"Look here!" exclaimed the secretary eagerly. "Why can't you build aspecial aeroplane to enter in the next meet? You'll have plenty oftime, as it doesn't come off for three months yet. We are only makingthe preliminary arrangements. It is now June, and the meet is scheduledfor early in September. Couldn't you build a new and speedy aeroplanein that time?"

Eagerly Mr. Gunmore waited for the answer. Tom Swift seemed to beconsidering it. There was an increased brightness to his eyes, and onecould tell that he was thinking deeply. The secretary sought to clinchhis argument.

"I believe, from what I have heard of your work in the past, that youcould build an aeroplane which would win the ten-thousand-dollarprize," he went on. "I would be very glad if you did win it, and, so Ithink, would be the gentlemen associated with me in this enterprise. Itwould be fine to have a New York State youth win the grand prize. Come,Tom Swift, build a special craft, and enter the contest!"

As he paused for an answer footsteps were heard coming along the hall,and a moment later an aged gentleman opened the door of the library.

"Oh! Excuse me, Tom," he said, "I didn't know you had company." And hewas about to withdraw.

"Don't go, father," said Tom. "You will be as much interested in thisas I am. This is Mr. Gunmore, of the Eagle Park Aviation Association.This is my father, Mr. Gunmore."

"I've heard of you," spoke the secretary as he shook hands with theaged inventor. "You and your son have made, in aeronautics, a name tobe proud of."

"And he wants us to go still farther, dad," broke in the youth. "Hewants me to build a specially speedy aeroplane, and race for tenthousand dollars."

"Hum!" mused Mr. Swift. "Well, are you going to do it, Tom? Seems to meyou ought to take a rest. You haven't been back from your gold-huntingtrip to Alaska long enough to more than catch your breath, and now—"

"Oh, he doesn't have to go in this right away," eagerly explained Mr.Gunmore. "There is plenty of time to make a new craft."

"Well, Tom can do as he likes about it," said his father. "Do you thinkyou could build anything speedier than your Butterfly, son?"

"I think so, father. That is, if you'd help me. I have a plan partlythought out, but it will take some time to finish it. Still, I mightget it done in time."

"I hope you'll try!" exclaimed the secretary. "May I ask whether itwould be a monoplane or a biplane?"

"A monoplane, I think," answered Tom. "They are much more speedy thanthe double-deckers, and if I'm going to try for the ten thousanddollars I need the fastest machine I can build."

"We have the promise of one or two very fast monoplanes for the meet,"went on Mr. Gunmore. "Would yours be of a new type?"

"I think it would," was the reply of the young inventor. "In fact, I amthinking of making a smaller monoplane than any that have yet beenconstructed, and yet one that will carry two persons. The hardest workwill be to make the engine light enough and still have it sufficientlypowerful to make over a hundred miles an hour, if necessary.

"A hundred miles an hour in a small monoplane! It isn't possible!"cried the secretary.

"I'll make better time than that," said Tom quietly, and with not atrace of boasting in his tones.

"Then you'll enter the meet?" asked Mr. Gunmore eagerly.

"Well, I'll think about it," promised Tom. "I'll let you know in a fewdays. Meanwhile, I'll be thinking out the details for my new craft. Ihave been going to build one ever since I got back, after having seenmy Red Cloud crushed in the ice cave. Now I think I had better beginactive work."

"I hope you will soon let me know," resumed the secretary. "I'm goingto put you down as a possible contestant for the ten-thousand-dollarprize. That can do no harm, and I hope you win it. I trust—"

He paused suddenly, and listened. So did Tom Swift and his father, forthey all distinctly heard stealthy footsteps under the open windows ofthe library.

"Some one is out there, listening," said Tom in low tones.

"Perhaps it's Eradicate Sampson," suggested Mr. Swift, referring to theeccentric colored man who was employed by the inventor and his son tohelp around the place. "Very likely it was Eradicate, Tom."

"I don't think so," was the lad's answer. "He went to the village awhile ago, and said he wouldn't be back until late to-night. He had toget some medicine for his mule, Boomerang, who is sick. No, it wasn'tEradicate; but some one was under that window, trying to hear what wesaid."

As he spoke in guarded tones, Tom went softly to the casement andlooked out. He could observe nothing, as the night was dark, and thenew moon, which had been shining, was now dimmed by clouds.

"See anything?" asked Mr. Gunmore as he advanced to Tom's side.

"No," was the low answer. "I can't hear anything now, either."

"I'll go speak to Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper," volunteered Mr.Swift. "Perhaps it was she, or she may know something about it."

He started from the room, and as he went Tom noticed, with something ofa start, that his father appeared older that night than he had everlooked before. There was a trace of pain on the face of the agedinventor, and his step was lagging.

"I guess dad needs a rest and doctoring up," thought the young inventoras he turned the electric chandelier off by a button on the wall, inorder to darken the room, so that he might peer out to betteradvantage. "I think he's been working too hard on his wireless motor.I must get Dr. Gladby to come over and see dad. But now I want to findout who that was under this window."

Once more Tom looked out. The moon had emerged from behind a thin bankof clouds, and gave a little light.

"See anything?" asked Mr. Gunmore cautiously.

"No," whispered the youth, for it being a warm might, the windows wereopen top and bottom, a screen on the outside keeping out mosquitoes andother insects. "I can't see a thing," went on Tom, "but I'm sure—"

He paused suddenly. As he spoke there sounded a rustling in theshrubbery a little distance from the window.

"There's something!" exclaimed Mr. Gunmore.

"I see!" answered the young inventor.

Without another word he softly opened the screen, and then, stoopingdown to get under the lower sash (for the windows in the library ranall the way to the floor), Tom dropped out of the casement upon thethick grass.

As he did so he was aware of a further movement in the bushes. Theywere violently agitated, and a second later a dark object sprang fromthem and sprinted along the path.

"Here! Who are you? Hold on!" cried the young inventor.

But the figure never halted. Tom sprang forward, determined to see whoit was, and, if possible, capture him.

"Hold on!" he cried again. There was no answer.

Tom was a good runner, and in a few seconds he had gained on thefugitive, who could just be seen in the dim light from the crescentmoon.

"I've got you!" cried Tom.

But he was mistaken, for at that instant his foot caught on theoutcropping root of a tree, and the young inventor went flat on hisface.

"Just my luck!" he cried.

He was quickly on his feet again, and took after the fugitive. Thelatter glanced back, and, as it happened, Tom had a good look at hisface. He almost came to a stop, so startled was he.

"Andy Foger!" he exclaimed as he recognized the bully who had alwaysproved himself such an enemy of our hero. "Andy Foger sneaking under mywindows to hear what I had to say about my new aeroplane! I wonder whathis game can be? I'll soon find out!"

Tom was about to resume the chase, when he lost sight of the figure. Amoment later he heard the puffing of an automobile, as some one crankedit up.

"It's too late!" exclaimed Tom. "There he goes in his car!" And knowingit would be useless to keep up the chase, the youth turned back towardhis house.

Chapter Two

Mr. Swift is Ill

"Who was it?" asked Mr. Gunmore as Tom again entered the library. "Afriend of yours?"

"Hardly a friend," replied Tom grimly. "It was a young fellow who hasmade lots of trouble for me in the past, and who, lately, with hisfather, tried to get ahead of me and some friends of mine in locating agold claim in Alaska. I don't know what he's up to now, but certainlyit wasn't any good. He's got nerve, sneaking up under our windows!"

"What do you think was his object?"

"It would be hard to say."

"Can't you find him to-morrow, and ask him?"

"There's not much satisfaction in that. The less I have to do with AndyFoger the better I'm satisfied. Well, perhaps it's just as well I fell,and couldn't catch him. There would have been a fight, and I don't wantto worry dad any more than I can help. He hasn't been very well oflate."

"No, he doesn't look very strong," agreed the secretary. "But I hope hedoesn't get sick, and I hope no bad consequences result from theeavesdropping of this Foger fellow."

Tom started for the hall, to get a brush with which to remove some ofthe dust gathered in his chase after Andy. As he opened the librarydoor to go out Mr. Swift came in again.

"I saw Mrs. Baggert, Tom," he said. "She wasn't out under the window,and, as you said, Eradicate isn't about. His mule is in the barn, so itcouldn't have been the animal straying around."

"No, dad. It was Andy Foger."

"Andy Foger!"

"Yes. I couldn't catch him. But you'd better go lie down, father. It'sgetting late, and you look tired."

"I am tired, Tom, and I think I'll go to bed. Have you finished yourarrangements with Mr. Gunmore?"

"Well, I guess we've gone as far as we can until I invent the newaeroplane," replied Tom, with a smile.

"Then you'll really enter the meet?" asked the secretary eagerly.

"I think I will," decided Tom. "The prize of ten thousand dollars isworth trying for, and besides that, I'll be glad to get to work againon a speedy craft. Yes, I'll enter the meet."

"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Gunmore, shaking hands with the young inventor."I didn't have my trip for nothing, then. I'll go back in the morningand report to the committee that I've been successful. I am greatlyobliged to you."

He left the Swift home, after refusing Tom's invitation to remain allnight, and went to his hotel. Tom then insisted that his father retire.

As for the young inventor, he was not satisfied with the result of hisattempt to catch Andy Foger. He had no idea why the bully was hidingunder the library window, but Tom surmised that some mischief might beafoot.

"Sam Snedecker or Pete Bailey, the two cronies of Andy, may still bearound here, trying to play some trick on me," mused Tom. "I think I'lltake a look outside." And taking a stout cane from the umbrella rack,the youth sallied forth into the yard and extensive grounds surroundinghis house.

While he is thus looking for possible intruders we will tell you alittle more about him than has been possible since the call of theaviation secretary.

Tom Swift lived with his father, Barton Swift, in the town of Shopton,New York State. The young man had followed in the footsteps of hisparent, and was already an inventor of note.

Their home was presided over by Mrs. Baggert, as housekeeper, sinceMrs. Swift had been dead several years. In addition, there was GarretJackson, an engineer, who aided Tom and his father, and EradicateSampson, an odd colored man, who, with his mule, Boomerang, workedabout the place.

In the first volume of this series, entitled "Tom Swift and hisMotor-Cycle," here was related how he came to possess that machine. Acertain Mr. Wakefield Damon, an eccentric gentleman, who was alwaysblessing himself, or something about him, owned the cycle, but he cameto grief on it, and sold it to Tom very cheaply.

Tom had a number of adventures on the wheel, and, after having used themotor to save a valuable patent model from a gang of unscrupulous men,the lad acquired possession of a power boat, in which he made severaltrips, and took part in many exciting happenings.

Some time later, in company with John Sharp, an aeronaut, whom Tom hadrescued from Lake Carlopa, after the airman had nearly lost his life ina burning balloon, the young inventor made a big airship, called theRed Cloud. With Mr. Damon, Tom made several trips in this craft, as setforth in the book, "Tom Swift and His Airship."

It was after this that Tom and his father built a submarine boat, andwent under the ocean for sunken treasure, and, following that trip Tombuilt a speedy electric runabout, and by a remarkable run in that, withMr. Damon, saved a bank from ruin, bringing gold in time to stave off apanic.

"Tom Swift and His Wireless Message" told of the young inventor's planto save the castaways of Earthquake Island, and how he accomplished itby constructing a wireless plant from the remains of the wreckedairship Whizzer. After Tom got back from Earthquake Island he went withMr. Barcoe Jenks, whom he met on the ill-fated bit of land, to discoverthe secret of the diamond makers. They found the mysterious men, butthe trip was not entirely successful, for the mountain containing thecave where the diamonds were made was destroyed by a lightning shock,just as Mr. Parker, a celebrated scientist, who accompanied the party,said it would be.

But his adventure in seeking to discover the secret of making preciousstones did not satisfy Tom Swift, and when he and his friends got backfrom the mountains they prepared to go to Alaska to search for gold inthe caves of ice. They were almost defeated in their purpose by theactions of Andy Foger and his father, who in an under-hand manner, gotpossession of a valuable map, showing the location of the gold, andmade a copy of the drawing.

Then, when Tom and his friends set off in the Red Cloud, as related in"Tom Swift in the Caves of Ice," the Fogers, in another airship, didlikewise. But Tom and his party were first on the scene, andaccomplished their purpose, though they had to fight the savageIndians. The airship was wrecked in a cave of ice, that collapsed onit, and the survivors had desperate work getting away from the frozenNorth.

Tom had been home all the following winter and spring, and he had donelittle more than work on some small inventions, when a new turn wasgiven his thoughts and energies by a visit from Mr. Gunmore, asnarrated in the first chapter of the present volume.

"Well, I guess no one is here," remarked the young inventor as hecompleted the circuit of the grounds and walked slowly back toward thehouse. "I think I scared Andy so that he won't come back right away. Hehad the laugh on me, though, when I stumbled and fell."

As Tom proceeded he heard some one approaching, around the path at theside of the house.

"Who's there?" he called quickly, taking a firmer grasp of his stick.

"It's me, Massa Swift," was the response. "I jest come back from town.I got some peppermint fo' mah mule, Boomerang, dat's what I got."

"Oh! It's you, is it, Rad?" asked the youth in easier tones.

"Dat's who it am. Did yo' t'ink it were some un else?"

"I did," replied Tom. "Andy Foger has been sneaking around. Keep youreyes open the rest of the night, Rad."

"I will, Massa Tom."

The youth went into the house, having left word with the engineer, Mr.Jackson, to be on the alert for anything suspicious.

"And now I guess I'll go to bed, and make an early start to-morrowmorning, planning my new aeroplane," mused Tom. "I'm going to make thespeediest craft of the air ever seen!"

As he started toward his room Tom Swift heard the voice of thehousekeeper calling to him:

"Tom! Oh, Tom! Come here, quickly!"

"What's the matter?" he asked, in vague alarm.

"Something has happened to your father!" was the startling reply. "He'sfallen down, and is unconscious! Come quickly! Send for the doctor!"

Tom fairly ran toward his father's room.

Chapter Three

The Plans Disappear

Mr. Swift was lying on the floor, where he had fallen, in front of hisbed, as he was preparing to retire. There was no mark of injury uponhim, and at first, as he knelt down at his father's side, Tom was at aloss to account for what had taken place.

"How did it happen? When was it?" he asked of Mrs. Baggert, as he heldup his father's head, and noted that the aged man was breathingslightly.

"I don't know what happened, Tom," answered the housekeeper, "but Iheard him fall, and ran upstairs, only to find him lying there, justlike that. Then I called you. Hadn't you better have a doctor?"

"Yes; we'll need one at once. Send Eradicate. Tell him to run—not towait for his mule—Boomerang is too slow. Oh, no! The telephone, ofcourse! Why didn't I think of that at first? Please telephone for Dr.Gladby, Mrs. Baggert. Ask him to come as soon as possible, and thentell Garret Jackson to step here. I'll have him help me get father intobed."

The housekeeper hastened to the instrument, and was soon incommunication with the physician, who promised to call at once. Theengineer was summoned from another part of the house, and thenEradicate was aroused.

Mrs. Baggert had the colored man help her get some kettles of hot waterin readiness for possible use by the doctor. Mr. Jackson aided Tom tolift Mr. Swift up on the bed, and they got off some of his clothes.

"I'll try to see if I can revive him with a little aromatic spirits ofammonia," decided Tom, as he noticed that his father was stillunconscious. He hastened to prepare the strong spirits, while he wasconscious of a feeling of fear and alarm, mingled with sadness.

Suppose his father should die? Tom could not bear to think of that. Hewould be left all alone, and how much he would miss the companionshipand comradeship of his father none but himself knew.

"Oh! but I mustn't think he's going to die!" exclaimed the youth, as hemixed the medicine.

Mr. Swift feebly opened his eyes after Tom and Mr. Jackson hadsucceeded in forcing some of the ammonia between his lips.

"Where am I? What happened?" asked the aged inventor faintly.

"We don't know, exactly," spoke Tom softly. "You are ill, father. I'vesent for the doctor. He'll fix you up. He'll be here soon."

"Yes, I'm—I'm ill," murmured the aged man. "Something hurts me—here,"and he put his hand over his heart.

Tom felt a nameless sense of fear. He wished now that he had insistedon his parent consulting a physician some time before, when Mr. Swiftfirst complained of a minor ailment. Perhaps now it was too late.

"Oh! when will that doctor come?" murmured Tom impatiently.

Mrs. Baggert, who was nervously going in and out of the room, againwent to the telephone.

"He's on his way," the housekeeper reported. "His wife said he juststarted out in his auto."

Dr. Gladby hurried into the room a little later, and cast a quick lookat Mr. Swift, who had again lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Do you think he—think he's going to die?" faltered Tom. He was nolonger the self-reliant young inventor. He could meet danger bravelywhen it threatened himself alone, but when his father was stricken heseemed to lose all courage.

"Die? Nonsense!" exclaimed the doctor heartily. "He's not dead yet, atall events, and while there's life there's hope. I'll soon have him outof this spell."

It was some little time, however, before Mr. Swift again opened hiseyes, but he seemed to gain strength from the remedies which Dr. Gladbyadministered, and in about an hour the inventor could sit up.

"But you must be careful," cautioned the physician. "Don't overdoyourself. I'll be in again in the morning, and now I'll leave you somemedicine, to be taken every two hours."

"Oh, I feel much better," said Mr. Swift, and his voice certainlyseemed stronger. "I can't imagine what happened. I came upstairs, afterTom had received a visit from the minister, and that's all I remember."

"The minister, father!" exclaimed Tom, in great amazement. "Theminister wasn't here this evening! That was Mr. Gunmore, the aviationsecretary. Don't you remember?"

"I don't remember any gentleman like that calling here to-night," Mr.Swift said blankly. "It was the minister, I'm sure, Tom."

"The minister was here last night, Mr. Swift," said the housekeeper.

"Was he? Why, it seems like to-night. And I came upstairs after talkingto him, and then it all got black, and—and—"

"There, now; don't try to think," advised the doctor. "You'll be allright in the morning."

"But I can't remember anything about that aviation man," protested Mr.Swift. "I never used to be that way—forgetting things. I don't likeit!"

"Oh, it's just because you're tired," declared the physician. "It willall come back to you in the morning. I'll stop in and see you then. Nowtry to go to sleep." And he left the room.

Tom followed him, Mrs. Baggert and Mr. Jackson remaining with the sickman.

"What is the matter with my father, Dr. Gladby?" asked Tom earnestly,as the doctor prepared to take his departure. "Is it anything serious?"

"Well," began the medical man, "I would not be doing my duty, Tom, if Idid not tell you what it is. That is, it is comparatively serious, butit is curable, and I think we can bring him around. He has an affectionof the heart, that, while it is common enough, is sometimes fatal.

"But I do not think it will be so in your father's case. He has a fineconstitution, and this would never have happened had he not been rundown from overwork. That is the principal trouble. What he needs isrest; and then, with the proper remedies, he will be as well as before."

"But that strange lapse of memory, doctor?"

"Oh, that is nothing. It is due to the fact that he has been using hisbrain too much. The brain protests, and refuses to work until rested.Your father has been working rather hard of late hasn't he?"

"Yes; on a new wireless motor."

"I thought so. Well, a good rest is what he needs, and then his mindand body will be in tune again. I'll be around in the morning."

Tom was somewhat relieved by the doctor's words, but not very much so,and he spent an anxious night, getting up every two hours to administerthe medicine. Toward morning Mr. Swift fell into a heavy sleep, and didnot awaken for some time.

"Oh, you're much better!" declared Dr. Gladby when he saw his patientthat day.

"Yes, I feel better," admitted Mr. Swift.

"And can't you remember about Mr. Gunmore calling?" asked Tom.

The aged inventor shook his head, with a puzzled air.

"I can't remember it at all," he said. "The minister is the last personI remember calling here."

Tom looked worried, but the physician said it was a common feature ofthe disease from which Mr. Swift suffered, and would doubtless passaway.

"And you don't remember how we talked about me building a speedyaeroplane and trying for the ten-thousand-dollar prize?" asked Tom.

"I can't remember a thing about it," said the inventor, with a puzzledshake of his head, "and I'm not going to try, at least not right away.But, Tom, if you're going to build a new aeroplane, I want to help you.I'll give you the benefit of my advice. I think my new form of motorcan be used in it."

"Now! now! No inventions—at least not just yet!" objected thephysician. "You must have a good rest first, Mr. Swift, and get strong.Then you and Tom can build as many airships as you like."

Mr. Swift felt so much better about three days later that he wanted toget right to work planning the airship that was to win the big prize,but the doctor would not hear of it. Tom, however, began to make roughsketches of what he had in mind changing them from time to time. Healso worked on a type of motor, very light, and modeled after one hisfather had recently patented.

Then a new idea came to Tom in regard to the shape of his aeroplane,and he worked several days drawing the plans for it. It was a new ideain construction, and he believed it would give him the great speed hedesired.

"But I'd like dad to see it," he said. "As soon as he's well enoughI'll go over it with him."

That time came a week later, and with a complete set of the plans,embodying his latest ideas, Tom went into the library where his fatherwas seated in an easy-chair. Dr. Gladby had said it would not now harmthe aged inventor to do a little work. Tom spread the drawings out infront of his father, and began to explain them in detail.

"I really think you have something great there, Tom!" exclaimed Mr.Swift, at length. "It is a very small monoplane, to be sure, but Ithink with the new principle you have introduced it will work; but, ifI were you, I'd shape those wing tips a little differently."

"No, they're better that way," said Tom pleasantly, for he did notoften disagree with his father. "I'll show you from a little model Ihave made. I'll get it right away."

Anxious to demonstrate that he was right in his theory, Tom hurriedfrom the library to get the model of which he had spoken. He left theroll of plans lying on a small table near where his father was seated.

"There, you see, dad," said the young inventor as he re-entered thelibrary a few minutes later, "when you warp the wing tips in making aspiral ascent it throws your tail wings out of plumb, and so—"

Tom paused in some amazement, for Mr. Swift was lying back in hischair, with his eyes closed. The lad started in alarm, laid aside hismodel, and sprang to his father's side.

"He's had another of those heart attacks!" gasped Tom. He was justgoing to call Mrs. Baggert, when Mr. Swift opened his eyes. He lookedat Tom, and the lad could see that they were bright, and did not showany signs of illness.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed the inventor. "I must have dozed off, Tom,while you were gone. That's what I did. I fell asleep!"

"Oh!" said Tom, much relieved. "I was afraid you were ill again. Now,in this model, as you will see by the plans, it is necessary—"

He paused, and looked over at the table where he had left the drawings.They were not there!

"The plans, father!" Tom exclaimed. "The plans I left on the table!Where are they?"

"I haven't touched them," was the answer. "They were on that table,where you put them, when I closed my eyes for a little nap. I forgotall about them. Are you sure they're missing?"

"They're not here!" And Tom gazed wildly about the room. "Where canthey have gone?"

"I wasn't out of my chair," said Mr. Swift, "I ought not to have goneto sleep, but—"

Tom fairly jumped toward the long library window, the same one fromwhich he had leaped to pursue Andy Foger. The casement was open, andTom noted that the screen was also unhooked. It had been closed when hewent to get the model, he was sure of that.

"Look, dad! See!" he exclaimed, as he picked up from the floor a smallpiece of paper.

"What is it, Tom?"

"A sheet on which I did some figuring. It is no good, but it was inwith the plans. It must have dropped out."

"Do you mean that some one has been in here and taken the plans of yournew aeroplane, Tom?" gasped his father.

"That's just what I mean! They sneaked in here while you were dozing,took the plans, and jumped out of the window with them. On the way thispaper fell out. It's the only clue we have. Stay here, dad. I'm goingto have a look." And Tom jumped from the library window and ran downthe path after the unknown thief.

Chapter Four

Anxious Days

Peering on all sides as he dashed along the gravel walk, hoping tocatch a glimpse of the unknown intruder in the garden or shrubbery, Tomsprinted on at top speed. Now and then he paused to listen, but nosound came to him to tell of some one in retreat before him. There wasonly Silence.

"Mighty queer," mused the youth. "Whoever it was, he couldn't have hadmore than a minute start of me—no, not even half a minute—and yetthey've disappeared as completely as though the ground had opened andlet them down; and the worst of it is, that they've taken my plans withthem!"

He turned about and retraced his steps, making a careful search. He sawno one, until, turning a corner, a little later, he met EradicateSampson.

"You haven't seen any strangers around here just now, have you, Rad?"asked Tom anxiously.

"No, indeedy, I hasn't, Massa Tom. What fo' kind ob a stranger was him?"

"That's just what I don't know. Rad. But some one sneaked into thelibrary just now and took some of my plans while my father dozed off. Ijumped out after him as soon as I could, but he has disappeared."

"Maybe it were th' man who done stowed hisself away on yo' airship, detime yo' all went after de diamonds," suggested the colored man.

"No, it couldn't have been him. If it was anybody, it was Andy Foger,or some of his crowd. You didn't see Andy, did you, Rad?"

"No, indeedy; but if I do, I suah will turn mah mule, Boomerang, looseon him, an' he won't take any mo' plans—not right off, Massa Tom."

"No, I guess not. Well, I must get back to dad, or he'll worry. Keepyour eyes open, Rad, and if you see Andy Foger, or any one else, aroundhere, let me know. Just sing out for all you're worth."

"Shall I call out, Massa Tom, ef I sees dat blessin' man?"

"You mean Mr. Damon?"

"Dat's de one. De gen'man what's allers a-blessin' ob hisself or hisshoelaces, or suffin laik dat. Shall I sing out ef I sees him?"

"Well, no; not exactly, Rad. Just show Mr. Damon up to the house. I'dbe glad to see him again, though I don't fancy he'll call. He's off ona little trip, and won't be back for a week. But watch out, Rad." Andwith that Tom turned toward the house, shaking his head over the puzzleof the missing plans.

"Did you find any one?" asked his father eagerly as the young inventorentered the library.

"No," was the gloomy answer. "There wasn't a sign of any one."

Tom went over to the window and looked about for clues. There was nonethat he could see, and a further examination of the ground under thewindow disclosed nothing. There was gravel beneath the casement, andthis was not the best medium for retaining footprints. Nor were thegravel walks any better.

"Not a sign of any one," murmured Tom. "Are you sure you didn't hearany noise, dad, when you dozed off?"

"Not a sound, Tom. In fact, it's rather unusual for me to go to sleeplike that, but I suppose it's because of my illness. But I couldn'thave been asleep long—not more than two minutes."

"That's what I think. Yet in that time someone, who must have been onthe watch, managed to get in here and take my plans for the new skyracer. I don't see how they got the wire screen open from the outside,though. It fastens with a strong hook."

"And was the screen open?" asked Mr. Swift

"Yes, it was unhooked. Either they pushed a wire in through the mesh,caught it under the hook, and pulled it up from the outside, or elsethe screen was opened from the inside."

"I don't believe they could get inside to open the screen without someof us seeing them," spoke the older inventor. "More likely, Tom, itwasn't hooked, and they found it an easy matter to simply pull it open."

"That's possible. I'll ask Mrs. Baggert if the screen was unhooked."

But the housekeeper could not be certain on that point, and so thatpart of the investigation amounted to nothing.

"It's too bad!" exclaimed Mr. Swift. "It's my fault, for dozing offthat way."

"No, indeed, it isn't!" declared Tom stoutly.

"Is the loss a serious one?" asked his father. "Have you no copy of theplans?"

"Yes, I have a rough draft from which I made the completed drawings,and I can easily make another set. But that isn't what worries me—themere loss of the plans."

"What is it, then, Tom?"

"The fact that whoever took them must know that they are the plans fora sky racer that is to take part in the big meet. I have worked it outon a new principle, and it is not yet patented. Whoever stole my planscan make the same kind of a sky racer that I intended to construct, andso stand as good a chance to win the prize of ten thousand dollars as Iwill."

"That certainly is too bad, Tom. I never thought of that. Do yoususpect any one?"

"No one, unless it's Andy Foger. He's mean enough to do a thing likethat, but I didn't think he'd have the nerve. However, I'll see if Ican learn anything about him. He may have been sneaking around, and ifhe has my plans he'd ask nothing better than to make a sky racer andbeat me."

"Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Mr. Swift "I—I feel very bad aboutit!"

"There, never mind!" spoke the lad, seeing that his father was lookingill again. "Don't think any more about it, dad. I'll get back thoseplans. Come, now. It's time for your medicine, and then you must liedown." For the aged inventor was looking tired and weak.

Wearily he let Tom lead him to his room, and after seeing that theinvalid was comfortable Tom called up Dr. Gladby, to have him come andsee Mr. Swift. The doctor said his patient had been overdoing himself alittle, and must rest more if he was to completely recover.

Learning that his father was no worse, Tom set off to find Andy Foger.

"I can't rest until I know whether or not he has my plans," he said tohimself. "I don't want to make a speedy aeroplane, and find out at thelast minute that Andy, or some of his cronies, have duplicated it."

But Tom got little satisfaction from Andy Foger. When that bully wasaccused of having been around Tom's house he denied it, and though theyoung inventor did not actually accuse him of taking the plans, hehinted at it. Andy muttered many indignant negatives, and called onsome of his cronies to witness that at the time the plans were taken heand they were some distance from the Swift home.

So Tom was baffled; and though he did not believe the red-haired lad'sdenial, there was no way in which he could prove to the contrary.

"If he didn't take the plans, who did?" mused Tom.

As the young inventor turned away after cross-questioning Andy, thebully called out:

"You'll never win that ten thousand dollars!"

"What do you know about that?" demanded Tom quickly.

"Oh, I know," sneered Andy. "There'll be bigger and better aeroplanesin that meet than you can make, and you'll never win the prize."

"I suppose you heard about the affair by sneaking around under ourwindows, and listening," said Tom.

"Never mind how I know it, but I do," retorted the bully.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," said Tom calmly. "If you come aroundagain it won't be healthy for you. Look out for live wires, if you tryto do the listening act any more, Andy!" And with that ominous warningTom turned away.

"What do you suppose he means, Andy?" asked Pete Bailey, one of Andy'scronies.

"It means he's got electrical wires strung around his place," declaredSam Snedecker, "and that we'll be shocked if we go up there. I'm notgoing!"

"Me, either," added Pete, and Andy laughed uneasily.

Tom heard what they said, and in the next few days he made himself busyby putting some heavy wires in and about the grounds where they wouldshow best. But the wires carried no current, and were only displayed toimpress a sense of fear on Andy and his cronies, which purpose theyserved well.

But it was like locking the stable door after the horse had beenstolen, for with all the precautions he could take Tom could not getback his plans, and he spent many anxious days seeking them. Theyseemed to have completely disappeared, however, and the young inventordecided there was nothing else to do but to draw new ones.

He set to work on them, and in the meanwhile tried to learn whether ornot Andy had the missing plans. He sought this information by stealth,and was aided by his chum, Ned Newton. But all to no purpose. Not theslightest trace or clue was discovered.

Chapter Five

Building the Sky Racer

"What will you do, if, after you have your little monoplane allconstructed, and get ready to race, you find that some one else has oneexactly like it at the meet?" asked Ned Newton one day, when he and Tomwere out in the big workshop, talking things over. "What will you do,Tom?"

"I don't see that there is anything I can do. I'll go on to the meet,of course, and trust to some improvements I have since brought out, andto what I know about aeroplanes, to help me win the race. I'll know,too, who stole my plans."

"But it will be too late, then."

"Yes, too late, perhaps, to stop them from using the drawings, but nottoo late to punish them for the theft. It's a great mystery, and I'llbe on the anxious seat all the while. But it can't be helped."

"When are you going to start work on the sky racer?"

"Pretty soon, now. I've got another set of plans made, and I've fixedthem so that if they are stolen it won't do any one any good."

"How's that?"

"I've put in a whole lot of wrong figures and measurements, and scoresof lines and curves that mean nothing. I have marked the right figuresand lines by a secret mark, and when I work on them I'll use only theproper ones. But any one else wouldn't know this. Oh, I'll fool 'emthis time!"

"I hope you do. Well, when you get the machine done I'd like to ride init. Will it carry two, as your Butterfly does?"

"Yes, only it will be much different; and, of course, it will go muchfaster. I'll give you a ride, all right, Ned. Well, now I must get busyand see what material I need for what I hope will prove to be thespeediest aeroplane in the world."

"That's going some! I must be leaving now. Don't forget your promise. Isaw Mary Nestor on my way over here. She was asking for you. She saidyou must be very busy, for she hadn't seen you in some time."

"Um!" was all Tom answered, but by the blush that mounted to his faceit was evident that he was more interested in Mary Nestor than his mereexclamation indicated.

When Ned had gone Tom got out pencil and paper, and was busily engagedin making some intricate calculations. He drew odd little sketches onthe margin of the sheet, and then wrote out a list of the things hewould need to construct the new aeroplane.

This finished, he went to Mr. Jackson, the engineer, and asked him toget the various things together, and to have them put in the specialshop where Tom did most of his work.

"I want to get the machine together as soon as I can," he remarked tothe engineer, "for it will need to be given a good tryout before Ienter in the race, and I may find that I'll have to make severalchanges in it."

Mr. Jackson promised to attend to the matter right away, and then Tomwent in to talk to his father about the motor that was to whirl thepropeller of the new air craft.

Mr. Swift had improved very much in the past few days, and though Dr.Gladby said he was far from being well, the physician declared therewas no reason why he should not do some inventive work.

He and Tom were deep in an argument of gasoline motors, discussing thebest manner of attaching the fins to the cylinders to make themair-cooled, when a voice sounded outside, the voice of Eradicate:

"Heah! Whar yo' goin'?" demanded the colored man. "Whar yo' goin'?"

"Somebody's out in the garden!" exclaimed Tom, jumping up suddenly.

"Perhaps it's the same person who took the plans!" suggested Mr. Swift.

"Hold on, dere!" yelled Eradicate again.

Then a voice replied:

"Bless my insurance policy! What's the matter? Have there been burglarsaround? Why all these precautions? Bless my steam heater! Don't youknow me?"

"Mr. Damon!" cried Tom, a look of pleasure coming over his face. "Mr.Damon is coming!"

"So I should judge," responded Mr. Swift, with a smile. "I wonder whyEradicate didn't recognize him?"

They learned why a moment later, for on looking from the librarywindow, Tom saw the colored man coming up the walk behind awell-dressed gentleman.

"Why, mah goodness! It's Mr. Damon!" exclaimed Eradicate. "I didn'tknow yo', sah, wif dem whiskers on! I didn't, fo' a fac'!"

"Bless my razor! I suppose it does make a difference," said theeccentric man. "Yes, my wife thought I'd look better, and more sedate,with a beard, so I grew one to please her. But I don't like it. A beardis too warm this kind of weather; eh, Tom?" And Mr. Damon waved hishand to the young inventor and his father, who stood in the low windowsof the library. "Entirely too warm, bless my finger-nails, yes!"

"I agree with you!" exclaimed Tom. "Come in! We're glad to see you!"

"I called to see if you aren't going on another trip to the North Pole,or somewhere in the Arctic regions," went on Mr. Damon.

"Why?" inquired Tom.

"Why, then this heavy beard of mine would come in handy. It would keepmy throat and chin warm." And Mr. Damon ran his hands through hisluxuriant whiskers.

"No more northern trips right away," said Tom. "I'm about to build aspeedy monoplane, to take part in the big meet at Eagle Park."

"Oh, yes, I heard about the meet," said Mr. Damon. "I'd like to be inthat."

"Well, I'm building a machine that will carry two," went on Tom, "andif you think you can stand a speed of a hundred miles an hour, orbetter, I'll let you come with me. There are some races where apassenger is allowed."

"Have you got a razor?" asked Mr. Damon suddenly.

"What for?" inquired Mr. Swift, wondering what the eccentric man wasgoing to do.

"Why, bless my shaving soap! I'm going to cut off my beard. If I go ina monoplane at a hundred miles an hour I don't want to make any moreresistance to the wind than possible, and my whiskers would certainlyhold back Tom's machine. Where's a razor? I'm going to shave at once.My wife won't mind when I tell her what it's for. Lend me a razor,please, Tom."

"Oh, there's plenty of time," explained the lad, with a laugh. "Therace doesn't take place for over two months. But when it does, I thinkyou would be better off without a beard."

"I know it," said Mr. Damon simply. "I'll shave before we enter thecontest, Tom. But now tell me all about it."

Tom did so, relating the story of the theft of the plans. Mr. Damon wasfor having Andy arrested at once, but Mr. Swift and his son pointed outthat they had no evidence against him.

"All we can do," said the young inventor, "is to keep watch on him, andsee if he is building another aeroplane. He has all the facilities, andhe may attempt to get ahead of me. If he enters a sky craft at the meetI'll be pretty sure that he has made it from my stolen plans."

"Bless my wing tips!" cried Mr. Damon. "But can't we do anything tostop him?"

"I'm afraid not," answered Tom; and then he showed Mr. Damon hisre-drawn plans, and told in detail of how he intended to construct thenew aeroplane.

The eccentric man remained as the guest of the Swift family that night,departing for his home the next day, and promising to be on hand assoon as Tom was ready to test his new craft, which would be in about amonth.

As the days passed, Tom, with the help of his father, whose health wasslightly better, and with the aid of Mr. Jackson, began work on thespeedy little sky racer.

As you boys are all more or less familiar with aeroplanes, we will notdevote much space to the description of the new one Tom Swift made. Wecan describe it in general terms, but there were some features of itwhich Tom kept a secret from all save his father.

Suffice it to say that Tom had decided to build a small air craft ofthe single-wing type, known as the monoplane. It was to be a crossbetween the Bleriot and the Antoinette, with the general features ofboth, but with many changes or improvements.

The wings were shaped somewhat like those of a humming-bird, which, asis well known, can, at times, vibrate its wings with such velocity thatthe most rapid camera lens cannot quite catch.

And when it is known that a bullet in flight has been successfullyphotographed, the speed of the wings of the humming-bird can be betterappreciated.

The writer has seen a friend, with a very rapid camera, which was usedto snap automobiles in flight, attempt to take a picture of ahumming-bird. He got the picture, all right, but the plate was blurred,showing that the wings had moved faster than the lens could throw themon the sensitive plate.

Not that Tom intended the wings of his monoplane to vibrate, but headopted that style as being the best adapted to allow of rapid flightthrough the air; and the young inventor had determined that he wouldclip many minutes from the best record yet made.

The body of his craft, between the forward wings and the rear ones,where the rudders were located, was shaped like a cigar, with sidewings somewhat like the fin keels of the ocean liner to prevent arolling motion. In addition, Tom had an ingenious device toautomatically adapt his monoplane to sudden currents of air that mightoverturn it, and this device was one of the points which he kept secret.

The motor, which was air-cooled, was located forward, and was justabove the heads of the operator and the passenger who sat beside him.The single propeller, which was ten feet in diameter, gave a minimumthrust of one thousand pounds at two thousand revolutions per minute.

This was one feature wherein Tom's craft differed from others. Theusual aeroplane propeller is eight feet in diameter, and gives fromfour to five hundred pounds thrust at about one thousand revolutionsper minute, so it can be readily seen wherein Tom had an advantage.

"But I'm building this for speed," he said to Mr. Jackson, "and I'mgoing to get it! We'll make a hundred miles an hour without trouble."

"I believe you," replied the engineer. "The motor you and your fatherhave made is a wonder for lightness and power."

In fact, the whole monoplane was so light and frail as to give one theidea of a rather large model, instead of a real craft, intended forservice. But a careful inspection showed the great strength it had, forit was braced and guyed in a new way, and was as rigid as asteel-trussed bridge.

"What are you going to call her?" asked Mr. Jackson, about two weeksafter they had started work on the craft, and when it had begun toassume shape and form.

"I'm going to name her the Humming-Bird," replied Tom. "She's little,but oh, my!"

"And I guess she'll bring home the prize," added the engineer.

And as the days went by, and Tom, his father and Mr. Jackson continuedto work on the speedy craft, this hope grew in the heart of the younginventor. But he could not rid himself of worry as to the fate of theplans that had disappeared. Who had them? Was some one making a machinelike his own from them? Tom wished he knew.

Chapter Six

Andy Foger Will Contest

One afternoon, as Tom was working away in the shop on his sky racer,adjusting one of the rear rudders, and pausing now and then to admirethe trim little craft, he heard some one approaching. Looking outthrough a small observation peephole made for this purpose, he saw Mrs.Baggert hurrying toward the building.

"I wonder what's the matter?" he said aloud, for there was a look ofworriment on the lady's face. Tom threw open the door. "What is it,Mrs. Baggert?" he called. "Some one up at the house who wants to seeme?"

"No, it's your father!" panted the housekeeper, for she was quitestout. "He is very ill again, and I can't seem to get Dr. Gladby onthe telephone. Central says he doesn't answer."

"My father worse!" cried Tom in alarm, dropping his tools and hurryingfrom the shop. "Where's Eradicate? Send him for the doctor. Perhaps thewires are broken. If he can't locate Dr. Gladby, get Dr. Kurtz. We musthave some one. Here, Rad! Where are you?" he called, raising his voice.

"Heah I be!" answered the colored man, coming from the direction of thegarden, which he had been weeding.

"Get out your mule, and go for Dr. Gladby. If he isn't home, get Dr.Kurtz. Hurry, Rad!"

"I's mighty sorry, Massa Tom," answered the colored man, "but I cain'thurry, nohow."

"Why not?"

"Because Boomerang done gone lame, an' he won't run. I'll go mahse'f,but I cain't take dat air mule."

"Never mind. I'll go in the Butterfly," decided Tom quickly. "I'll runup to the house and see how dad is, and while I'm gone, Rad, you getout the Butterfly. I can make the trip in that. If Dr. Kurtz had a'phone I could get him, but he lives over on the back road, where thereisn't a line. Hurry, Rad!"

"Yes, sah, Massa Tom, I'll hurry!"

The colored man knew how to get the monoplane in shape for a flight, ashe had often done it.

Tom found his father in no immediate danger, but Mr. Swift had had aslight recurrence of his heart trouble, and it was thought best to havea doctor. So Tom started off in his air craft, rising swiftly above thehousetop, and sailed off toward the old-fashioned residence of Dr.Kurtz, a sturdy, elderly German physician, who sometimes attended Mr.Swift. Tom decided that as long as Dr. Gladby did not answer his'phone, he could not be at home, and this, he learned later, was thecase, the physician being in a distant town on a consultation.

"My, this Butterfly seems big and clumsy beside my Humming-Bird," musedTom as he slid along through the air, now flying high and now low,merely for practice. "This machine can go, but wait until I have my newone in the air! Then I'll show 'em what speed is!"

He was soon at the physician's house, and found him in.

"Won't you ride back with me in the monoplane?" asked Tom. "I'm anxiousto have you see dad as soon as you can.

"Vot! Me drust mineself in one ob dem airships? I dinks not!" exclaimedDr. Kurtz ponderously. "Vy, I vould not efen ride in an outer-mobile,yet, so vy should I go in von contrivance vot is efen more dangerous?No, I gomes to your fader in der carriage, mit mine old Dobbin horse.Dot vill not drop me to der ground, or run me up a tree, yet! Vot?"

"Very well," said Tom, "only hurry, please."

The young inventor, in his airship, reached home some time before theslow-going doctor got there in his carriage. Mr. Swift was no worse,Tom was glad to find, though he was evidently quite ill.

"So, ve must take goot care of him," said the doctor, when he hadexamined the patient. "Dr. Gladby he has done much for him, und I cando little more. You must dake care of yourself, Herr Swift, or youvill—but den, vot is der use of being gloomy-minded? I am sure youvill go more easy, und not vork so much."

"I haven't worked much," replied the aged inventor. "I have only beenhelping my son on a new airship."

"Den dot must stop," insisted the doctor. "You must haf gompleterest—dot's it—gomplete rest."

"We'll do just as you say, doctor," said Tom. "We'll give up theaeroplane matters, dad, and go away, you and I, where we can't see ablueprint or a pattern, or hear the sound of machinery. We'll cut itall out."

"Dot vould he goot," said Dr. Kurtz ponderously.

"No, I couldn't think of it," answered Mr. Swift. "I want you to go inthat race, Tom—and win!"

"But I'll not do it, dad, if you're going to be ill."

"He is ill now," interrupted the doctor. "Very ill, Dom Swift."

"That settles it. I don't go in the race. You and I'll go away, dad—toCalifornia, or up in Canada. We'll travel for your health."

"No! no!" insisted the old inventor gently. "I will be all right. Mostof the work on the monoplane is done now, isn't it, Tom?"

"Yes, dad."

"Then you go on, and finish it. You and Mr. Jackson can do it withoutme now. I'll take a rest, doctor, but I want my son to enter that race,and, what's more, I want him to win!"

"Vell, if you don't vork, dot is all I ask. I must forbid you to do anymore. Mit Dom, dot is different. He is young und strong, und he canvork. But you—not, Herr Swift, or I doctor you no more." And thephysician shook his big head.

"Very well. I'll agree to that if Tom will promise to enter the race,"said the inventor.

"I will," said Tom.

The physician took his leave shortly after that, the medicine he gaveto Mr. Swift somewhat relieving him. Then the young inventor, who feltin a little better spirits, went back to his workshop.

"Poor dad," he mused. "He thinks more of me and this aeroplane than hedoes of himself. Well, I will go in the race, and I'll—yes, I'll win!"And Tom looked very determined.

He was about to resume work on his craft when something about the wayone of the forward planes was tilted attracted his attention.

"I never left it that way," mused Tom. "Some one has been in here. Iwonder if it was Mr. Jackson?"

Tom stepped to the door and called for Eradicate. The colored man camefrom the direction of the garden, which he was still weeding.

"Has Mr. Jackson been around, Rad?" asked the lad.

"No, sah. I ain't seed him."

"Have you been in here, looking at the Humming-Bird?"

"No, Massa Tom. I nebber goes in dere, lessen as how yo' is dere. Dem'syo' orders."

"That's so, Rad. I might have known you wouldn't go in. But did you seeany one enter the shop?"

"Not a pusson, sab."

"Have you been here all the while?"

"All but jes' a few minutes, when I went to de barn to put someliniment on Boomerang's so' foot."

"H'm! Some one might have slipped in here while I was away," mused Tom."I ought to have locked the doors, but I was in a hurry. This thing isgetting on my nerves. I wonder if it's Andy Foger, or some one else,who is after my secret?"

He made a hasty examination of the shop, but could discover nothingmore wrong, except that one of the planes of the Humming-Bird had beenshifted.

"It looks as if they were trying to see how it was fastened on, and howit worked," mused Tom. "But my plans haven't been touched, and nodamage has been done. Only I don't like to think that people have beenin here. They may have stolen some of my ideas. I must keep this placelocked night and day after this."

Tom spent a busy week in making improvements on his craft. Mr. Swiftwas doing well, and after a consultation by Dr. Kurtz and Dr. Gladby itwas decided to adopt a new style of treatment. In the meanwhile, Mr.Swift kept his promise, and did no work. He sat in his easy-chair, outin the garden, and dozed away, while Tom visited him frequently to seeif he needed anything.

"Poor old dad!" mused the young inventor. "I hope he is well enough tocome and see me try for the ten-thousand-dollar prize—and win it! Ihope I do; but if some one builds, from my stolen plans, a machine onthis model, I'll have my work cut out for me." And he gazed with prideon the Humming-Bird.

For the past two weeks Tom had seen nothing of Andy Foger. Thered-haired bully seemed to have dropped out of sight, and even hiscronies, Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey, did not know where he had gone.

"I hope he has gone for good," said Ned Newton, who lived near Andy."He's an infernal nuisance. I wish he'd never come back to Shopton."

But Andy was destined to come back.

One day, when Tom was busy installing a wireless apparatus on his newaeroplane, he heard Eradicate hurrying up the path that led to the shop.

"I wonder if dad is worse?" thought Tom, that always being his firstidea when he knew a summons was coming for him. Quickly be opened thedoor.

"Some one's comin' out to see you, Massa Tom," said the colored man.

"Who is it?" asked the lad, taking the precaution to put his preciousplans out of sight.

"I dunno, sah; but yo' father knows him, an' he said fo' me to come outheah, ahead ob de gen'man, an' tell yo' he were comin'. He'll be rightheah."

"Oh, well, if dad knows him, it's all right. Let him come, Rad."

"Yes, sah. Heah he comes." And the colored man pointed to a figureadvancing down the gravel path. Tom watched the stranger curiously.There was something familiar about him, and Tom was sure he had met himbefore, yet he could not seem to place him.

"How are you, Tom Swift?" greeted the newcomer pleasantly. "I guessyou've forgotten me, haven't you?" He held out his hand, which Tomtook. "Don't know me, do you?" he went on.

"Well, I'm afraid I've forgotten your name," admitted the lad, just abit embarrassed. "But your face is familiar, somehow, and yet it isn't."

"I've shaved off my mustache," went on the other. "That makes adifference. But you haven't forgotten John Sharp, the balloonist, whomyou rescued from Lake Carlopa, and who helped you build the Red Cloud?You haven't forgotten John Sharp, have you, Tom?"

"Well, I should say not!" cried the lad heartily. "I'm real glad to seeyou. What are you doing around here? Come in. I've got something toshow you," and he motioned to the shop where the Humming-Bird washoused.

"Oh, I know what it is," said the veteran balloonist.

"You do?"

"Yes. It's your new aeroplane. In fact, I came to see you about it."

"To see me about it?"

"Yes. I'm one of the committee of arrangements for the meet to be heldat Eagle Park, where I understand you are going to contest. I came tosee how near you were ready, and to get you to make a formal entry ofyour machine. Mr. Gunmore sent me."

"Oh, so you're in with them now, eh?" asked Tom. "Well, I'm glad toknow I've got a friend on the committee. Yes, my machine is gettingalong very well. I'll soon be ready for a trial flight. Come in andlook at it. I think it's a bird—a regular Humming-Bird!" And Tomlaughed.

"It certainly is something new," admitted Mr. Sharp as his eyes took inthe details of the trim little craft. "By the way, Shopton is going tobe well represented at the meet."

"How is that? I thought I was the only one around here to enter anaeroplane."

"No. We have just received an entry from Andy Foger."

"From Andy Foger!" gasped Tom. "Is he going to try to win some of theprizes?"

"He's entered for the big one, the ten-thousand-dollar prize," repliedthe balloonist. "He has made formal application to be allowed tocompete, and we have to accept any one who applies. Why, do you objectto him, Tom?"

"Object to him? Mr. Sharp, let me tell you something. Some time ago aset of plans of my machine here were stolen from my house. I suspectedAndy Foger of taking them, but I could get no proof. Now you say he isbuilding a machine to compete for the big prize. Do you happen to knowwhat style it is?"

"It's a small monoplane, something like the Antoinette, his applicationstates, though he may change it later."

"Then he's stolen my ideas, and is making a craft like this!" exclaimedTom, as he sank upon a bench, and gazed from the balloonist to theHumming-Bird, and back to Mr. Sharp again. "Andy Foger is trying tobeat me with my own machine!"

Chapter Seven

Seeking a Clue

John Sharp was more than surprised at the effect his piece ofinformation had on Tom Swift. Though the young inventor had all alongsuspected Andy of having the missing plans, yet there had been nopositive evidence on this point. That, coupled with the fact that thered-haired bully had not been seen in the vicinity of Shopton lately,had, in a measure, lulled Tom's suspicions to rest, but now his hopehad been rudely shattered.

"Do you really think that's his game?" asked Mr. Sharp.

"I'm sure of it," replied the youth. "Though where he is building hisaeroplane I can't imagine, for I haven't seen him in town. He's away."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Well, not absolutely sure," replied Tom. "It's the general rumor thathe's out of town."

"Well, old General Rumor is sometimes a person not to be relied upon,"remarked the balloonist grimly. "Now this is the way I size it up: Ofcourse, all I know officially is that Andy Foger has sent in an entryfor the big race for the ten-thousand-dollar prize which is offered bythe Eagle Park Aviation Association. I'm a member of the arrangementscommittee, and so I know. I also know that you and several others aregoing to try for the prize. That's all I am absolutely sure of.

"Now, when you tell me about the missing plans, and you conclude thatAndy is doing some underhanded work, I agree with you. But I go a stepfarther. I don't believe he's out of town at all."

"Why not?" exclaimed Tom.

"Because when he has an airship shed right in his own backyard, where,you tell me, he once made a craft in which he tried to beat you out inthe trip to Alaska, when you think of that, doesn't it seem reasonablethat he'd use that same building in which to make his new craft?"

"Yes, it does," admitted Tom slowly, "but then everybody says he's outof town."

"Well, what everybody says is generally not so. I think you'll findthat Andy is keeping himself in seclusion, and that he's workingsecretly in his shop, building a machine with which to beat you."

"Do you, really?"

"I certainly do. Have you been around his place lately?"

"No. I've been too busy; and then I never have much to do with him."

"Then take my advice, and see if you can't get a look inside that shop.You may see something that will surprise you. If you find that Andy isinfringing on your patented ideas, you can stop him by an injunction.You've got this model patented, I take it?"

"Oh, yes. I didn't have at the time the plans were stolen, but I'vepatented it since. I could get at him that way."

"Then take my advice, and do it. Get a look inside that shed, andyou'll find Andy working secretly there, no matter if his cronies dothink he's out of town."

"I believe I will," agreed Tom, and somehow he felt better now that hehad decided on a plan of action. He and the balloonist talked over atsome length just the best way to go about it, for the young inventorrecalled the time when he and Ned Newton had endeavored to look intoAndy's shed, with somewhat disastrous results to themselves; but Tomknew that the matter at stake justified a risk, and he was willing totake it.

"Well, now that's settled," said Mr. Sharp, "tell me more aboutyourself and your aeroplane. My! To think that the Red Cloud wasdestroyed! That was a fine craft."

"Indeed she was," agreed Tom. "I'm going to make another on similarlines, some day, but now all my time is occupied with the Humming-Bird."

"She is a hummer, too," complimented Mr. Sharp. "But I almost forgotthe real object of my trip here. There is no doubt about you going inthe race, is there?"

"I fully expect to," replied Tom. "The only thing that will prevent mewill be—"

"Don't say you're worried on account of what Andy Foger may do,"interrupted Mr. Sharp.

"I'm not. I'll attend to Andy, all right. I was going to say that myfather's illness might interfere. He's not well at all. I'm quiteworried about him."

"Oh, I sincerely hope he'll be all right," remarked the balloonist. "Wewant you in this race. In fact, we're going to feature you, as they sayabout the actors and story-writers. The committee is planning to doconsiderable advertising on the strength of Tom Swift, the well-knownyoung inventor, being a contestant for the ten-thousand-dollar prize."

"That's very nice, I'm sure," replied Tom, "and I'm going to do mybest. Perhaps dad will take a turn for the better. He wants me to winas much as I want to myself. Well, we'll not worry about it, anyhow,until the time comes. I want to show you some new features of my latestaeroplane."

"And I want to see them, Tom. Don't you think you're making a mistake,though, in equipping it with a wireless outfit?"

"Why so?"

"Well, because it will add to the weight, and you want such a smallmachine to be as light as possible."

"Yes, but you see I have a very light engine. That part my fatherhelped me with. In fact, it is the lightest air-cooled motor made, forthe amount of horsepower it develops, so I can afford to put on theextra weight of the wireless outfit. I may need to signal when I amflying along at a hundred miles an hour."

"That's so. Well, show me some of the other good points. You'vecertainly got a wonderful craft here."

Tom and Mr. Sharp spent some time going over the Humming-Bird and intalking over old times. The balloonist paid another visit to Mr. Swift,who was feeling pretty good, and who expressed his pleasure in seeinghis old friend again.

"Can't you stay for a few days?" asked Tom, when Mr. Sharp was about toleave. "If you wait long enough you may be able to help me work up theclues against Andy Foger, and also witness a trial flight of theHumming-Bird."

"I'd like to stay, but I can't," was the answer. "The committee will beanxious for me to get back with my report. Good luck to you. I'll seeyou at the time of the race, if not before."

Tom resolved to get right to work seeking clues against his old enemy,Andy, but the next day Mr. Swift was not so well, and Tom had to remainin the house. Then followed several days, during which time it wasnecessary to do some important work on his craft, and so a week passedwithout any information having been obtained.

In the meanwhile Tom had made some cautious inquiries, but had learnednothing about Andy. He had no chance to interview Pete or Sam, the twocronies, and he did not think it wise to make a bald request forinformation at the Foger home.

Ned Newton could not be of any aid to his friend, as he was kept busyin the bank night and day, working over a new set of books.

"I wonder how I can find out what I want to know?" mused Tom oneafternoon, when he had done considerable work on the Humming-Bird. "Icertainly ought to do it soon, so as to be able to stop Andy if he'sinfringing on my patents. Yet, I don't see how—"

His thoughts were interrupted by hearing a voice outside the shop,exclaiming:

"Bless my toothpick! I know the way, Eradicate, my good fellow. Itisn't necessary for you to come. As long as Tom Swift is out there,I'll find him. Bless my horizontal rudder! I'm anxious to see whatprogress he's made. I'll find him, if he's about!"

"Yes, sah, he's right in dere," spoke the colored man. "He's workin' ondat Dragon Fly of his." Eradicate did not always get his names right.

"Mr. Damon!" exclaimed Tom in delight, at the sound of his friend'svoice. "I believe he can help me get evidence against Andy Foger. Iwonder I didn't think of it before! The very thing! I'll do it!"

Chapter Eight

The Empty Shed

"Bless my dark-lantern! Where are you, Tom?" called Mr. Damon as heentered the dim shed where the somewhat frail-appearing aeroplaneloomed up in the semi-darkness, for it was afternoon, and rathercloudy. "Where are you?"

"Here!" called the young inventor. "I'm glad to see you! Come in!"

"Ah! there it is, eh?" exclaimed the odd man, as he looked at theaeroplane, for there had been much work done on it since he had lastseen it. "Bless my parachute, Tom! But it looks as though you couldblow it over."

"It's stronger than it seems," replied the lad. "But, Mr. Damon, I'vegot something very important to talk to you about."

Thereupon Tom told all about Mr. Sharp's visit, of Andy's entry in thebig race, and of the suspicions of himself and the balloonist.

"And what is it you wish me to do?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Work up some clues against Andy Foger."

"Good! I'll do it! I'd like to get ahead of that bully and his father,who once tried to wreck the bank I'm interested in. I'll help you, Tom!I'll play detective! Let me see—what disguise shall I assume? I thinkI'll take the part of a tramp. Bless my ham sandwich! That will be thevery thing. I'll get some ragged clothes, let my beard grow again—yousee I shaved it off since my last visit—and I'll go around to theFoger place and ask for work. Then I can get inside the shed and lookaround. How's that for a plan?"

"It might be all right," agreed Tom, "only I don't believe you're cutout for the part of a tramp, Mr. Damon."

"Bless my fingernails! Why not?"

"Oh, well, it isn't very pleasant to go around in ragged clothes."

"Don't mind about me. I'll do it." And the odd gentleman seemed quitedelighted at the idea. He and Tom talked it over at some length, andthen adjourned to the house, where Mr. Swift, who had seemed to improvein the last few days, was told of the plan.

"Couldn't you go around after evidence just as you are?" asked the agedinventor. "I don't much care for this disguising business."

"Oh, it's very necessary," insisted Mr. Damon earnestly. "Bless mygizzard! but it's very necessary. Why, if I went around the Foger placeas I am now, they'd know me in a minute, and I couldn't find out what Iwant to know."

"Well, if you keep on blessing yourself," said Tom, with a laugh,"they'll know you, no matter what disguise you put on, Mr. Damon."

"That's so," admitted the eccentric gentleman. "I must break myself ofthat habit. I will. Bless my topknot! I'll never do it any more. Blessmy trousers buttons!"

"I'm afraid you'll never do it!" exclaimed Tom.

"It is rather hard," said Mr. Damon ruefully, as he realized what hehad said. "But I'll do it. Bless—"

He paused a moment, looked at Tom and his father, and then burst into alaugh. The habit was more firmly fastened on him than he was aware.

For several hours Tom, his father and Mr. Damon discussed variousmethods of proceeding, and it was finally agreed that Mr. Damon shouldfirst try to learn what Andy was doing, if anything, without resortingto a disguise.

"Then, if that doesn't work, I'll become a tramp," was the decision ofthe odd character. "I'll wear the raggedest clothes I can find Bless—"But he stopped in time.

Mr. Damon took up his residence in the Swift household, as he had oftendone before, and for the next week he went and came as he pleased,sometimes being away all night.

"It's no use, though," declared Mr. Damon at the end of the week. "Ican't get anywhere near that shed, nor even get a glimpse inside of it.I haven't been able to learn anything, either. There are two gardenerson guard all the while, and several times when I've tried to go in theside gate, they've stopped me."

"Isn't there any news of Andy about town?" asked Tom. "I should thinkSam or Pete would know where he is."

"Well, I didn't ask them, for they'd know right away why I wasinquiring," said Mr. Damon, "but it seems to me as if there wassomething queer going on. If Andy Foger is working in that shed of his,he's keeping mighty quiet about it. Bless my—"

And once more he stopped in time. He was conquering the habit in ameasure.

"Well, what do you propose to do next?" asked Tom.

"Disguise myself like a tramp, and go there looking for work," was thefirm answer. "There are plenty of odd jobs on a big place such as theFoger family have. I'll find out what I want to know, you see."

It seemed useless to further combat this resolution, and, in a few daysMr. Damon presented a very different appearance. He had on a mostragged suit, there was a scrubby beard on his face, and he walked witha curious shuffle, caused by a pair of big, heavy shoes which he haddonned, first having taken the precaution to make holes in them and getthem muddy.

"Now I'm all ready," he said to Tom one day, when his disguise wascomplete. "I'm going over and try my luck."

He left the house by a side door, so that no one would see him, andstarted down the walk. As he did so a voice shouted:

"Hi, there! Git right out oh heah! Mistah Swift doan't allow no trampsheah, an' we ain't got no wuk fo' yo', an' there ain't no coldvictuals. I does all de wuk, me an' mah mule Boomerang, an' we takesall de cold victuals, too! Git right along, now!"

"It's Eradicate. He doesn't know you," said Tom, with a chuckle.

"So much the better," whispered Mr. Damon. But the disguise provedalmost too much of a success, for seeing the supposed tramp lingeringnear the house, Eradicate caught up a stout stick and rushed forward.He was about to strike the ragged man, when Tom called out:

"That's Mr. Damon, Rad!"

"Wh—what!" gasped the colored man; and when the situation had beenexplained to him, and the necessity for silence impressed upon him, heturned away, too surprised to utter a word. He sought consolation inthe stable with his mule.

Just what methods Mr. Damon used he never disclosed, but one thing iscertain: That night there came a cautious knock on the door of theSwift home, and Tom, answering it, beheld his odd friend.

"Well," he asked eagerly, "what luck?"

"Put on a suit of old clothes, and come with me," said Mr. Damon."We'll look like two tramps, and then, if we're discovered, they won'tknow it was you."

"Have you found out anything?" asked Tom eagerly.

"Not yet; but I've got a key to one of the side doors of the shed, andwe can get in as soon as it's late enough so that everybody there willbe in bed."

"A key? How did you get it?" inquired the youth.

"Never mind," was the answer, with a chuckle. "That was because of mydisguise; and I haven't blessed anything to-day. I'm going to, soon,though. I can feel it coming on. But hurry, Tom, or we may be too late."

"And you haven't had a look inside the shed?" asked the young inventor."You don't know what's there?"

"No; but we soon will."

Eagerly Tom put on some of the oldest and most ragged garments he couldfind, and then he and the odd gentleman set off toward the Foger home.They waited some time after getting in sight of it, because they saw alight in one of the windows. Then, when the house was dark, they stolecautiously forward toward the big, gloomy shed.

"On this side," directed Mr. Damon in a whisper. "The key I have opensthis door."

"But we can't see when we get inside," objected Tom. "I should havebrought a dark lantern."

"I have one of those pocket electric flashlights," said Mr. Damon."Bless my candlestick! but I thought of that." And he chuckledgleefully.

Cautiously they advanced in the darkness. Mr. Damon fumbled at the lockof the door. The key grated as he turned it. The portal swung back, andTom and his friend found themselves inside the shed which, of late, hadbeen such an object of worry and conjecture to the young inventor. Whatwould he find there?

"Flash the light," he called to Mr. Damon in a hoarse whisper.

The eccentric man drew it from his packet. He pressed the spring switch,and in an instant a brilliant shaft of radiance shot out, cutting theintense blackness like a knife. Mr. Damon flashed it on all sides.

But to the amazement of Tom and his companion, it did not illuminatethe broad white wings and stretches of canvas of an aeroplane. It onlyshone on the bare walls of the shed, and on some piles of rubbish inthe corners. Up and down, to right and left, shot the pencil of light.

"There's—there's nothing here!" gasped Tom.

"I—I guess you're right!" agreed Mr. Damon "The shed is empty!"

"Then where is Andy Foger building his aeroplane?" asked Tom in awhisper; but Mr. Damon could not answer him.

Chapter Nine

A Trial Flight

For a few moments after their exclamations of surprise Tom and Mr.Damon did not know what else to say. They stared about in amazement,hardly able to believe that the shed could be empty. They had expectedto see some form of aeroplane in it, and Tom was almost sure his eyeswould meet a reproduction of his Humming-Bird, made from the stolenplans.

"Can it be possible there's nothing here?" went on Tom, after a longpause. He could not seem to believe it.

"Evidently not," answered Mr. Damon, as he advanced toward the centerof the big building and flashed the light on all sides. "You can seefor yourself."

"Or, rather, you can't see," spoke the youth. "It isn't here, that'ssure. You can't stick an aeroplane, even as small a one as my HummingBird, in a corner. No; it isn't here."

"Well, we'll have to look further," went on Mr. Damon. "I think—"

But a sudden noise near the big main doors of the shed interrupted him.

"Come on!" exclaimed Tom in a whisper. "Some one's coming! They may seeus! Let's get out!"

Mr. Damon released the pressure on the spring switch, and the lightwent out. After waiting a moment to let their eyes become accustomed tothe darkness, he and Tom stole to the door by which they had entered.As they swung it cautiously open they again heard the noise near themain portals by which Andy had formerly taken in and out the Anthony,as he had named the aeroplane in which he and his father went toAlaska, where, like Tom's craft, it was wrecked.

"Some one is coming in!" whispered Tom.

Hardly had he spoken when a light shone in the direction of the sound.The illumination came from a big lantern of the ordinary kind, carriedby some one who had just entered the shed.

"Can you see who it is?" whispered Mr. Damon, peering eagerly forward;too eagerly, for his foot struck against the wooden side wall with aloud bang.

"Who's there?" suddenly demanded the person carrying the lantern.

He raised it high above his head, in order to cast the gleams into allthe distant corners. As he did so a ray of light fell upon his face."Andy Foger!" gasped Tom in a hoarse whisper.

Andy must have heard, for he ran forward just as Tom and Mr. Damonslipped out.

"Hold on! Who are you?" came in the unmistakable tones of thered-haired bully.

"I don't think we're going to tell," chuckled Tom softly, as he and hisfriend sped off into the darkness. They were not followed, and as theylooked back they could see a light bobbing about in the shed.

"He's looking for us!" exclaimed Mr. Damon with an inward laugh. "Blessmy watch chain! But it's a good thing we got in ahead of him. Are yousure it was Andy himself?"

"Sure! I'd know his face anywhere. But I can't understand it. Where hashe been? What is he doing? Where is he building his aeroplane? Ithought he was out of town."

"He may have come back to-night," said Mr. Damon. "That's the only oneof your questions I can answer. We'll have to wait about the rest, I'msure he wasn't around the house to-day, though, for I was working atweeding the flower beds, in my disguise as a tramp, and if he was homeI'd have seen him. He must have just come back, and he went out to hisshed to get something. Well, we did the best we could."

"Indeed we did," agreed Tom, "and I'm ever so much obliged to you, Mr.Damon."

"And we'll try again, when we get more clues. Bless my shoelaces! butit's a relief to be able to talk as you like."

And forthwith the eccentric man began to call down so many blessings onhimself and on his belongings, no less than on his friends, that Tomlaughingly warned him that he had better save some for another time.

The two reached home safely, removed their "disguises," and told Mr.Swift of the result of their trip. He agreed with them that there was amystery about Andy's aeroplane which was yet to be solved.

But Tom was glad to find that, at any rate, the craft was not beingmade in Shopton, and during the next two weeks he devoted all his timeto finishing his own machine. Mr. Jackson was a valuable assistant, andMr. Damon gave what aid he could.

"Well, I think I'll be ready for a trial flight in another week," saidTom one day, as he stepped back to get a view of the almost completedHumming-Bird.

"Shall you want a passenger?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Yes, I wish you would take a chance with me. I could use a bag ofsand, not that I mean you are to be compared to that," added Tomquickly, "but I'd rather have a real person, in order to test thebalancing apparatus. Yes, we'll make a trial trip together."

In the following few days Tom went carefully over the aeroplane, makingsome slight changes, strengthening it here and there, and testing themotor thoroughly. It seemed to work perfectly.

At length the day of the trial came, and the Humming-Bird was wheeledout of the shed. In spite of the fact that it was practically finished,there yet remained much to do on it. It was not painted or decorated,and looked rather crude. But what Tom wanted to know was how it wouldfly, what control he had over it, what speed it could make, and how itbalanced. For it was, at best, very frail, and the least change inequilibrium might be fatal.

Before taking his place in the operator's seat Tom started the motor,and by means of a spring balance tested the thrust of the propellers.It was satisfactory, though he knew that when the engine had been runfor some time, and had warmed up, it would do much better.

"All ready, I guess, Mr. Damon!" he called, and the odd gentleman tookhis place. Tom got up into his own seat, in front of several wheels andlevers by which he operated the craft.

"Start the propeller!" he requested of Mr. Jackson, and soon the motorwas spitting fire, while the big, fan-like blades were whirring aroundlike wings of light. The engineer and Eradicate were holding back theHumming-Bird.

"Let her go!" cried Tom as he turned on more gasoline and furtheradvanced the spark of the motor. The roar increased, the propellerlooked like a solid circle of wood, and the trim little monoplane movedslowly across the rising ground, increasing its speed every second,until, like some graceful bird, it suddenly rose in the air as Tomtilted the wing tips, and soared splendidly aloft!

Chapter Ten

A Midnight Intruder

Tom Swift sent his wonderful little craft upward on a gentle slant.Higher and higher it rose above the ground. Now it topped the trees;now it was well over them.

On the earth below stood Mr. Swift, Mr. Jackson, Eradicate and Mrs.Baggert. They were the only witnesses of the trial flight, and as theaged inventor saw his son's latest design in aeroplanes circling in theair he gave a cheer of delight. It was too feeble for Tom to hear, butthe lad, glancing down, saw his father waving his hand to him.

"Dear old dad!" thought Tom, waving in return. "I hope he's well enoughto see me win the big prize."

Tom and Mr. Damon went skimming easily through the air, at no greatspeed, to be sure, for the young inventor did not want to put toosudden a strain on his motor.

"This is glorious!" cried the odd gentleman. "I never shall have enoughof aeroplaning, Tom!"

"Nor I, either," added his companion. "But how do you like it? Don'tyou think it's an improvement on my Butterfly, Mr. Damon?"

"It certainly is. You're a wonder, Tom! Look out! What are you up to?"for the machine had suddenly swerved in a startling manner.

"Oh, that's just a new kind of spiral dip I was trying," answered Tom."I couldn't do that with my other machine, for I couldn't turn sharpenough."

"Well, don't do it right away again," begged Mr. Damon, who had turneda little white, and whose breath was coming in gasps, even though hewas used to hair-raising stunts in the frail craft of the air.

Tom did not take his machine far away, for he did not want to exhibitit to the public yet, and he preferred to remain in the vicinity of hishome, in case of any accident. So he circled around, did figures ofeight, went up and down on long slants, took sharp turns, and gave thecraft a good tryout.

"Does it satisfy you?" asked Mr. Damon, when Tom had once more made thespiral dip, but not at high speed.

"In a way, yes," was the answer. "I see a chance for several changesand improvements. Of course, I know nothing about the speed yet, andthat's something that I'm anxious about, for I built this with the ideaof breaking all records, and nothing else. I know, now, that I canconstruct a craft that will successfully navigate the air; in fact,there are any number of people who can do that; but to construct amonoplane that will beat anything ever before made is a differentthing. I don't yet know that I have done it."

"When will you?"

"Oh, when I make some changes, get the motor tuned up better, and lether out for all she's worth. I want to do a hundred miles an hour, atleast. I'll arrange for a speedy flight in about two weeks more."

"Then I think I will stay home," said Mr. Damon.

"No; I'll need you," insisted Tom, laughing. "Now watch. I'm going tolet her out just a little."

He did, with the result that they skimmed through the air so fast thatMr. Damon's breath became a mere series of gasps.

"We'll have to wear goggles and mouth protectors when we really gofast!" yelled Tom above the noise of the motor, as he slowed down andturned about for home.

"Go fast! Wasn't that fast?" asked Mr. Damon.

Tom shook his head.

"You wait, and you'll see," he announced.

They made a good landing, and Mr. Swift hastened up to congratulate hisson.

"I knew you could do it, Tom!" he cried.

"I couldn't, though, if it hadn't been for that wonderful engine ofyours, dad! How do you feel?"

"Pretty good. Oh! but that's a fine machine, Tom!"

"It certainly is," agreed Mr. Jackson.

"It will be when I have it in better trim," admitted the young inventormodestly.

"By golly!" cried Eradicate, who was grinning almost from ear to ear,"I's proud oh yo', Massa Tom, an' so will mah mule Boomerang be, when Itells him. Yes, sah, dat's what he will be—proud ob yo', Massa Tom!"

"Thanks, Rad."

"Well, some folks is satisfied with mighty little under 'em, when theygo up in the air, that's my opinion," said Mrs. Baggert.

"Why, wouldn't you ride in this?" asked Tom of the buxom housekeeper.

"Not if you was to give me ten thousand dollars!" she cried firmly."Oh, dear! I think the potatoes are burning!" And she rushed back intothe house.

The next day Tom started to work overhauling the Humming-Bird, andmaking some changes. He altered the wing tips slightly, and adjustedthe motor, until in a thrust test it developed nearly half again asmuch power as formerly.

"And I'll need it all," declared Tom as he thought of the number ofcontestants that had entered the great race.

For the Eagle Park meet was to be a large and important one, and theprincipal "bird-men" of the world were to have a part in it. Tom knewthat he must do his very best, and he spared no efforts to make hismonoplane come up to his ideal, which was a very exacting one.

"We'll have a real speed test to-morrow," Tom announced to Mr. Damonone night. "I'll see what the Humming-Bird can really do. You'll come,won't you?"

"Oh, I suppose so. Bless my insurance policy! I might as well take thesame chance you do. But if you're going to have such a nerve-rackingthing as that on the program, you'd better get to bed early and haveplenty of sleep."

"Oh, I'm not tired. I think I'll go out this evening."

"Where?"

"Oh, just around town, to see some of the fellows." But if Tom was onlygoing around town merely to see his male friends, why did he dress socarefully, put on a new necktie, and take several looks in the glassbefore he went out? We think you can guess, and also the girl's name.

The young inventor got in rather late, and after a visit to theaeroplane shed, to see that all was right there, he went to bed, firstconnecting up the burglar-alarm wires that guarded the doors andwindows of the aerodrome.

How long he had been asleep Tom did not know, but he was suddenlyawakened by hearing the buzzing of the alarm at the head of his bed. Atfirst he took it for the droning and humming of the aeroplane motor, ashe had a hazy notion, and a sort of dream, that he was in his craft.

Then, with a start, he realized what it was—the burglar alarm.

"Some one's in the shed!" he gasped.

Out of bed he leaped, drawing on his trousers and coat, and putting ona pair of slippers, with speed worthy of a fireman. He grabbed up arevolver and rushed from his room, pounding on the door of Mr.Jackson's apartment in passing.

"Some one in the shed, after the Humming-Bird!" shouted Tom. "Get agun, and come down!"

Chapter Eleven

Tom Is Hurt

As Tom passed down the hall on his way to the side door, from which hecould more quickly reach the aeroplane shed, he saw his father comingfrom his room.

"What's the matter? What is it?" asked Mr. Swift, and alarm showed onhis pale face.

"It's nothing much, dad," said the youth, as quietly as he could, forhe realized that to excite his father might have a bad effect on theinvalid.

"Then why are you in such a hurry? Why have you that revolver? I knowthere is something wrong, Tom. I am going to help you!"

In his father's present weakened state Tom desired this least of all,so he said:

"Now, never mind, dad. I thought I heard a noise out in the yard, andI'm not going to take any chances. So I roused Mr. Jackson, and I'mgoing down to see what it is. Perhaps it may only be Eradicate's mule,Boomerang, kicking around, or it may be Rad himself, or some one afterhis chickens. Don't worry. Mr. Jackson and I can attend to it. You goback to bed, father."

Tom spoke with such assurance that Mr. Swift believed him, and retiredto his room, just as the engineer, partly dressed, came hurrying out inresponse to Tom's summons. He had his rifle, and, had the invalidinventor seen that, he surely would have worried more.

"Come on!" whispered Tom. "Don't make any noise. I don't want to excitemy father."

"What was it?" asked the engineer.

"I don't know. Burglar alarm went off, that's all I can say until weget to the shed."

Together the two left the house softly, and soon were hurrying towardthe aeroplane shed.

"Look!" exclaimed Mr. Jackson. "Didn't you see a light just then, Tom?"

"Where?"

"By the side window of the shed?"

"No, I didn't notice it! Oh, yes! There it is! Some one is in there! Ifit's Andy Foger, I'll have him arrested, sure!"

"Maybe we can't catch him."

"That's so. Andy is a pretty slippery customer. Say, Mr. Jackson, yougo around and get Eradicate, and have him bring a club. We can't trusthim with a gun. Tell him to get at the back door, and I'll wait for youto join me, and we'll go in the front door. Then we'll have 'em betweentwo fires. They can't get away."

"How about the windows?"

"They're high up, and hard to open since I put the new catches on them.Whoever got in must have forced the lock of the door. There goes thelight again!"

As Tom spoke there was seen the faint glimmer of a light. It movedslowly about the interior of the shed, and with a peculiar bobbingmotion, which indicated that some one was carrying it.

"Go for Eradicate, and don't make any more noise than you can help inwaking him up," whispered Tom, for they were now close to the shed, andmight be heard.

Mr. Jackson slipped off in the darkness, and Tom drew nearer to thebuilding that housed his Humming-Bird. There was one window lower thanthe others, and near it was a box, that Tom remembered having seen thatafternoon. He planned to get up on that and look in, before making araid to capture the intruder.

Tom raised himself up to the window. The light had been visible amoment before he placed the box in position, but an instant later itseemed to go out, and the place was in darkness.

"I wonder if they've gone away?" thought Tom. "I can't hear any noise."

He listened intently. It was dark and silent in the shop. Suddenly thelight flashed up brighter than before, and the young inventor caughtsight of a man walking around the new aeroplane, examining itcarefully. He carried, as Tom could see, a large-sized electricflash-lamp, with a brilliant tungsten filament, which gave a powerfullight.

As the youth watched, he saw the intruder place the light on a bench,in such a position that the rays fell full upon the Humming-Bird. Then,adjusting the spring switch so that the light would continue to glow,the man stepped back and drew something from an inner pocket.

"I wonder what he's up to?" mused Tom. "I wish Eradicate and Mr.Jackson would hurry back. Who can that fellow be, I wonder? I've neverseen him before, as far as I know. I thought sure it was going to turnout to be Andy Foger!"

Tom turned around to look into the dark yard surrounding the shed. Hewas anxious to hear the approach of his two allies, but there was nosound of their footsteps.

As he turned back to watch the man he could not repress a cry of alarm,for what the intruder had drawn from his pocket was a small hatchet,and he was advancing with it toward the Humming-Bird!

"He's going to destroy my aeroplane!" gasped Tom, and he raised hisrevolver to fire.

He did not intend to shoot at the man, but only to fire to scare him,and thus hasten the coming of Mr. Jackson and the colored man. Butthere was no need of this, for an instant later the two came running upsilently, Eradicate with a big club.

"Whar am he?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. "Let me git at him, MassaTom!"

"Hush!" exclaimed the young inventor. "We have no time to lose! He's inthere, getting ready to chop my aeroplane to bits! Go to the back door,Rad, and if he tries to come out don't let him get away."

"I won't!" declared the colored man emphatically, and he shook his clubsuggestively.

"Come on! We'll go in the front door," whispered Tom to the engineer."I have the key. We'll catch him red-handed, and hand him over to thepolice."

Waiting a few seconds, to enable Eradicate to get to his place, Tom andthe engineer stole softly toward the big double doors. Every moment theyouth expected to hear the crash of the hatchet on his prize machine.He shivered in anticipation, but the blows did not fall.

Tom pushed open the door and stepped inside, followed by Mr. Jackson.As they did so they saw the man standing in front of the Humming-Bird.He again raised the little hatchet, which was like an Indian tomahawk,and poised it for an instant over the delicate framework and planes ofthe air craft. Then his arm began to descend.

"Stop!" yelled Tom, and at the same time he fired in the air.

The man turned as suddenly as though a bullet had struck him, and for amoment Tom was afraid lest he had hit him by accident; but an instantlater the intruder grabbed up his flashlight, and holding it beforehim, so that its rays shone full on Tom and Mr. Jackson, while it lefthim in the shadow, sprang toward them, the hatchet still in his hand.

"Look out, Tom!" cried Mr. Jackson.

"Out of my way!" shouted the man.

Bravely Tom stood his ground. He wished now that he had a club insteadof his revolver. The would-be vandal was almost upon him. Mr. Jacksonclubbed his rifle and swung it at the fellow. The latter dodged, andcame straight at Tom.

"Look out!" yelled the engineer again, but it was too late. There wasthe sound of a blow, and Tom went down like a log. Then the place wasin darkness, and the sound of footsteps in rapid flight could be heardoutside the shed.

The intruder, after wounding the young inventor, had made his escape.

Chapter Twelve

Miss Nestor Calls

"What's de mattah? Shall I come in? Am anybody hurted?" yelledEradicate Sampson as he pounded on the rear door of the aeroplane shed."Let me in, Massa Tom!"

"All right! Wait a minute! I'm coming!" called Mr. Jackson. He tried topeer through the darkness, to where a huddled heap indicated thepresence of Tom. Then he thought of the electric lights, which were runby a storage battery when the dynamo was shut down, and a moment laterthe engineer had switched on the incandescents, filling the big shedwith 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 coloredman 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 wasquicker to open it than to send Eradicate away around the shed to thefront portals.

"Whar am he?" gasped the faithful darky, as he took a firmer grasp ofhis 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 afraidhe's badly hurt."

They hastened to the unconscious lad. On one side of his head was a badcut, which was bleeding freely.

"Oh! he's daid! I know he's daid!" wailed Eradicate.

"Not a bit of it. He isn't dead, but he may die, if we don't get himinto the house, and have a doctor here soon," said Mr. Jackson sternly."Catch hold of him, Rad, and, mind, don't carry on, and get excited,and scare Mr. Swift. Just pretend it isn't very bad, or we'll have twopatients on our hands instead of only Tom."

They managed to get the youth into the house, and, contrary to theirfears, Mr. Swift was not nearly so nervous as they had expected. Calmlyhe took charge of matters, and even telephoned for Dr. Gladby himself,while Mr. Jackson and Eradicate undressed Tom and got him to bed. Mrs.Baggert busied herself heating water and getting things in readinessfor the doctor, who had promised to come at once.

Tom was just regaining consciousness when the physician came in, havingdriven over at top speed.

"What—what happened? Did the Humming-Bird fall?" asked Tom in awhisper, putting his hand to his head.

"No, something fell on you, I guess," said the doctor, who had beenhurriedly told of the circumstances. "But don't worry, Tom. You'll beall right in a few days. You got a bad cut on the head, but the skullisn't fractured, I'm glad to say. Here, now, just drink this," and hegave Tom some medicine he had mixed in a glass.

The cut was soon dressed, and Tom felt much better, though weak and atrifle dizzy.

"Did he hit me with the hatchet?" he asked Mr. Jackson.

"I couldn't tell," was the engineer's reply, "it all happened soquickly. In another instant I'd have bowled him over, instead of himlanding on you, but I just missed him. He either used the hatchet, orsome blunt instrument."

"Well, don't talk about it now," urged the doctor. "I want Tom to getquiet and go to sleep. He'll be much better in the morning, but I mustforbid any aeroplane flights." And he shook his finger at Tom inwarning. "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. Gladby of Mr. Jackson, ashe prepared to leave.

"Not the slightest. It was no one Tom or I had ever seen before. Butwhoever it was, he intended to destroy the Humming-Bird, that wasevident!"

"The scoundrel! I'm glad you foiled him in time; but it's too bad aboutTom. However, we'll soon have him all right again."

"I knows who done it!" broke in Eradicate, who was a sort of privilegedcharacter about the Swift home.

"Who?" asked Mr. Jackson.

"It were dat Andy Foger. Leastways, he send dat man heah t' makemincemeat oh de Hummin'-Bird. I's positib 'bout dat, so I am!" AndEradicate grinned triumphantly.

"Well, perhaps Andy did have a hand in it," admitted Mr. Swift, "but wehave no proof of it, I can't see what his object would be in wanting todestroy Tom's new craft."

"Pure meanness. Afraid that Tom will beat him in the race," suggestedMr. Jackson.

"It's too big a risk to take," went on the aged inventor. "I'm inclinedto think it might be one of the gang of men who made the diamonds inthe cave in the mountains. They might have sent a spy on East, and hemight try to damage the aeroplane to be revenged for what Tom and Mr.Jenks did to them."

"It's possible," agreed the engineer. "Well, we'll wait until Tom cantalk, and we'll go over it with him."

"Not until he is stronger, though," stipulated the physician as he wentaway. "Don't excite Tom for a few days."

The young inventor was much better the following day, and when Dr.Gladby called he said Tom could sit up for a little while. Two dayslater Tom was well enough to be talked to, and his father and Mr.Jackson went over all the details of the matter. Mr. Damon, who hadreturned home, came to see his friend as soon as he heard of hisplight, and was also a member of the consulting party.

"Bless my dictionary!" exclaimed the eccentric man. "I wish I had beenhere to take a hand in it. But, Tom, do you believe it was one of thediamond-making gang?"

"I hardly think so," was the reply. "They would take some other meansof revenge than by destroying my new aeroplane. I'm inclined to thinkit was some one who is in with Andy Foger."

"Then we'll hire detectives, and locate him and them," declared Mr.Damon, blessing several things in succession.

Tom, however, did not like that plan, and it was decided to do nothingright away. In another few days Tom was able to be up, though he wasstill a semi-invalid, not venturing out of the house.

It was one afternoon, when, rather tired of his confinement, he waswishing he could resume work on his air craft, that Mrs. Baggert camein, and said:

"Some one to see you, Tom."

"Is it Mr. Damon?"

"No, it's a lady. She—"

"Oh, Tom! How are you?" cried a girlish voice, and Mary Nestor walkedinto the room, holding out both hands to the young inventor. Tom, witha blush, arose hastily.

"No! no! Sit still!" commanded the girl. "Oh! I'm so sorry to hearabout your accident! In fact, I only heard this morning. We've beenaway, mamma and I, and we just got back. Tell me all about it, that is,if you feel able. But don't exert yourself. Oh! I wish I had hold ofthat man!"

And Miss Nestor clenched her two pretty little hands and set her white,even teeth grimly together, as though she would do most desperatethings indeed.

"I wish you did, too!" exclaimed Tom. "That is, so you could hold himuntil I had a chance at him. But I'm all right now. It was very good ofyou to call. How are you, and how are your folks?"

"Very well. But I came to hear about you. Tell me," and she lookedanxiously at Tom, while Mrs. Baggert discreetly withdrew to theadjoining room, and made a great noise, rattling papers and movingchairs about.

Thereupon Tom told what had happened, while Mary Nestor listenedinterestedly and with expressions of fear at times.

"But if Andy had anything to do with it," concluded Tom, "I can'tunderstand what his object is. Andy is acting very strangely lately. Wecan't locate him, nor find out where he is building his airship. That'swhat I want to know; but Mr. Damon and I, after a lot of trouble, onlyfound his aeroplane shed empty."

"And you want to find out where Andy Foger is building his aeroplanewhich he has entered in the big race?" asked Miss Nestor.

"That's what I'd like to know," declared Tom earnestly. "Only we can'tseem to do it. No one knows."

"Why don't you write to Mr. Sharp, or some one of the aviation meetcommittee?" asked the girl simply. "They would know, for you say Andymade his formal entry with them, and the rules require him to tell fromwhat city and State he will enter his craft. Write to the committee,Tom."

For a moment the young inventor stared at her. Then he banged his fistdown on the arm of his chair.

"By Jove, Mary! That's the very thing!" he cried. "I wonder why I neverthought of that, instead of fiddling around in disguises, and thingslike that? I wonder why I never thought of that plan?"

"Perhaps because it was so simple," she answered, with a pretty blush.

"I guess that's it," agreed Tom. "It takes a woman to jump across abridge to a conclusion every time. I'll write to Mr. Sharp at once."

Chapter Thirteen

A Clash with Andy

Tom lost no time in writing to Mr. Sharp. He wondered more and more athis own neglect in not before having asked the balloonist, when thelatter was in Shopton, where Andy was building his aeroplane. But, asit developed later, Mr. Sharp did not know at that time.

While waiting for a reply to his letter, Tom busied himself about hisown craft, making several changes he had decided on. He also began topaint and decorate it, for he wanted to have the Humming-Bird present aneat appearance when she was officially entered in the great race.

Miss Nestor called on Tom again, and Mr. Damon was a frequent visitor.He agreed to accompany Tom to the aviation park when it was time forthe race, and also to be a passenger in the ten-thousand-dollar contest.

"It must be perfectly wonderful to fly through the air," said MissNestor one day, when Tom and Mr. Damon had the Humming-Bird out on thetesting ground, trying the engine, which had been keyed up to a higherpitch of speed. "I consider it perfectly marvelous, and I can't imaginehow it must seem to skim along that way."

"Come and try it," urged Tom suddenly. "There's not a bit of danger.Really there isn't."

"Oh! I'd never dare do it!" replied the girl, with a gasp. "Thatmachine is too swift by name and swift by nature for me."

"Why don't you take Miss Nestor on a grass-cutting flight, Tom?"suggested Mr. Damon. "Bless my lawn mower! but she wouldn't befrightened at that."

"Grass cutting?" repeated the girl. "What in the world does that mean?"

"It means skimming along a few feet up in the air," answered the younginventor, who had now fully recovered from the effects of the blowgiven him by the midnight intruder. In spite of many inquiries, noclues to his identity had been obtained.

"How high do you go when you 'cut grass,' as you call it?" asked MissNestor, and Tom thought he detected a note of eager curiosity in hervoice.

"Not high at all," he said. "In fact, sometimes I do cut off the topsof tall daisies. Come, Mary! Won't you try that? I know you'll like it,and when you've been over the lawn a few times you'll be ready for ahigh flight. Come! there's no danger."

"I—I almost believe I will," she said hesitatingly. "Will you take medown when I want to come?"

"Of course," said Tom. "Get in, and we'll start."

The Humming-Bird was all ready for a trial flight, and Tom was glad ofthe chance to test it, especially with such a pretty passenger as wasMiss Nestor.

"Bless my shoelaces!" cried Mr. Damon. "I can see where I am going tobe cut out, Tom Swift. I'll not get many more rides with you now thatMiss Nestor is taking to aeroplaning, you young rascal!" And heplayfully shook his finger at Tom.

"Oh, I don't expect to get enthusiastic over it," said Miss Nestor,who, now that she had taken her place in one of the small seats underthe engine, appeared as if she would be glad of the chance to changeher mind. But she did not.

"Now, if you take me more than five feet up in the air, I'll neverspeak to you again, Tom Swift!" she exclaimed.

"Five feet it shall be, unless you yourself ask to go higher," was theyouth's reply, as he winked at Mr. Damon. Well he knew the fascinationof aeroplaning, and he was almost sure of what would happen. "You cantake a tape measure along, and see for yourself," he added to his fairpassenger. "The barograph will hardly register such a little height."

"Well, it's as high as I want to go," said the girl. "Oh!" with ascream, as Tom started the propeller. "Are we going?"

"In a moment," was his reply. He took his seat beside the girl. Themotor was speeded up until it sounded like the roar of the ocean surfin a storm.

"Let her go!" cried Tom to Mr. Damon and Mr. Jackson, who were holdingback the Humming-Bird. They gave her a slight shove to over-come theinertia, and the trim little craft darted across the ground at everyincreasing speed.

Miss Nestor caught her breath with a gasp, glanced at Tom, and notedhow cool he was, and then her frantic grip of the uprights slightlyrelaxed.

"We'll go up a little way in a minute!" shouted Tom in her ear as theywere speeding over the level ground.

He pulled a lever slightly, and the Humming-Bird rose a little in theair, but only for a short distance, not more than five feet, and Tomheld her there, though he had to run the engine at a greater speed thanwould have been the case had he been in the sustaining upper currents.It was as if the Humming-Bird resented being held so closely to theearth.

Around in a big circle, back and forth went the craft, at no time beingmore than seven feet from the ground. Tom glanced at Miss Nestor. Hercheeks were unusually red, and there was a bright sparkle in her eyes.

"It's glorious!" she cried. "Do you—do you think there's any danger ingoing higher? I believe I'd like to go up a bit."

"I knew it!" cried Tom. "Up we go!" And he pulled the wind-bendingplane lever toward him. Upward shot the craft, as if alive.

"Oh!" gasped Mary.

"Sit still! It's all right!" commanded Tom.

"It's glorious; glorious!" she cried. "I'm not a bit afraid now!"

"I knew you wouldn't be," declared the young inventor, who hadcalculated on the fascination which the motion through the air,untrammeled and free, always produces. "Shall we go higher?"

"Yes!" cried Miss Nestor, and she gazed fearlessly down at the earth,which was falling away from beneath their feet. She was in the grip ofthe air, and it was a new and wonderful sensation.

Tom went up to a considerable distance, for, once a person loses hisfirst fright, one hundred feet or one thousand feet elevation makeslittle difference to him. It was this way with Miss Nestor.

Now, indeed, could Tom demonstrate to her some of the fine points ofnavigation in the upper currents, and though he did no risky "stunts,"he showed the girl what it means to do an ascending spiral, how to cutcorners, how to twist around in the figure eight, and do other things.Tom did not try for the great speed of which he knew his craft wascapable, for he knew there was some risk with Miss Nestor aboard. Buthe did nearly everything else, and when he sent the Humming-Bird downhe had made another convert and devotee to the royal sport ofaeroplaning.

"Oh! I never would have dared believe I could do it!" exclaimed the girl, aswith flushed cheeks and dancing eyes she dismounted from the seat."Mamma and papa will never believe I did it!"

"Bring them over, and I'll take them for a flight," said Tom, with alaugh, as Mary departed.

Tom received an answer to his letter to Mr. Sharp that night.

"Andy Foger's entry blank states," wrote the balloonist, "that he isconstructing his aeroplane in the village of Hampton, which is aboutfifty miles from your place. If there is anything further I can do foryou, Tom, let me know. I will see you at the meet. Hope you win theprize."

"In Hampton, eh?" mused Tom. "So that's where Andy has been keepinghimself all this while. His uncle lives there, and that's the reasonfor it. He wanted to keep it a secret from me, so he could use mystolen plans for his craft. But he shan't do it! I'll go to Hampton!"

"And I'll go with you!" declared Mr. Damon, who was with Tom when hegot the note from the balloonist. "We'll get to the bottom of thismystery after a while, Tom."

Delaying a few days, to make the final changes in his aeroplane, Tomand Mr. Damon departed for Hampton one morning. They thought first ofgoing in the Butterfly, but as they wanted to keep their mission assecret as possible, they decided to go by train, and arrive in the townquietly and unostentatiously. They got to Hampton late that afternoon.

"What's the first thing to be done?" asked Mr. Damon as they walked upfrom the station, where they were almost the only persons who alightedfrom the train.

"Go to the hotel," decided Tom. "There's only one, I was told, sothere's not much choice."

Hampton was a quiet little country town of about five thousandinhabitants, and Tom soon learned the address of Mr. Bentley, Andy'suncle, from the hotel clerk.

"What business is Mr. Bentley in?" asked Tom, for he wanted to learnall he could without inquiring of persons who might question hismotives.

"Oh, he's retired," said the clerk. "He lives on the interest of hismoney. But of late he's been erecting some sort of a building on hisback lot, like a big shed, and folks are sort of wondering what he'sdoing in it. Keeps mighty secret about it. He's got a young fellowhelping him."

"Has he got red hair?" asked Tom, while his heart beat strangely fast.

"Who? Mr. Bentley? No. His hair's black."

"I mean the young fellow."

"Oh! his? Yes, his is red. He's a nephew, or some relation to Mr.Bentley. I did hear his name, but I've forgotten it. Sandy, or Andy, orsome such name as that."

This was near enough for Tom and Mr. Damon, and they did not want torisk asking any more questions. They turned away to go to their rooms,as the clerk was busy answering inquiries from some other guests. Alittle later, supper was served, and Tom, having finished, whispered toMr. Damon to join him upstairs as soon as he was through.

"What are you going to do?" asked the eccentric man.

"We're going out and have a look at this new shed by moonlight,"decided Tom. "I want to see what it's like, and, if possible, I want toget a peep inside. I'll soon be able to tell whether or not Andy isusing my stolen plans."

"All right. I'm with you. Bless my bill of fare! But we seem to bedoing a lot of mysterious work of late."

"Yes," agreed Tom. "But if you have to bless anything to-night, Mr.Damon, please whisper it. Andy, or some of his friends, may be aboutthe shed, and as soon as they hear one of your blessings they'll knowwho's coming."

"Oh, I'll be careful," promised Mr. Damon.

"Andy will find out, sooner or later, that we are in town," went onTom, "but we may be able to learn to-night what we want to know, andthen we can tell how to act."

A little later, as if they were merely strolling about, Mr. Damon andTom headed for Mr. Bentley's place, which was on the outskirts of thetown. There was a full moon, and the night was just right for the kindof observation Tom wanted to make. There were few persons abroad, andthe young inventor thought he would have no one spying on him.

They located the big house of Andy's uncle without trouble. Going downa side street, they had a glimpse of a shed, built of new boards,standing in the middle of a large lot. About the structure was a new,high wooden fence, but as Tom and his friend passed along it they sawthat a gate in it was open.

"I'm going in!" whispered Tom.

"Will it be safe?" asked Mr. Damon.

"I don't care whether it will be or not. I've got to know what Andy isdoing. Come on! We'll take a chance!"

Cautiously they entered the enclosure. The big shed was dark, and stoodout conspicuously in the moonlight.

"There doesn't seem to be any one here," whispered Tom. "I wonder if wecould get a look in the window?"

"It's worth trying, anyhow," agreed Mr. Damon. "I'm with you, Tom."

They drew nearer to the shed. Suddenly Tom stepped on a stick, whichbroke with a sharp report.

"Bless my spectacles!" cried Mr. Damon, half aloud.

There was silence for a moment, and then a voice cried out:

"Who's there? Hold on! Don't come any farther! It's dangerous!"

Tom and Mr. Damon stood still, and from behind the shed stepped AndyFoger and a man.

"Oh! it's you, is it, Tom Swift?" exclaimed the red-haired bully. "Ithought you'd come sneaking around. Come on, Jake! We'll make them wishthey'd stayed home!" And Andy made a rush for Tom.

Chapter Fourteen

The Great Test

"Bless my gizzard!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, who hardly knew what to do."We'd better be getting out of here, Tom!"

"Not much!" exclaimed the young inventor. "I never ran from Andy Fogeryet, and I'm not going to begin now."

He assumed an attitude of defense, and stood calmly awaiting theonslaught of the bully; but Andy knew better than to come to a personalargument with Tom, and so the red-haired lad halted some paces off. Theman, who had followed young Foger, also stopped.

"What do you want around here, Tom Swift?" demanded Andy.

"You know very well what I want," said the young inventor, calmly. "Iwant to know what you did with the aeroplane plans you took from myhouse."

"I never took any!" declared Andy vigorously.

"Well, there's no use discussing that," went on Tom. "What I came hereto find out, and I don't mind telling you, is whether or not you arebuilding a monoplane to compete against me, and building it on a modelinvented by me; and what's more, Andy Foger, I intend to find this out,too!"

Tom started toward the big shed, which loomed up in the moonlight.

"Stand back!" cried Andy, getting in Tom's way. "I can build any kindof an aeroplane I like, and you can't stop me!"

"We'll see about that," declared the young inventor, as he kept on."I'm not going to allow my plans to be stolen, and a monoplane madeafter them, and do nothing about it."

"You keep away!" snarled Andy, and he grabbed Tom by the shoulder andstruck him a blow in the chest. He must have been very much excited, orotherwise he never would have come to hostilities this way with Tom,whom he well knew could easily beat him.

The blow, together with the many things he had suffered at Andy'shands, was too much for our hero. He drew back his fist, and a momentlater Andy Foger was stretched out on the grass. He lay there for amoment, and then rose up slowly to his knees, his face distorted withrage.

"You—you hit me!" he snarled.

"Not until you hit first," said Tom calmly.

"Bless my punching bag! That's so!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"You'll suffer for this!" whined Andy, getting to his feet, but takingcare to retreat from Tom, who stood ready for him. "I'll get squarewith you for this! Jake, come on, and we'll get our guns!"

Andy turned and hurried back toward the shed, followed by theevil-looking man, who had apparently been undecided whether to attackMr. Damon or Tom. Now the bully and his companion were in full retreat.

"We'll get our guns, and then we'll see whether they'll want to staywhere they're not wanted!" went on Andy, threateningly.

"Bless my powderhorn! What had we better do?" asked Mr. Damon.

"I guess we'd better go back," said Tom calmly. "Not that I'm afraid ofAndy. His talk about guns is all bluff; but I don't want to get intoany more of a row, and he is just ugly and reckless enough to maketrouble. I'm afraid we can't learn what we came to find out, thoughI'm more convinced than ever that Andy is using my plans to make hisaeroplane."

"But what can you do?"

"I'll see Mr. Sharp, and send a protest to the aviation committee. I'llrefuse to enter if Andy flies in a model of my Humming-Bird, and I'lltry to prevent him from using it after he gets it on the ground. Thatis all I can do, it seems, lacking positive information. Come on, Mr.Damon. Let's get back to our hotel, and we'll start for home in themorning."

"I have a plan," whispered the odd man.

"What is it?" asked Tom, narrowly watching for the reappearance of Andyand the man.

"I'll stay here until they come, then I'll pretend to run away. They'llchase after me, and get all excited, and you can go up and look in theshed windows. Then you can join me later. How's that?"

"Too risky. They might fire at you by mistake. No. We'll both go. I'vefound out more than enough to confirm my suspicions."

They turned out of the lot which contained the shed, and walked towardthe road, just as Andy and his crony came back.

"Huh! You'd better go!" taunted the bully.

Tom had a bitter feeling in his heart. It seemed as if he was defeated,and he did not like to retreat before Andy.

"You'd better not come back here again, either," went on Andy.

Tom and Mr. Damon did not reply, but kept on in silence. They returnedto Shopton the next day.

"Well," remarked Tom, when he had gone out to look at his Humming-Bird,"I know one thing. Andy Foger may build a machine something like this,but I don't believe he can put in all the improvements I have, andcertainly he can't equal that engine; eh, dad?"

"I hope not, Tom," replied his father, who seemed to be much improvedin health.

"When are you going to try for speed?" asked Mr. Damon.

"To-morrow, if I can get it tuned up enough," replied Tom, "and I thinkI can. Yes, we'll have the great test to-morrow, and then I'll knowwhether I really have a chance for that ten thousand dollars."

Never before had Tom been so exacting in his requirements of his aircraft as when, the next day, the Humming-Bird was wheeled out to theflight ground, and gotten ready for the test. The young inventor wentover every bolt, brace, stay, guy wire and upright. He examined everysquare inch of the wings, the tips, planes and rudders. The levers, thesteering wheel, the automatic equilibrium attachments and the balancingweights were looked at again and again.

As for the engine, had it been a delicate watch, Tom could not havescrutinized each valve, wheel, cam and spur gear more carefully. Thenthe gasoline tank was filled, the magneto was looked after, the oilreservoirs were cleaned out and freshly filled, and finally the ladremarked:

"Well, I guess I'm ready. Come along, Mr. Damon."

"Am I going with you in the test?"

"Surely. I've been counting on you. If you're to be with me in therace, you want to get a sample of what we can do. Take your place. Mr.Jackson, are you ready to time us?"

"All ready, Tom."

"And, dad, do you feel well enough to check back Mr. Jackson's results?I don't want any errors."

"Oh, yes, Tom. I can do it."

"Very well, then. Now this is my plan. I'm going to mount upward on aneasy slant, and put her through a few stunts first, to warm up, and seethat everything is all right. Then, when I give the signal, by droppingthis small white ball, that means I'm ready for you to start to timeme. Then I'll begin to try for the record. I'll go about the course ina big ellipse, and—well, we'll see what happens."

While Mr. Damon was in his seat the young inventor started thepropeller, and noted the thrust developed. It was satisfactory, asmeasured on the scale, and then Tom took his place.

"Let her go!" he cried to Mr. Jackson and Eradicate, after he hadlistened to the song of the motor for a moment. The Humming-Bird flewacross the course, and a moment later mounted into the air.

Tom quickly took her up to about two thousand feet, and there, findingthe conditions to his liking, he began a few evolutions designed toseverely test the craft's stability, and to learn whether the enginewas working properly.

"How about it?" asked Mr. Damon anxiously.

"All right!" shouted Tom in his ear, for the motor was making a greatracket. "I guess we'll make the trial next time we come around. Getready to drop the signal ball."

Tom slowly brought the aeroplane around in a graceful curve. He sighteddown, and saw the first tall white pole that marked the beginning ofthe course.

"Drop!" he called to Mr. Damon.

The white rubber ball went to the earth like a shot. Mr. Jackson andMr. Swift saw it, and started their timing-watches. Tom opened thethrottle and advanced the spark. The great test was on!

The Humming-Bird trembled and throbbed with the awful speed of themotor, like a thing alive. She seemed to rush forward as an eagledropping down from a dizzy height upon some hapless prey.

"Faster yet!" murmured Tom. "We must go faster yet!"

The motor was warming up. Streaks of fire came from it. The exhaust ofthe explosions was a continuous roar. Faster and faster flew the frailcraft.

Around and around the air course she circled. The wind appeared to berushing beneath the planes and rudders with the velocity of ahurricane. Had it not been for the face protectors they wore, Tom andMr. Damon could not have breathed. For ten minutes this fearful speedwas kept up. Then Tom, knowing he had run the motor to the limit,slowed it down. Next he shut it off completely, and prepared tovolplane back to earth. The silence after the terrific racket wasalmost startling. For a moment neither of the aviators spoke. Then Mr.Damon said:

"Do you think you did it, Tom?"

"I don't know. We'll soon find out. They'll have the record." And hemotioned toward the earth, which they were rapidly nearing.

Chapter Fifteen

A Noise in the Night

"Well, did I make it? Make any kind of a record?" asked Tom eagerly, ashe brought the trim little craft to a stop, after it had rolled alongthe ground on the bicycle wheels.

"What do you think you did?" asked Mr. Jackson, who had been busyfiguring on a slip of paper.

"Did I get her up to ninety miles an hour?" inquired Tom eagerly. "If Idid, I know when the motor wears down a bit smoother that I can makeher hit a hundred in the race, easily. Did I touch ninety, Mr. Jackson?"

"Better than that, Tom! Better than that!" cried his father.

"Yes," joined in Mr. Jackson. "Allowing for the difference in ourwatches, Tom, your father and I figure that you did the course at therate of one hundred and twelve miles an hour!"

"One hundred and twelve!" gasped the young inventor, hardly able tobelieve it.

"I made it a hundred and fifteen," said Mr. Swift, who was almost aspleased as was his son, "and Mr. Jackson made it one hundred andeleven; so we split the difference, so to speak. You certainly have asky racer, Tom, my boy!"

"And I'll need it, too, dad, if I'm to compete with Andy Foger, who mayhave a machine almost like mine."

"But I thought you were going to object to him if he has," said Mr.Damon, who had hardly recovered from the speedy flight through space.

"Well, I was just providing for a contingency, in case my protest wasoverruled," remarked Tom. "But I'm glad the Humming-Bird did so well onher first trial. I know she'll do better the more I run her. Now we'llget her back in her 'nest,' and I'll look her over, when she coolsdown, and see if anything has worked loose."

But the trim little craft needed only slight adjustments after hertryout, for Tom had built her to stand up under a terrific strain.

"We'll soon be in shape for the big race," he announced, "and when Ibring home that ten thousand dollars I'm going to abandon thissky-scraping business, except for occasional trips."

"What will you do to occupy your mind?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Oh, I'm going to travel," announced Tom. "Then there's my new electricrifle, which I have not perfected yet. I'll work on that after I winthe big race."

For several days after the first real trial of his sky racer Tom wasbusy going over the Humming-Bird, making slight changes here and there.He was the sort of a lad who was satisfied with nothing short of thebest, and though neither his father nor Mr. Jackson could see wherethere was room for improvement, Tom was so exacting that he sat up forseveral nights to perfect such little details as a better grip for thesteering-lever, a quicker way of making the automatic equilibriumizertake its position, or an improved transmitter for the wirelessapparatus.

That was a part of his monoplane of which Tom was justly proud, forthough many aeroplanes to-day are equipped with the sending device, fewcan receive wireless messages in mid-air. But Tom had seen theadvantage of this while making a trip in the ill-fated Red Cloud to thecave of the diamond makers, and he determined to have his new craftthus provided against emergencies. The wireless outfit of theHumming-Bird was a marvel of compactness.

Thus the days passed, with Tom very busy; so busy, in fact, that hehardly had time to call on Miss Nestor. As for Andy Foger, he heard nomore from him, and the bully was not seen around Shopton. Tom concludedthat he was at his uncle's place, working on his racing craft.

The young inventor sent a formal protest to the aviation committee, tobe used in the event of Andy entering a craft which infringed on theHumming-Bird, and received word from Mr. Sharp that the interests ofthe young inventor would be protected. This satisfied Tom.

Still, at times, he could not help wondering how the first plans had somysteriously disappeared, and he would have given a good deal to knowjust how Andy got possession of them, and how he knew enough to usethem.

"He, or some one whom he hired, must have gotten into our house mightyquickly that day," mused Tom, "and then skipped out while dad fell intoa little doze. It was a mighty queer thing, but it's lucky it was noworse."

The time was approaching for the big aviation meet. Tom's craft was inreadiness, and had been given several other trials, developing morespeed each time. Additional locks were put on the doors of the shed,and more burglar-alarm wires were strung, so that it was almost aphysical impossibility to get into the Humming-Bird's "nest" withoutarousing some one in the Swift household.

"And if they do, I guess we'll be ready for them," said Tom grimly. Hehad been unable to find out who it was that had attempted once beforeto damage the monoplane, but he suspected it was the ill-favored manwho was working with Andy.

As for Mr. Swift, at times he seemed quite well, and again he requiredthe services of a physician.

"You will have to be very careful of your father, Tom," said Dr.Gladby. "Any sudden shock or excitement may aggravate his malady, andin that case a serious operation will be necessary."

"Oh, we'll take good care of him," said the lad; but he could not helpworrying, though he tried not to let his father see the strain which hewas under.

It was some days after this, and lacking about a week until the meetwas to open, when a peculiar thing happened. Tom had given hisHumming-Bird a tryout one day, and had then begun to make arrangementsfor taking it apart and shipping it to Eagle Park. For he would not flyto the meet in it, for fear of some accident. So big cases had beenprovided.

"I'll take it apart in the morning," decided Tom, as he went to hisroom, after seeing to the burglar alarm, "and ship her off. Then Mr.Damon and I will go there, set her up, and get ready to win the race."

Tom had opened all the windows in his room, for it was very warm. Infact it was so warm that sleep was almost out of the question, and hegot up to sit near the windows in the hope of feeling a breeze.

There it was more comfortable, and he was just dozing off, andbeginning to think of getting back into bed, when he was aware of apeculiar sound in the air overhead.

"I wonder if that's a heavy wind starting up?" he mused. "Good luck, ifit is! We need it." The noise increased, sounding more and more likewind, but Tom, looking out into the night, saw the leaves of the treesbarely moving.

"If that's a breeze, it's taking its own time getting here," he went on.

The sound came nearer, and then Tom knew that it was not the noise ofthe wind in the trees. It was more like a roaring and rumbling.

"Can it be distant thunder?" Tom asked himself. "There is no sign of astorm." Once more he looked from the window. The night was calm andclear—the trees as still as if they were painted.

The sound was even more plain now, and Tom, who had sharp ears, at oncedecided that it was just over the house—directly overhead. An instantlater he knew what it was.

"The motor of an aeroplane, or a dirigible balloon!" he exclaimed."Some one is flying overhead!"

For an instant he feared lest the shed had been broken into, and hisHumming-Bird taken, but a glance toward the place seemed to show thatit was all right.

Then Tom hastily made his way to where a flight of stairs led to alittle enclosed observatory on the roof.

"I'm going to see what sort of a craft it is making that noise," hesaid.

As he opened the trap door, and stepped out into the little observatorythe sound was so plain as to startle him. He looked up quickly, and,directly overhead he saw a curious sight.

For, flying so low as to almost brush the lightning rod on the chimneyof the Swift home, was a small aeroplane, and, as Tom looked up, he sawin a light that gleamed from it, two figures looking down on him.

Chapter Sixteen

A Mysterious Fire

For a few moments Tom did not know what to think. Not that the sight ofaeroplanes in flight were any novelty to him, but to see one flyingover his house in the dead of night was a little out of the ordinary.Then, as he realized that night-flights were becoming more common, Tomtried to make out the details of the craft.

"I wish I had brought the night glasses with me," he said aloud.

"Here they are," spoke a voice at his side, and so suddenly that Tomwas startled. He looked down, and saw Mr. Jackson standing beside him.

"Did you hear the noise, too?" the lad asked the engineer.

"Yes. It woke me up. Then I heard you moving around, and I heard youcome up here. I thought maybe it was a flight of meteors you'd come tosee, and I knew the glasses would be handy, so I stopped for them. Takea look, Tom. It's an aeroplane; isn't it?"

"Yes, and not moving very fast, either. They seem to be circling aroundhere."

The young inventor was peering through the binoculars, and, as soon ashe had the mysterious craft in focus, he cried:

"Look, Mr. Jackson, it's a new kind of monoplane. I never saw one likeit before. I wonder who could have invented that? It's something like aSantos-Dumont and a Bleriot, with some features of Cornu's Helicopter.That's a queer machine."

"It certainly is," agreed the engineer, who was now sighting throughthe glasses. In spite of the darkness the binoculars brought out thepeculiarities of the aeroplane with considerable distinctness.

"Can you make out who are in it?" asked Tom.

"No," answered Mr. Jackson. "You try."

But Tom had no better luck. There were two persons in the odd machine,which was slowly flying along, moving in a great circle, with the Swifthouse for its center.

"I wonder why they're hanging around here?" asked Tom, suspiciously.

"Perhaps they want to talk to you," suggested Mr. Jackson. "They may befellow inventors—perhaps one of them is that Philadelphia man who hadthe Whizzer."

"No," replied the lad. "He would have sent me word if he intendedcalling on me. Those are strangers, I think. There they are, comingback again."

The mysterious aeroplane was once more circling toward the watchers onthe roof. There was a movement on the steps, near which Tom wasstanding, and his father came up.

"Is anything the matter?" he asked anxiously.

"Only a queer craft circling around up here," was the reply. "Come andsee, dad."

Mr. Swift ascended to the roof. The aeroplane was higher now, and thosein her could not so easily be made out. Tom felt a vague sense of fear,as though he was being watched by the evil eyes of his enemies. Morethan once he looked over to the shed where his craft was housed, asthough some danger might threaten it. But the shed of the Humming-Birdshowed no signs of invaders.

Suddenly the mysterious aeroplane increased its speed. It circled aboutmore quickly, and shot upward, as though to show the watchers of whatit was capable. Then, with a quick swoop it darted downward, straightfor the building where Tom's newest invention was housed.

"Look out! They'll hit something!" cried the young inventor, as thoughthose in the aeroplane could hear him.

Then, just as though they had heeded his warning, the pilots of themysterious craft shot her upward, after she had hovered for an instantover the big shed.

"That was a queer move," said Tom. "It looked as if they lost controlof her for a moment."

"And they dropped something!" cried Mr. Jackson. "Look! something fellfrom the aeroplane on the roof of the shed."

"Some tool, likely," spoke Tom. "I'll get it in the morning, and seewhat sort of instruments they carry. I'd like to examine that machine,though."

The queer aeroplane was now shooting off in the darkness and Tomfollowed it with the glasses, wondering what its construction could belike. He was to have another sight of it sooner than he expected.

"Well, we may as well get back to bed," said Mr. Jackson. "I'm tired,and we've got lots to do to-morrow."

"Yes," agreed Tom. "It's cooler now. Come on, dad."

Tom fell into a light doze. He thought afterward he could not haveslept more than half an hour when he heard a commotion out in the yard.For an instant he could not tell what it was, and then, as he grewwider awake he knew that it was the shouting of Eradicate Sampson, andthe braying of Boomerang.

But what was Eradicate shouting?

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

Tom leaped to his window.

"Wake up, Massa Tom! Wake up! De areoplane shed am on fire, an' deHumming-Bird will burn up! Hurry! Hurry!"

Tom looked out. Flames were shooting up from the roof of the shed wherehis precious craft was kept.

Chapter Seventeen

Mr. Swift is Worse

Almost before the echoes of Eradicate's direful warning cry had diedaway, Tom was on his way out of the house, pausing only long enough toslip on a pair of shoes and his trousers. There was but one thought inhis mind. If he could get the Humming-Bird safely out he would not careif the shed did burn, even though it contained many valuable tools andappliances.

"We must save my new aeroplane!" thought Tom, desperately. "I've got tosave her!"

As he raced through the hall he caught up a portable chemicalfire-extinguisher. Tom saw his father's door open, and Mr. Swift lookedout.

"What is it?" he called anxiously.

"Fire!" answered the young inventor, almost before he thought of thedoctor's warning that Mr. Swift must not be excited. Tom wished hecould recall the word, but it was too late. Besides Eradicate, down inthe yard was shouting at the top of his voice:

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

"Where, Tom?" gasped Mr. Swift, and his son thought the aged inventorgrew suddenly paler.

"Aeroplane shed," answered the lad. "But don't worry dad. It's only asmall blaze. We'll get it out. You stay here. We'll attend to it—Mr.Jackson and Eradicate and I."

"No—I'm going to help!" exclaimed Mr. Swift, sturdily. "I'll be withyou, Tom. Go on!"

The lad rushed down to the yard, closely followed by the engineer, whohad caught up another extinguisher. Eradicate was rushing about, notknowing what to do, but still keeping up his shouting.

"It's on de roof! De roof am all blazin'!" he yelled.

"Quit your noise, and get to work!" cried Tom. "Get out a ladder, Rad,and raise it to the side of the shed. Then play this extinguisher onthe blaze. Mr. Jackson, you help me run the Humming-Bird out. Aftershe's safe we'll tackle the fire."

Tom cast a hurried look at the burning shed. The flames were shootinghigh up from the roof, now, and eating their way down. As he rushedtoward the big doors, which he intended to open to enable him to runout his sky racer, he was wondering how the fire came to start so highup as the roof. He wondered if a meteor could have fallen and caused it.

As the doors, which were quickly unlocked by Tom, swung back, and as heand the engineer started to go in, they were met by choking fumes as ifof some gas. They recoiled for the moment.

"What—what's that?" gasped Tom, coughing and sneezing.

"Some chemical—I—I don't know what kind," spluttered Mr. Jackson."Have you any carboys of acid in there Tom, that might have exploded bythe heat?"

"No; not a thing. Let's try again."

Once more they tried to go in, but were again driven back by thedistressing fumes. The fire was eating down, now. There was a holeburned in the roof, and by the leaping tongues of flame Tom could seehis aeroplane. It was almost in the path of the blaze.

"We must get her out!" he shouted. "I'm going in!"

But it was impossible, and the daring young inventor nearly succumbedto the choking odors. Mr. Jackson dragged him back.

"We can't go in!" he cried. "There has been some mysterious work here!Those fumes were put here to keep us from saving the machine. This firehas been set by some enemy! We can't go in!"

"But I am going!" declared Tom. "We'll try the back door."

They rushed to that, but again were driven out by the gases and vapors,which were mingled with the smoke. Disheartened, yet with a wild desireto do something to save his precious craft, Tom Swift drew back for amoment.

As he did so he heard a hiss, as Eradicate turned the chemical streamon the blaze. Tom looked up. The faithful colored man was on a laddernear the burning roof, acting well his part as a fireman.

"That's the stuff!" cried Tom. "Come on, Mr. Jackson. Maybe if we usethe chemical extinguishers we can drive out those fumes!"

The engineer understood. He took up the extinguisher he had brought,and Tom got a second one from a nearby shed. Then Mr. Swift came outbearing another.

"You shouldn't have come, dad! We can attend to it!" cried Tom, fearingfor the effect of the excitement on his invalid parent.

"Oh, I couldn't stay there and see the shed burn. Are you getting itunder control? Why don't you run out the Humming-Bird?"

Tom did not mention the choking fumes. He passed up a full extinguisherto Eradicate, who had used all the chemical in his. Then Tom gotanother ladder, and soon three streams were being directed on theflames. They had eaten, a pretty big hole in the roof, but thechemicals were slowly telling on them.

As soon as he saw that Eradicate and Mr. Jackson could control theblaze, Tom descended to the ground, and ran once more to the big doors.He was determined to make another try to wheel out the aeroplane, forhe saw from above that the flames were now on the side wall, and mightreach the craft any minute. And it would not take much to inflictserious damage on the sky racer.

"I'll get her, fumes or no fumes!" murmured Tom, grimly. And, whetherit was the effect of the chemical streams, or whether the choking odorswere dissipated through the hole in the roof was not manifested, but,at any rate, Tom found that he could go in, though he coughed andgasped for breath.

He wheeled the aeroplane outside, for the Humming-Bird was almost aslight as her namesake. A hurried glance by the gleam of the dying fireassured Tom that his craft was not damaged beyond a slight scorching ofone of the wing tips.

"That was a narrow escape!" he murmured, as he wheeled the sky racerfar away, out of any danger from sparks. Then he went back to helpfight the fire, which was extinguished in about ten minutes more.

"It was a mighty queer blaze," said Mr. Jackson, "starting at the topthat way. I wonder what caused it?"

"We'll investigate in the morning," decided Tom. "Now, dad, you mustget back to your room." He turned to help his father in, but at thatmoment Mr. Swift, who was trying to say something, fell over in a deadfaint.

"Quick! Help me carry him into the house!" cried Tom. "Then telephonefor Dr. Gladby, Mr. Jackson."

The physician looked grave when, half an hour later, he examined hispatient.

"Mr. Swift is very much worse," he said in a low voice. "The excitementof the fire has aggravated his ailment. I would like another doctor tosee him, Tom."

"Another doctor?" Tom's voice showed his alarm.

"Yes, we must have a consultation. I think Dr. Kurtz will be a good oneto call in. I should like his opinion before I decide what course totake."

"I'll send Eradicate for him at once," said the young inventor, and hewent to give the colored man his instructions, while his heart wasfilled with a great fear for his father.

Chapter Eighteen

The Broken Bridge

Dr. Kurtz looked as grave as did Dr. Gladby when he had made anexamination of the patient. Mr. Swift was still in a semi-consciouscondition, hardly breathing as he rested on the bed where they hadplaced him after the fire.

"Vell," said the German physician, after a long silence, "vot is yourobinion, my dear Gladby?"

"I think an operation is necessary."

"Yes, dot is so; but you know vot kind of an operation alone vill safehim; eh, my dear Gladby?"

Dr. Gladby nodded.

"It will be a rare and delicate one," he said. "There is but onesurgeon I know of who can do it."

"You mean Herr Hendrix?" asked Dr. Kurtz.

"Yes, Dr. Edward Hendrix, of Kirkville. If he can be induced to come Ithink there is a chance of saving Mr. Swift's life. I'll speak to Tomabout it."

The two physicians, who had been consulting together, summoned theyouth from another room, where, with Mrs. Baggert and Mr. Jackson hehad been anxiously awaiting the verdict.

"What is it?" the young inventor asked Dr. Gladby.

The medical man told him to what conclusion he and his colleague hadarrived, adding:

"We advise that Dr. Hendrix be sent for at once. But I need hardly tellyou, Tom, that he is a noted specialist, and his services are in greatdemand. He is hard to get."

"I'll pay him any sum he asks!" burst out the youth. "I'll spend all myfortune—and I have made considerable money of late—I'll spend everycent to get my father well! Money need not stand in the way, Dr.Gladby."

"I knew that, Tom. Still Dr. Hendrix is a very busy man, and it is hardto induce him to come a long distance. It is over a hundred miles toKirkville, and it is an out-of-the-way place. I never could understandwhy Dr. Hendrix settled there. But there he is, and if we want him hewill have to come from there. The worst of it is that there are fewtrains, and only a single railroad line from there to Shopton."

"Then I'll telegraph," decided Tom. "I'll offer him his own price, andask him to rush here as soon as he can."

"You had better let Dr. Kurtz and me attend to that part of it,"suggested the physician. "Dr. Hendrix would hardly come on the requestof some one whom he did not know. I'll prepare a telegram, brieflyexplaining the case. It is the sort of an operation Dr. Hendrix is muchinterested in, and I think he will come on that account, if for noother reason. I'll write out the message, and you can have Eradicatetake it to the telegraph office."

"I'll take it myself!" exclaimed Tom, as he got ready to go out intothe night with the urgent request. "Is there any immediate danger formy father?" he asked.

"No; not any immediate danger," replied Dr. Gladby. "But the operationis imperative if he is to live. It is his one and only chance."

Tom thought only of his father as he hurried on through the night. Eventhe prospect of the great race, so soon to take place, had no part inhis mind.

"I'll not race until I'm sure dad is going to get better," he decided.With the message to the noted specialist Tom also sent one to Mr.Damon, telling him the news, and asking him to come to Shopton. Tomfelt that the presence of the odd gentleman would help him, and Mr.Damon, who first intended to stay on at the Swift home until he and Tomdeparted for Eagle Park, had gone back to his own residence to attendto some business Tom knew he would come in the morning, and Mr. Damondid arrive on the first train.

"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed with ready sympathy, as he extended hishand to Tom. "What's all this?" The young inventor told him, beginningwith the fire that had been the cause of the excitement which producedthe change in Mr. Swift.

"But I have great hopes that the specialist will be able to cure him,"said Tom, for, with the coming of daylight, his courage had returned tohim. "Dr. Gladby and Dr. Kurtz depend a great deal on Dr. Hendrix," hesaid.

"Yes, he certainly is a wonderful man. I have heard a great deal abouthim. I have no doubt but what he will cure your father. But about thefire? How did it start?"

"I don't know, but now that I have a few hours to spare before thedoctor can get here, I'm going to make an examination."

"Bless my penwiper, but I'll help you."

Tom went into the house, to inquire of Mrs. Baggert, for probably thetenth time that morning, how his father was doing. Mr. Swift was stillin a semi-conscious condition, but he recognized Tom, when the youthstood at his bedside.

"Don't worry about me, son," said the brave old inventor, as he tookTom's hand. "I'll be all right. Go ahead and get ready for the race. Iwant you to win!"

Tears came into Tom's eyes. Would his father be well enough to allowhim to take part in the big event? He feared not.

By daylight it was seen that quite a hole had been burned in theaeroplane shed. Tom and Mr. Damon, accompanied by Mr. Jackson, walkedthrough the place.

"And you say the fire broke out right after you had seen the mysteriousairship hovering over the house?" asked the eccentric man.

"Well, not exactly after," answered Tom, "but within an hour or so. Whydo you ask?"

But Mr. Damon did not answer. Something on the floor of the shed, amida pile of blackened and charred pieces of wood, attracted hisattention. He stooped over and picked it up.

"Is this yours?" he asked Tom.

"No. What is it?"

The object looked like a small iron ball, with a tube about half aninch in diameter projecting slightly from it. Tom took it.

"Why, it looks like an infernal machine or a dynamite bomb," he said."I wonder where it came from? Guess I'd better drop it in a pail ofwater. Maybe Eradicate found it and brought it here. I never saw itbefore. Mr. Jackson, please hand me that pail of water. We'll soak thisbomb."

"There is no need," said Mr. Damon, quietly. "It is harmless now. Ithas done its work. It was that which set fire to your shed, and whichcaused the stifling fumes."

"That?" cried Tom.

"Yes. This ball is hollow, and was filled with a chemical. It wasdropped on the roof, and, after a certain time, the plug in the tubewas eaten through, the chemicals ran out, set the roof ablaze, and,dripping down inside spread the choking odors that nearly prevented youfrom getting out your aeroplane."

"Are you sure of this?" asked the young inventor.

"Positive. I read about these bombs recently. A German invented them tobe used in attacking a besieged city in case of war."

"But how did this one get on my shed roof?" asked Tom.

"It was dropped there by the mysterious airship!" exclaimed the oddman. "That was why the aeroplane moved about over your place. Those init hoped that the fire would not break out until you were all asleep,and that the shed and the Humming-Bird would be destroyed before youcame to the rescue. Some of your enemies are still after you, Tom."

"And it was Andy Foger, I'll wager!" he cried. "He was in thataircraft! Oh, I'll have a long score to settle with him!"

"Of course you can't be sure it was he," said Mr. Damon, "but Iwouldn't be a bit surprised but what it was. Andy is capable of such athing. He wanted to prevent you from taking part in the race."

"Well, he sha'n't!" cried Tom, and then he thought of his invalidfather. They made a further examination of the shed, and discoveredanother empty bomb. Then Tom recalled having seen something drop fromthe mysterious aeroplane as it passed over the shed.

"It was these bombs," he said. "We certainly had a narrow escape! Oh,wait until I settle my score with Andy Foger!"

As there would be but little use for the aeroplane shed now, if Tomsent his craft off to the meet, it was decided to repair it temporarilyonly, until he returned.

Accordingly, a big tarpaulin was fastened over the hole in the roof.Then Tom put a new wing tip on in place of the one that had beenscorched. He looked all over his sky racer, and decided that it was infit condition for the coming meet.

"I'll begin to take it apart for shipment, as soon as I hear from thespecialist that dad is well enough for me to go," he said.

It was a few hours after the discovery of the empty bomb that Tom sawDr. Gladby coming along. The physician was urging his horse to topspeed. Tom felt a vague fear in his heart.

"I've got a message from Dr. Hendrix, Tom," he said, as he stopped hiscarriage, and approached the lad.

"When can he come?" asked the young inventor, eagerly.

"He can't get here, Tom."

"Can't get here! Why not?"

"Because the railroad bridge has collapsed, and there is no way tocome. He can't make any other connections to get here in time—in timeto do your father any good, Tom. He has just sent me a telegram to thateffect. Dr. Hendrix can't get here, and..." Dr. Gladby paused.

"Do you mean that my father may die if the operation is not performed?"asked Tom, in a low voice.

"Yes," was the answer.

"But can't Dr. Hendrix drive here in an auto?" asked the lad. "Surelythere must be some way of getting over the river, even if the railroadbridge is down. Can't he cross in a boat and drive here?"

"He wouldn't be in time, Tom. Don't you understand, Dr. Hendrix must behere within four hours, if he is to save your father's life. He nevercould do it by driving or by coming on some other road, or in an auto.He can't make the proper connections. There is no way."

"Yes, there is!" cried Tom, suddenly. "I know a way!"

"How?" asked Dr. Gladby, thrilled by Tom's ringing tones. "How can youdo it, Tom?"

"I'll go for Dr. Hendrix in my Humming-Bird."

"Going for him would do no good. He must be brought here."

"And so he shall be!" cried Tom. "I'll bring him here in my skyracer—if he has the nerve to stand the journey, and I think he has!I'll bring Dr. Hendrix here!" and Tom hurried away to prepare for thethrilling trip.

Chapter Nineteen

A Nervy Specialist

There was little time to lose. Every moment of delay meant so much lesschance for the recovery of Mr. Swift. Even now the periods ofconsciousness were becoming shorter and farther apart. He seemed to besinking.

Tom resolutely refused to think of the possibility of death, as he wentin to bid his parent good-by before starting off on his trip throughthe air. Mr. Swift barely knew his son, and, with tears in his eyes,though he bravely tried to keep them back, the young inventor went outinto the yard.

There stood the Humming-Bird, with Mr. Jackson, Mr. Damon and Eradicateworking over her, to get her in perfect trim for the race before her—arace with death.

Fortunately there was little to be done to get the speedy craft ready.Tom had accomplished most of what was necessary, while waiting for wordfrom Dr. Hendrix. Now about all that needed to be done was to see thatthere was plenty of gasoline and oil in the reservoirs.

"I'll give you a note to Dr. Hendrix," said Mr. Gladby, as Tom wasfastening on his faceguard. "I—I trust you won't be disappointed, Tom.I hope he will consent to return with you."

"He's got to come," said the young inventor, simply, as if that was allthere was to it.

"Do you think you can make the trip in time?" asked Mr. Damon. "It is alittle less than a hundred miles in an airline, but you have to go andgo back. Can the aeroplane do it?"

"I'd be ashamed of her if she couldn't," said Tom, with a grimtightening of his lips. "She's just got to do it; that's all! But Iknow she will," and he patted the big propeller and the motor's shiningcylinders as though the machine was a thing alive, like a horse or adog, who could understand him.

He climbed to his seat, the other one holding a bag of sand to maintaina good balance.

"Start her," ordered Tom, and Mr. Jackson twisted the propeller. Themotor caught at once, and the air throbbed with the noise of theexplosions. Tom listened to the tune of the machinery. It sang true.

"Two thousand pounds thrust!" called the engineer, as he looked at thescale.

"Let her go!" cried Tom, whose voice was hardly heard above the roar.The trim little aeroplane scudded over the ground, gathering speed atevery revolution of the wheels. Then with a spring like that of somegreat bird launching itself in flight, she left the earth, and took tothe air. Tom was off on his trip.

Those left behind sent up a cautious cheer, for they did not want todisturb Mr. Swift. They waved their hands to the young inventor, and hewaved his in reply. Then he settled down for one of the swiftestflights he had ever undertaken.

Tom ascended until he struck a favorable current of air. There was alittle wind blowing in the direction he wished to take, and that aidedhim. But even against a powerful head-wind the Humming-Bird could makeprogress.

The young inventor saw the ground slipping backward beneath him.Carefully he watched the various indicators, and listened intently tothe sound of the cylinders' explosions. They came rapidly andregularly. The motor was working well.

Tom glanced at the barograph. It registered two thousand feet, and hedecided to keep at about that height, as it gave him a good view, andhe could see to steer, for a route had been hastily mapped out for himby his friends.

Over cities, towns, villages, scattered farmhouses; across stretches offorest; over rivers, above big stretches of open country he flew. Oftenhe could see eager crowds below, gazing up at him. But he paid no heed.He was looking for a sight of a certain broad river, which was nearKirkville. Then he knew he would be close to his goal.

He had speeded up the motor to the limit, and there was nothing to donow, save to manage the planes, wing tips and rudders, and to see thatthe gasoline and oil were properly fed to the machine.

Faster and faster went the Humming-Bird, but Tom's thoughts were evenfaster. He was thinking of many things—of his father—of what he woulddo if Mr. Swift died—of the mysterious airship—of the stolenplans—of the fire in the shed—of the great race—and of Andy Foger.

He took little note of time, and when, in less than an hour he sightedthe river that told him he was near to Kirkville, he was ratherstartled.

"You certainly did come right along, Humming-Bird!" he murmured proudly.

He descended several hundred feet, and, as he passed over the town, thepeople of which grew wildly excited, he looked about for the house ofthe noted specialist. He knew how to pick it out, for Dr. Gladby haddescribed it to him, and Tom was glad to see, as he came within view ofthe residence, that it was surrounded by a large yard.

"I can land almost at his door," he said, and he did, volplaning toearth with an ease born of long practice.

To say that Dr. Hendrix was astonished when Tom dropped in on him inthis manner, would not be exactly true. The specialist was not in thehabit of receiving calls from youths in aeroplanes, but the fact was,that Dr. Hendrix was so absorbed in his work, and thought so constantlyabout it, that it took a great deal to startle him out of his usualcalm.

"And so you came for me in your aeroplane?" he asked of Tom, as hegazed at the trim little craft. It is doubtful if he really saw it,however, as Dr. Hendrix was just then thinking of an operation he hadperformed a few hours before. "I'm sorry you had your trip fornothing," he went on. "I'd like very much to come to your father, butdidn't you get my telegram, telling about the broken bridge? There isno way for me to get to Shopton in time."

"Yes, there is!" cried Tom, eagerly.

"How?"

"The same way I came—in the aeroplane! Dr. Hendrix you must go backwith me! It's the only way to save my father's life. Come with me inthe Humming-Bird. It's perfectly safe. I can make the trip in less thanan hour. I can carry you and your instruments. Will you come? Won't youcome to save my father's life?" Tom was fairly pleading now.

"A trip in an aeroplane," mused Dr. Hendrix "I've never taken such athing. I—"

"Don't be afraid, there's really no danger," said Tom.

The physician seemed to reach a sudden conclusion. His eyes brightened.He walked over and looked at the little Humming-Bird. For the timebeing he forgot about his operations.

"I'll go with you!" he suddenly cried. "I'll go with you, Tom Swift! Ifyou've got the nerve, so have I! and if my science and skill can saveyour father's life, he'll live to be an old man! Wait until I get mybag and I'll be with you!"

Tom's heart gave a bound of hope.

Chapter Twenty

Just in Time

While Dr. Hendrix was in his office, getting ready to make thethrilling trip through the air with Tom, the young inventor spent a fewminutes going over his monoplane. The wonderful little craft had madeher first big flight in excellent time, though Tom knew she could dobetter the farther she was flown. Not a stay had started, not a guywire was loose. The motor had not overheated, and every bearing was ascool as though it had not taken part in thousands of revolutions.

"Oh, I can depend on you!" murmured Tom, as he looked to see that thepropeller was tight on the shaft. He gave the bearing a slightadjustment to make sure of it.

He was at this when the specialist reappeared. Dr. Hendrix, after hisfirst show of excitement, when he had made his decision to accompanyTom, had resumed his usual calm demeanor. Once again he was the gravesurgeon, with his mind on the case before him.

"Well, is my auto ready?" he asked absentmindedly. Then, as he saw thelittle aeroplane, and Tom standing waiting beside it, he added: "Oh, Iforgot for the moment that I was to make a trip through the air,instead of in my car. Well, Mr. Swift, are we all ready?"

"All ready," replied the young inventor. "We're going to make fasttime, Dr. Hendrix. You'd better put this on," and Tom extended a faceprotector.

"What's it for?" The physician looked curiously at it.

"To keep the air from cutting your cheeks and lips. We are going totravel a hundred miles an hour this trip."

"A hundred miles an hour!" Dr. Hendrix spoke as though he would like toback out.

"Maybe more, if I can manage it," went on Tom, calmly, as he proceededto remove the bag of sand from the place where the surgeon was to sit.Then he looked to the various equilibrium arrangements and the controllevers. He was so cool about it, taking it all for granted, as ifrising and flying through the air at a speed rivaling that of thefastest birds, was a matter of no moment, that Dr. Hendrix wasimpressed by the calm demeanor of the young inventor.

"Very well," said the surgeon with a shrug of his shoulders, "I guessI'm game, Tom Swift."

The doctor took the seat Tom pointed out to him, with his bag ofinstruments on his knees. He put on the face protector, and had, at thesuggestion of our hero, donned a heavy coat.

"For it's cold in the upper regions," said Tom.

Several servants in the physician's household had gathered to see himdepart in this novel fashion, and the chauffeur of the auto, in whichthe specialist usually made his calls, was also there.

"I'll give you a hand," said the chauffeur to the young inventor. "Iwas at an aviation meet once, and I know how it's done."

"Good," exclaimed Tom. "Then you can hold the machine, and shove when Igive the word."

Tom started the propeller himself, and quickly jumped into his seat.The chauffeur held back the Humming-Bird until the young aviator hadspeeded up the motor.

"Let go!" cried the youthful inventor, and the man gave the littlecraft a shove. Across the rather uneven ground of the doctor's yard itran, straight for a big iron barrier.

"Look out! We'll be into the fence!" shouted the surgeon. "We'll bekilled!" He seemed about to leap off.

"Sit still!" cried Tom, and at that instant he tilted the elevationplanes, and the craft shot upward, going over the fence like a circushorse taking a seven-barred gate.

"Oh!" exclaimed the physician in a curious voice. They were off ontheir trip to save the life of Mr. Swift.

What the sensations of the celebrated specialist were, Tom neverlearned. If he was afraid, his fright quickly gave place to wonder, andthe wonder soon changed to delight as the machine rose higher andhigher, acquired more speed, and soared in the air over the countrythat spread out in all directions from Kirkville.

"Magnificent! Magnificent!" murmured the doctor, and then Tom knew thatthe surgeon was in the grip of the air, and was one of the "bird-men."

Every moment the Humming-Bird increased her speed. They passed over theriver near where men were working on the broken bridge. It was now nobarrier to them. Tom, noting the barograph, and seeing that they weretwenty-two hundred feet high, decided to keep at about that distancefrom the earth.

"How fast are we going?" cried Dr. Hendrix, into the ear of the younginventor.

"Just a little short of a hundred an hour!" Tom shouted back. "We'llhit a hundred and five before long."

His prediction proved true, and when about forty miles from Shoptonthat terrific speed had been attained. It seemed as if they were goingto have a trip devoid of incident, and Tom was congratulating himselfon the quick time made, when he ran into a contrary strata of air.Almost before he knew it the Humming-Bird gave a dangerous andsickening dive, and tilted at a terrifying angle.

"Are we going to turn turtle?" cried the doctor.

"I—I hope not!" gasped Tom. He could not understand why theequilibrium weights did not work, but he had no time then toinvestigate. Quickly he warped the wing tips and brought the craft upon an even keel.

He gave a sigh of relief as the aeroplane was once more shootingforward, and he was not mistaken when he thought he heard Dr. Hendrixmurmur a prayer of thankfulness. Their escape had been a narrow one.Tom's nerve, and the coolness of the physician, had alone saved themfrom a fall to death.

But now, as if ashamed of her prank, the Humming-Bird went along evenbetter than before. Tom was peering through the slight haze that hungover the earth, for a sight of Shopton. At length the spires of thechurches came into view.

"There it is," he called, pointing downward. "We'll land in two minutesmore."

"No time to spare," murmured the doctor, who knew the serious nature ofthe aged inventor's illness. "How long did it take us?"

"Fifty-one minutes," replied Tom, glancing at a small clock in front ofhim. Then he shut off the motor and volplaned to earth, to the no smallastonishment of the surgeon. He made a perfect landing in the yardbefore the shed, leaped from his seat, and called:

"Come, Dr. Hendrix!"

The surgeon followed him. Dr. Gladby and Dr. Kurtz came to the door ofthe house. On their faces were grave looks. They greeted the celebratedsurgeon eagerly.

"Well?" he asked quickly, and they knew what he meant.

"You are only just in time," said Dr. Gladby, softly, and Tom,following the doctors into the house, wondered if his trip with thespecialist had been in vain.

Chapter Twenty-One

"Will He Live?"

Soon there were busy scenes in the Swift home, as preparations weremade for a serious operation on the aged inventor. Tom's father hadsunk into deep unconsciousness, and was stretched out on the bed asthough there was no more life in him. In fact, Tom, for the moment,feared that it was all over. But good old Dr. Kurtz, noting the look onthe lad's face, said:

"Ach, Dom, doan't vorry! Maybe it vill yet all be vell, und der vatervill hear of der great race. Bluck up your courage, und doan't gif up.Der greatest surgeon in der vorld is here now, und if anybody gan safeyour vater, Herr Hendriz gan. Dot vos a great drip you made—a greatdrip!"

Tom felt a little comforted and, after a sight of his father, and asilent prayer that God would spare his life for years to come, theyoung inventor went out in the yard. He wanted to be busy aboutsomething, for he knew, with the doctors, and a trained nurse who hadbeen hastily summoned, there was no immediate need for him. He wantedto get his mind off the operation that would soon take place, and so hedecided to look over his aeroplane.

Mr. Damon came out when Tom was going over the guy wires and braces, tosee how they had stood the strain.

"Well, Tom, my lad," said the eccentric man, sadly, as he grasped ourhero's hand, "it's too bad. But hope for the best. I'm sure your fatherwill pull through. We will have to begin taking the Humming-Bird apartsoon; won't we, if we're going to ship it to Eagle Park?" He wanted totake Tom's mind off his troubles.

"I don't know whether we will or not," was the answer, and Tom tried tospeak unbrokenly, but there was a troublesome lump in his throat, and amist of tears in his eyes that prevented him from seeing well. TheHumming-Bird, to him, looked as if she was in a fog.

"Nonsense! Of course we will!" cried Mr. Damon. "Why, bless mywishbone! Tom, you don't mean to say you're going to let that littleshrimp Andy Foger walk away with that ten-thousand-dollar prize withoutgiving him a fight for it; are you?"

This was just what Tom needed, and it seemed good to have Mr. Damonbless something again, even if it was only a wishbone.

"No!" exclaimed Tom, in ringing tones. "Andy Foger isn't going to beatme, and if I find out he is going to race with a machine made after mystolen plans, I'll make him wish he'd never taken them."

"But if the machine he had flying over here when he dropped that bombon the shed roof, and set fire to it, is the one he's going to racewith, it isn't like yours," suggested Mr. Damon, who was glad he hadturned the conversation into a more cheerful channel.

"That's so," agreed the young inventor. "Well, we'll have to wait andsee." He was busy now, going over every detail of the Humming-Bird. Mr.Damon helped him, and they discovered the defect in the equilibriumweights, and remedied it.

"We can't afford to have an accident in the race," said Tom. He glancedtoward the house, and wondered if the operation had begun yet. He couldsee the trained nurse hurrying here and there, Mrs. Baggert helping her.

Eradicate Sampson shuffled out from the stable where he kept his muleBoomerang. On the face of the honest colored man there was a dejectedlook.

"Am Massa Swift any better, Massa Tom?" he asked.

"We can't tell yet," was the answer.

"Well, if he doan't git well, den I'm goin' t' sell mah mule," went onthe dirt-chaser, from which line of activity Eradicate had derived hisname.

"Sell Boomerang! Bless my curry comb! what for?" asked Mr. Damon.

"'Case as how he wouldn't neber be any good fo' wuk any mo'," explainedEradicate. "He's got so attached t' dis place, an' all de folkes on it,dat he'd feel so sorry ef—ef—well, ef any ob 'em went away, dat Icouldn't git no mo' wuk out ob him, no how. So ef Massa Swift doan'tgit well, den I an' Boomerang parts!"

"Well, we hope it won't happen," said Tom, greatly touched by thesimple grief of Eradicate. The young inventor was silent a moment, andthen he softly added: "I—I wonder when—when we'll know?"

"Soon now, I think," answered Mr. Damon, in a low voice.

Silently they waited about the aeroplane. Tom tried to busy himself,but he could not. He kept his eyes fastened on the house.

It seemed like several hours, but it was not more than one, ere thewhite-capped nurse came to the door and waved her hand to Tom. Hesprang to his feet and rushed forward. What would be the message he wasto receive?

He stood before the nurse, his heart madly beating. She looked gentlyat him.

"Will he—will he live?" Tom asked, pantingly.

"I think so," she answered gently. "The operation is over. It was asuccess, so far. Time alone will tell, now. Dr. Hendrix says you cansee your father for just a moment."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Off to the Meet

Softly Tom tiptoed into the room where his father lay. At the bedsidewere the three doctors, and the nurse followed the young inventor in.Mrs. Baggert stood in the hall, and near her was Garret Jackson. Theaged housekeeper had been weeping, but she smiled at Tom through hertears.

"I think he's going to get well," she whispered. She always looked onthe bright side of things. Tom's heart felt better.

"You must only speak a few words to him," cautioned the specialist, whohad performed such a rare and delicate operation, near the heart of theinvalid. "He is very weak, Tom."

Mr. Swift opened his eyes as his son approached. He looked aroundfeebly.

"Tom—are you there?" he asked in a whisper.

"Yes, dad," was the eager answer.

"They tell me you—you made a great trip to get Dr. Hendrix—brokenbridge—came through the air with him. Is that right?"

"Yes, dad. But don't tire yourself. You must get well and strong."

"I will, Tom. But tell me; did you go in—in the Humming-Bird?"

"Yes, dad."

"How did she work?"

"Fine. Over a hundred, and the motor wasn't at its best."

"That's good. Then you can go in the big race, and win."

"No, I don't believe I'll go, dad."

"Why not?" Mr. Swift spoke more strongly.

"I—because—well, I don't want to."

"Nonsense, Tom! I know; it's on my account. I know it is. But listen tome. I want you to go in! I want you to win that race! Never mind aboutme. I'm going to get well, and I'll recover all the more quickly if youwin that race. Now promise me you'll go in it and—and—win!"

The invalid's strength was fast leaving him.

"I—I—-," began Tom.

"Promise!" insisted the aged inventor, trying to rise. Dr. Hendrix madea hasty move toward the bed.

"Promise!" whispered the surgeon to Tom.

"I—I promise!" exclaimed Tom, and the aged inventor sank back with asmile of satisfaction on his pale face.

"Now you must go," said Dr. Gladby to Tom. "He has talked long enough.He must sleep now, and get up his strength."

"Will he get better?" asked Tom, anxiously.

"We can't say for sure," was the answer. "We have great hopes."

"I don't want to enter the race unless I know he is going to live,"went on Tom, as Dr. Gladby followed him out of the room.

"No one can say for a certainty that he will recover," spoke thephysician. "You will have to hope for the best, that is all, Tom. If Iwere you I'd go in the race. It will occupy your mind, and if you couldsend good news to your father it might help him in the fight for lifehe is making."

"But suppose—suppose something happens while I am away?" suggested theyoung inventor.

The doctor thought for a moment. Then he exclaimed:

"You have a wireless outfit on your craft; haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you can receive messages from here every hour if you wish. GarretJackson, your engineer, can send them, and you can pick them up inmid-air if need be."

"So I can!" cried Tom. "I will go to the meet. I'll take theHumming-Bird apart at once, and ship it to Eagle Park. Unless Dr.Hendrix wants to go back in it," he added as an after thought.

"No," spoke Dr. Gladby, "Dr. Hendrix is going to remain here for a fewdays, in case of an emergency. By that time the bridge will have beenrepaired, and he can go back by train. I gather, from what he said,that though he liked the air trip, he will not care for another one."

"Very well," assented Tom, and Mr. Damon and he were kept busy, packingthe Humming-Bird for shipment. Mr. Jackson helped them, and Eradicateand his mule Boomerang were called on occasionally when boxes or crateswere to be taken to the railroad station.

In the meanwhile, Mr. Swift, if he did not improve any, at least heldhis own. This the doctors said was a sign of hope, and, though Tom wasfilled with anxiety, he tried to think that fate would be kind to him,and that his father would recover. Dr. Hendrix left, saying there wasnothing more he could do, and that the rest depended on the localphysicians, and on the nurse.

"Und ve vill do our duty!" ponderously exclaimed Dr. Kurtz. "You go offto dot bird race, Dom, und doan't vorry. Ve vill send der with-out-viremessages to you venever dere is anyt'ing to report. Go mit a lightheart!"

How Tom wished he could, but it was out of the question. The last ofthe parts of the Humming-Bird had been sent away, and our heroforwarded a telegram to Mr. Sharp, of the arrangement committee,stating that he and Mr. Damon would soon follow. Then, having biddenhis father a fond farewell, and after arranging with Mr. Jackson tosend frequent wireless messages, Tom and the eccentric man left for themeet.

There was a wireless station at Eagle Park, and Tom had planned toreceive the messages from home there until he could set up his ownplant. He would have two outfits. One in the big tent where theHumming-Bird was to be put together, and another on the machine itself,so that when in the air, practicing, or even in the great race itself,there would be no break in the news that was to be flashed throughspace.

Tom and Mr. Damon arrived at Eagle Park on time, and Tom's firstinquiry was for a message from home. There was one, stating that Mr.Swift was fairly comfortable, and seemed to be doing well. Withhappiness in his heart, the young inventor then set about getting theparts of his craft from the station to the park, where he and Mr.Damon, with a trusty machinist whom Mr. Sharp had recommended, wouldassemble it. Tom arranged that in his absence the wireless operator onthe grounds would take any message that came for him.

The Humming-Bird, in the big cases and boxes, had safely arrived, andthese were soon in the tent which had been assigned to Tom. It wasstill several days until the opening of the meet, and the groundspresented a scene of confusion.

Workmen were putting up grand stands, tents and sheds were beingerected, exhibitors were getting their machines in shape, and excitedcontestants of many nationalities were hurrying to and fro, inquiringabout parts delayed in shipment, or worrying lest some of their petideas be stolen.

Tom and Mr. Damon, with Frank Forker, the young machinist, were soonbusy in their big tent, which was a combined workshop and livingquarters, for Tom had determined to stay right on the ground until thebig race was over.

"I don't see anything of Andy Foger," remarked Mr. Damon, on the secondday of their residence in the park. "There are lots of new entriesarriving, but he doesn't seem to be on hand."

"There's time enough," replied Tom. "I am afraid he's hanging backuntil the last minute, and will spring his machine so late that I won'thave time to lodge a protest. It would be just like him."

"Well, I'll be on the lookout for him. Have you heard from home to-day,Tom?"

"No. I'm expecting a message any minute." The young inventor glancedtoward the wireless apparatus which had been set up in the tent. Atthat moment there came the peculiar sound which indicated a messagecoming through space, and down the receiving wires. "There's somethingnow!" exclaimed Tom, as he hurried over and clamped the telephonereceiver to his ear. He listened a moment.

"Good news!" he exclaimed. "Dad sat up a little to-day! I guess he'sgoing to get well!" and he clicked back congratulations to his fatherand the others in Shopton.

Another day saw the Humming-Bird almost in shape again, and Tom waspreparing for a tryout of the engine.

Mr. Damon had gone over to the committee headquarters to consult withMr. Sharp about the steps necessary for Tom to take in case Andy didattempt to enter a craft that infringed on the ideas of the younginventor, and on his way back he saw a newly-erected tent. There was ayoung man standing in the entrance, at the sight of whom the eccentricman murmured:

"Bless my skate-strap! His face looks very familiar!"

The youth disappeared inside the tent suddenly, and, as Mr. Damon cameopposite the canvas shelter, he started in surprise.

For, on a strip of muslin which was across the tent, painted in gaycolors, were the words:

THE FOGER AEROPLANE

"Bless my elevation rudder!" cried Mr. Damon. "Andy's here at last! Imust tell Tom!"

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Great Race

"Well," remarked Mr. Sharp, when Tom and Mr. Damon had called on him,to state that Andy Foger's machine was now on the grounds, anddemanding to be allowed to view it, to see if it was an infringement onthe one entered by the young inventor, "I'll do the best I can for you.I'll lay the case before the committee. It will meet at once, and I'lllet you know what they say."

"Understand," said Tom, "I don't want to interfere unless I amconvinced that Andy is trying an underhand trick. My plans are missing,and I think he took them. If his machine is made after those plans, itis, obviously, a steal, and I want him ruled out of the meet."

"And so he shall be!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp. "Get the evidence againsthim, and we'll act quickly enough."

The committee met in about an hour, and considered the case. Meanwhile,Tom and Mr. Damon strolled past the tent with its flaring sign. Therewas a man on guard, but Andy was not in sight.

Then Tom was sent for, and Mr. Sharp told him what conclusion had beenarrived at. It was this:

"Under the rules of the meet," said the balloonist, "we had toguarantee privacy to all the contestants until such time as they chooseto exhibit their machines. That is, they need not bring them out untiljust before the races," he added. "This is not a handicap affair, andthe speediest machine, or the one that goes to the greatest height,according to which class it enters, will win. In consequence we cannotforce any contestant to declare what kind of a machine he will useuntil he gets ready.

"Some are going to use the familiar type of biplanes and, as you cansee, there is no secret about them. They are trying them out now." Thiswas so, for several machines of this type were either in the air,circling about, or were being run over the ground.

"But others," continued Mr. Sharp, "will not even take the committeeinto their confidence until just before the race. They want to keeptheir craft a secret. We can't compel them to do otherwise. I'm sorry,Tom, but the only thing I see for you to do is to wait until the lastminute. Then, if you find Andy has infringed on your machine, lodge aprotest—that is unless you can get evidence against him before thattime."

Tom well knew the uselessness of the latter plan. He and Mr. Damon hadtried several times to get a glimpse of the craft Andy had made, butwithout success. As to the other alternative—that of waiting until thelast moment—Tom feared that, too, would be futile.

"For," he reasoned, "just before the race there will be a lot ofconfusion, officials will be here and there, scattered over the ground,they will be hard to find, and it will be almost useless to protestthen. Andy will enter the race, and there is a possibility that he maywin. Almost any one could with a machine like the Humming-Bird. It'sthe machine almost as much as the operator, in a case like this."

"But you can protest after the race," suggested Mr. Damon.

"That would be little good, in case Andy beat me. The public would sayI was a sorehead, and jealous. No, I've either got to stop Andy beforethe race, or not at all. I will try to think of a plan."

Tom did think of several, but abandoned them one after the other. Hetried to get a glimpse inside the tent where the Foger aeroplane washoused, but it was too closely guarded. Andy himself was not much inevidence, and Tom only had fleeting glimpses of the bully.

Meanwhile he and Mr. Damon, together with their machinist, were keptbusy. As Tom's craft was fully protected by patents now, he had nohesitation in taking it out, and it was given several severe testsaround the aerial course. It did even better than Tom expected of it,and he had great hopes.

Always, though, there were two things that worried him. One was hisfather's illness, and the other the uneasiness he felt as to what AndyFoger might do. As to the former, the wireless reports indicated thatMr. Swift was doing as well as could be expected, but his improvementwas not rapid. Regarding the latter worry, Tom saw no way of gettingrid of it.

"I've just got to wait, that's all," he thought.

The day before the opening of the meet, Tom and Mr. Damon had given theHumming-Bird a grueling tryout. They had taken her high up—so highthat no prying eyes could time them, and there Tom had opened the motorfor all the power in it. They had flashed through space at the rate ofone hundred and twenty miles an hour.

"If we can only do that in the race, the ten thousand dollars is mine!"exulted Tom, as he slanted the nose of the aeroplane toward the earth.

The day of the race dawned clear and beautiful. Tom was up early, forthere remained many little things to do to get his craft in final trimfor the contest. Then, too, he wanted to be ready to act promptly assoon as Andy's machine was wheeled out, and he also wanted to get amessage from home.

The wireless arrived soon after breakfast, and did not contain verycheering news.

"Your father not so well," Mr. Jackson sent. "Poor night, but doctorthinks day will show improvement. Don't worry."

"Don't worry! I wonder who could help it," mused poor Tom. "Well, I'llhope for the best," and he wired back to tell the engineer in Shoptonto keep in touch with him, and to flash the messages to theHumming-Bird in the air, after the big race started.

"Now I'll go out and see if I can catch a glimpse of what that sneakAndy has to pit against me," said Tom.

The Foger tent was tightly closed, and Tom turned back to his ownplace, having arranged with a messenger to come and let him know assoon as Andy's craft was wheeled out.

All about was a scene of great activity. The grand stands were filled,and a big crowd stood about the field anxiously waiting for the firstsight of the "bird-men" in their wonderful machines. Now and then theband blared out, and cheers arose as one after another the frail craftwere wheeled to the starting place.

Men in queer leather costumes darted here and there—they were theaviators who were soon to risk life and limb for glory and gold. Mostof them were nervously smoking cigarettes. The air was filled withguttural German or nasal French, while now and then the staccatoRussian was heard, and occasionally the liquid tones of a Japanese. Formen of many nations were competing for the prizes.

The majority of the machines were monoplanes and biplanes though onetriplane was entered, and there were several "freaks" as the biplaneand monoplane men called them—craft of the helicopter, or the wheeltype. There was also one Witzig Liore Dutilleul biplane, with threeplanes behind.

Tom was familiar with most of these types, but occasionally he saw anew one that excited his curiosity. However, he was more interested inwhat Andy Foger would turn out. Andy's machine had not been tried, andTom wondered how he dared risk flying in it, without at least apreliminary tryout. But Andy, and those with him, were evidently fullof confidence.

News of the suspicions of Tom, and what he intended to do in case thesesuspicions proved true, had gotten around, and there was quite a crowdabout his own tent, and another throng around that of Andy.

Tom and Mr. Damon had wheeled the Humming-Bird out of her canvas"nest." There was a cheer as the crowd caught sight of the trim littlecraft. The young inventor, the eccentric man, and the machinist werebusy going over every part.

Meanwhile the meet had been officially opened, and it was announcedthat the preliminary event would be some air evolutions at no greatheight, and for no particular prize. Several biplanes and monoplanestook part in this. It was very interesting, but the bigten-thousand-dollar race, over a distance of a hundred miles was theprincipal feature of the meet, and all waited anxiously for this.

The opening stunts passed off successfully, save that a German operatorin a Bleriot came to grief, crashing down to the ground, wrecking hismachine, and breaking an arm. But he only laughed at that, and coollydemanded another cigarette, as he crawled out of the tangle of wires,planes and the motor.

After this there was an exhibition flight by a French aviator in aCurtis biplane, who raced against one in a Baby Wright. It was a deadheat, according to the judges. Then came a flight for height; and whileno records were broken, the crowd was well satisfied.

"Get ready for the hundred-mile ten-thousand-dollar-prize race!"shouted the announcer, through his megaphone.

Tom's heart gave a bound. There were seven entrants in this contestbesides Tom and Andy Foger, and as announced by the starter they wereas follows:

CONTESTANT                   MACHINE      Von Bergen.................Wright Biplane      Alameda..............Antoinette Monoplane      Perique.................Bleriot Monoplane      Loi Tong..........Santos-Dumont Monoplane      Wendell....................Curtis Biplane      De Tromp...................Farman Biplane      Lascalle.............Demoiselle Monoplane      Andy Foger.................    ----------      Tom Swift..........Humming-Bird Monoplane

"What is the style of the Foger machine?" yelled some one in the crowd,as the announcer lowered his megaphone.

"It has not been announced," was the reply. "It will at once be wheeledout though, in accordance with the conditions of the race."

There was a craning of necks, and an uneasy movement in the crowd, forTom's story was now generally known.

"Get ready to make your protest," advised Mr. Damon to the younginventor. "I'll stay by the machine here until you come back. Bless myradiator! I hope you beat him!"

"I will, if it's possible!" murmured Tom, with a grim tightening of hislips.

There was a movement about Andy's tent, whence, for the last half hourhad come spasmodic noises that indicated the trying-out of the motor.The flaps were pulled back and a curious machine was wheeled into view.Tom rushed over toward it, intent on getting the first view. Would itprove to be a copy of his speedy Humming-Bird?

Eagerly he looked, but a curious sight met his eyes. The machine wastotally unlike any he had expected to see. It was large, and to hismind rather clumsy, but it looked powerful. Then, as he took in thedetails, he knew that it was the same one that had flown over his housethat night—it was the one from which the fire bomb had been dropped.

He pushed his way through the crowd. He saw Andy standing near thecurious biplane, which type of air craft it nearest resembled, thoughit had some monoplane features. On the side was painted the name:

SLUGGER

Andy caught sight of Tom Swift.

"I'm going to beat you!" the bully boasted, "and I haven't a machinelike yours, after all. You were wrong."

"So I see," stammered Tom, hardly knowing what to think. "What did youdo with my plans then?"

"I never had them!"

Andy turned away, and began to assist the men he had hired to help him.Like all the others, his machine had two seats, for in this race eachoperator must carry a passenger.

Tom turned away, both glad and sorry,—glad that his rival was not torace him in a duplicate of the Humming-Bird, but sorry that he had asyet no track of the strangely missing plans.

"I wonder where they can be?" mused the young inventor.

Then came the firing of the preliminary gun. Tom rushed back to whereMr. Damon stood waiting for him.

There was a last look at the Humming-Bird. She was fit to race anymachine on the ground. Mr. Damon took his place. Tom started thepropeller. The other contestants were in their seats with theirpassengers. Their assistants stood ready to shove them off. Theexplosions of so many motors in action were deafening.

"How much thrust?" cried Tom to his machinist.

"Twenty-two hundred pounds!"

"Good!"

The report of the starting-gun could not be heard. But the smoke of itleaped into the air. It was the signal to go.

Tom's voice would not have carried five feet. He waved his hands as asignal. His helper thrust the Humming-Bird forward. Over the smoothground it rushed. Tom looked eagerly ahead. On a line with him were theother machines, including Andy Foger's Slugger.

Tom pulled a lever. He felt his craft soar upward. The other machinesalso pointed their noses into the air.

The big race for the ten-thousand-dollar prize was under way!

Chapter Twenty-Four

Won by a Length

Rising upward, on a steep slant, for he wanted to get into the uppercurrents as soon as possible, Tom looked down and off to his left andsaw one machine going over the ground in curious leaps and bounds. Itwas the tiny Demoiselle—the smallest craft in the race, and itspeculiar style of starting was always thus manifested.

"I don't believe he's going to make it," thought Tom.

He was right. In another moment the tiny craft, after rising a shortdistance, dove downward, and was wrecked. The young inventor saw thetwo men crawling out from the tangled planes and wings, apparentlyuninjured.

"One contestant less," thought Tom, grimly, though with pity in hisheart for the unfortunates.

However, he must think of himself and his own craft now. He glanced atMr. Damon sitting beside him. That odd gentleman, with never a thoughtof blessing anything now, unless he did it silently, was watching thelubricating system. This was a vital part of the craft, for if anythingwent wrong with it, and the bearings overheated, the race would have tobe abandoned. So Tom was not trusting to any automatic arrangement, buthad instituted, almost at the last moment, a duplicate hand-workedsystem, so that if one failed him he would have the other.

"A good start!" shouted Mr. Damon in his ear.

Tom nodded, and glanced behind him. On a line with the Humming-Bird,and at about the same elevation, were the Bleriot monoplane and aWright biplane. Below were the Santos-Dumont and the Antoinette.

"Where's the Slugger?" called Tom to his friend.

Mr. Damon motioned upward. There, in the air above Tom's machine, andslightly in advance, was Andy Foger's craft. He had gotten away inbetter shape than had the Humming-Bird.

For a moment Tom's heart misgave him. Then he turned on more power, andhad the satisfaction of mounting upward and shooting onward until hewas on even terms with Andy.

The bully gave one glance over toward his rival, and pulled a lever.The Slugger increased her speed, but Tom was not a second behind him.

There was a roaring noise in the rear, and up shot De Tromp in theFarman, and Loi Tong, the little Japanese, in the Santos-Dumont. Trulythe race was going to be a hotly contested one. But the end was far offyet.

After the first jockeying for a start and position, the race settleddown into what might be termed a "grind." The course was a large one,but so favorable was the atmosphere that day, and such was the locationof Eagle Park in a great valley, that even on the far side of the greatellipse the contestants could be seen, dimly with the naked eye, butvery plainly with glasses, with which many of the spectators wereprovided.

Around and around they went, at no very great height, for it wasnecessary to make out the signals set up by the race officials, so thatthe contestants would know when they were near the finish, that theymight use the last atom of speed. So at varying heights the wonderfulmachines circled about the course.

The Humming-Bird was working well, and Tom felt a sense of pride as hesaw the ground slipping away below him. He felt sure that he would win,even when Alameda, the Spaniard, in the Antoinette, came creeping up onhim, and even when Andy Foger, with a burst of speed, placed himselfand his passenger in the lead.

"I'll catch him!" muttered Tom, and he opened the throttle a triflewider, and went after Andy, passing him with ease.

They had covered about thirty miles of the course, when the humming andcrackling of the wireless apparatus told Tom that a message was coming.He snapped the receiver to his ear, adjusting the outer covering toshut out the racket of the motor, and listened.

"Well?" asked Mr. Damon, as Tom took off the receiver.

"Dad isn't quite so well," answered the lad. "Mr. Jackson says theyhave sent for Dr. Hendrix again. But dad is game. He sends me word togo on and win, and I'll do it, too, only—"

Tom paused, and choked back a sob. Then he prepared to get more speedout of his motor.

"Of course you will!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my—!"

But they encountered an adverse current of wind at that moment, and itrequired the attention of both of the aviators to manage the machine.It was soon on an even keel again, and once more was shooting forwardaround the course.

At times Tom would be in advance, and again he would have to give placeto the Curtis, the Farman, or the Santos-Dumont, as these speedymachines, favored by a spurt from their motors, or by some current ofair, shot ahead. But, in general, Tom maintained the lead, and amongthe spectators there began a series of guesses as to how much he wouldwin by.

Tom glanced at the barograph. It registered a little over twelvehundred feet. He looked at the speed gage. He was doing a trifle betterthan a hundred miles an hour. He looked down at the signals. There wastwenty miles yet to go. It was almost time for the spurt for which hehad been holding back. Yet he would wait until five miles from the end,and then he felt that he could gain and maintain a lead.

"Andy seems to be doing well," said Mr. Damon.

"Yes, he has a good machine," conceded Tom.

Five miles more were reeled off. Then another five. Another round ofthat distance and Tom would key his motor up to the highest pitch, andthen the Humming-Bird would show what she could do. Eagerly Tom waitedfor the right signal.

Suddenly the wireless began buzzing again. Quickly the young inventorclamped the receiver to his ear. Mr. Damon saw him turn pale.

"Dr. Gladby says dad has a turn for the worse. There is little hope,"translated Tom.

"Will you—are you going to quit?" asked Mr. Damon.

Tom shook his head.

"No!" he cried. "My father has become unconscious, so Mr. Jackson says,but his last words were to me: 'Tell Tom to win the race!' And I'mgoing to do it!"

Tom suddenly changed his plans. There was to be no waiting for thesignal now. He would begin his final spurt, and if possible finish thehundred miles at his utmost speed, win the race and then hasten to hisfather's side.

With a menacing roar the motor of the Humming-Bird took up theadditional power that Tom sent into her. She shot ahead like an eagledarting after his prey. Tom opened up a big gap between his machine andthe one nearest him, which, at that moment, was the Antoinette, withthe Spaniard driving her.

"Now to win!" cried Tom, grimly.

Surely no race was ever flown as was that one! Tom flashed through theair so quickly that his speed was almost incredible. The gageregistered one hundred and thirty miles an hour!

Down below in the grand stands, and on the aviation field, there wereyells of approval—of wonder—of fear. But Tom and Mr. Damon could nothear them. They only heard the powerful song of the motor.

Faster and faster flew the Humming-Bird. Tom looked down, and saw thesignal put up which meant that there were but three miles more to go.He felt that he could do it. He was half a lap ahead of them all now.But he saw Andy Foger's machine pulling away from the bunch.

"He's going to try to catch me!" exulted Tom.

Then something happened. The motor of the Humming-Bird suddenlyslackened its speed, it missed explosions, and the trim little craftbegan to drop behind.

"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Damon.

"Three of the cylinders are out of business!" yelled Tom. "We're donefor, I guess."

On came the other machines, Andy in the lead, then the Santos-Dumont,then the Farman, and lastly the Wright. They saw the plight of theHumming-Bird and determined to beat her. Tom cast a despairing look upat the motor. There was nothing to be done. He could not reach it inmid-air. He could only keep on, crippled as he was, and trust to luck.

Andy passed by his rival with an evil smile on his ugly face. Then theAntoinette flashed by. In turn all the others left Tom in the rear. Hisheart was like lead. Mr. Damon gazed blankly forward. They were beaten.It did not seem possible.

There was but a single chance. If Tom shut off all power, coasted for amoment, and then, ere the propeller had ceased revolving, if he couldstart the motor on the spark, the silent cylinders might pick up, withthe others, and begin again. He would try it. They could be no worseoff than they were.

"A mile behind!" gasped Tom. "It's a long chance, but I'll take it."

He shut off the power. The motor was silent, the Humming-Bird began tofall. But ere she had gone down ten feet Tom suddenly switched on thebatteries. There was a moment of silence, and then came the welcomeroar that told of the rekindled motor. And such a roar as it was! Everycylinder was exploding as though none of them had ever stopped!

"We did it!" yelled Tom. Opening up at full speed, he sent the skyracer on the course to overtake and pass his rivals.

Slowly he crept on them. They looked back and saw him coming. Theytried to put on more speed, but it was impossible. Andy Foger was inthe lead. He was being slowly overhauled by the Santos-Dumont, withthe queer tail-rudders.

"I'll get him!" muttered Tom. "I'll pass 'em all!"

And he did. With a wonderful burst of speed the little Humming-Birdovertook one after another of her larger rivals, and passed them. Thenshe crept up on Andy's Slugger.

In an instant more it was done, and, a good length in advance of theFoger craft, Tom shot over the finish line a winner, richer by tenthousand dollars, and, not only that, but he had picked up a mile thathad been lost, and had snatched victory from almost certain defeat.

There was a succession of thundering cheers as he shut off the motor,and volplaned to earth, but he paid little attention to them. Hebrought his craft to a stop just as the wireless on it buzzed again.

He listened with a look of pain on his face.

"My father is dying," he said simply. "I must go to him. Mr. Damon,will you fill the tanks with oil and gasoline, while I send off amessage?"

"Oil and gasoline," murmured the odd man, while hundreds pressed up tocongratulate Tom Swift "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to my father in the Humming-Bird," said Tom. "It's the onlyway I can see him alive," and he began to click off a message to Mr.Jackson, stating that he had won the race and was going to fly toShopton, while Mr. Damon and several others replenished the fuel andoil of the aeroplane.

Tom Swift had won one race. Could he win the other?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Home Again—Conclusion

Mr. Sharp pushed his way through the crowd.

"The committee has the certified check ready for you, Tom," called theballoonist. "Will you come and get it?"

"Send it to me, please," answered the young inventor. "I must go to myfather."

"Huh! I'd have beaten him in another round," boasted Andy Foger. No onepaid any attention to him.

"Monsieur ezz plucky!" said the Frenchman, Perique. "I am honaired toshake his hand! He has broken all ze records!"

"Dot's der best machine I effer saw," spoke the Dutchman, De Tromp,ponderously. "Shake hands!"

"Ver' fine, ver' good!" came from the little Japanese, and all thecontestants congratulated Tom warmly. Never before had a hundred milesbeen covered so speedily.

A man elbowed his way through the press of people.

"Is your machine fully protected by patents?" he inquired earnestly.

"It is," said Tom.

"Then, as a representative of the United States Government, I wouldlike an option to purchase the exclusive right to use them," said theman. "Can you guarantee that no one else has any plans of them? Itwill mean a fortune to you."

Tom hesitated. He thought of the stolen plans. If he could only getpossession of them! He glanced at Andy Foger, who was wheeling hismachine back into the tent. But there was no time now to have it outwith the bully.

"I will see you again," said Tom to the government agent. "I must go tomy father, who is dying. I can't answer you now."

The tanks were filled. Tom gave a hasty look to his machine, and,bidding his new friends farewell, he and Mr. Damon took their placesaboard the Humming-Bird. The little craft rose in the air, and soonthey had left Eagle Park far behind. Eagerly Tom strained his eyes fora sight of his home town, though he knew it would be several hours erehe could hover over it.

Would he be in time? Would he be in time? That question came to himagain and again.

For a time the Humming-Bird skimmed along as though she delighted inthe rapid motion, in slipping through the air and sliding along on thebillows of wind. Tom, with critical ears, listened to the hum of themotor, the puffing of the exhaust, the grinding of the gear wheels, andthe clicking of the trips, as valve after valve opened or closed toadmit the mixture of air and gasoline, or closed to give thecompression necessary for the proper explosion.

"Is she working all right?" asked Mr. Damon, anxiously, and, such wasthe strain on him that he did not think to bless anything. "Is she allright, Tom, my lad?"

"I think so. I'm speeding her to the limit. Faster than I ever didbefore, but I guess she'll do. She was built to stand a strain, andshe's got to do it now!"

Then there was silence again, as they slid along through the air like acoaster gliding down a steep descent.

"It was a great race, wasn't it?" asked Mr. Damon, as he shifted to aneasier position in his seat. "A great race, Tom. I didn't think you'ddo it, one spell there."

"Neither did I," came the answer, as the young inventor changed thespark lever. "But I made up my mind I wouldn't be beaten by Andy Foger,if I could help it. Though it was taking a risk to shut off the currentthe way I did."

"A risk?"

"Yes; it might not have started again," and Tom looked down at theearth below them, as if measuring the distance he would have fallen hadnot his sky racer kept on at the critical moment.

"And—and if the current hadn't come on again; eh, Tom? Would we—?"

Mr. Damon did not finish, but Tom knew what he meant.

"It would have been all up with us," he said simply. "I might havevolplaned back to earth, but at the speed we were going, and at theheight, around a curve, we might have turned turtle."

"Bless my—!" began Mr. Damon, and then he stopped. The thought ofTom's trouble came to him, and he realized that his words might grateon the feelings of his companion.

On they rushed through the air with the Humming-Bird speeded up fasterand faster as she warmed to her task. The machinery seemed to beworking perfectly, and as Tom listened to the hum a look of pleasurereplaced the look of anxiety on his face.

"Don't you think we'll make it?" asked Mr. Damon, after another pause,during which they passed over a large city, the inhabitants exhibitingmuch excitement as they sighted the airship over their heads.

"We've got to make it!" declared Tom between his clenched teeth.

He turned on a little more gasoline, and there was a spurt in theirspeed which made Mr. Damon grasp the upright braces near him with firmhands, and his face became a little paler.

"It's all right," spoke Tom, reassuringly. "There's no danger."

But Tom almost reckoned without his host, for a few moments later, ashe was trying to get more revolutions out of the propellers, he raninto an adverse current of air.

In an instant the Humming-Bird was tilted up almost on her "beams'ends," so to speak, and had it not been that the young inventor quicklywarped the wing tips, to counteract the pressure on one side, theremight have been a different end to this story.

"Bless my——!" began Mr. Damon, but he got no further, for he had tobend his body as Tom did, to equalize the pressure of the wind current.

"A little farther over!" yelled the lad. "A little farther over thisway, Mr. Damon!"

"But if I come any more toward you I'll be out of my seat!" objectedthe eccentric man.

"If you don't you'll be out of the aeroplane!" cried Tom grimly, andhis companion leaned over as far as he could until the young pilot hadbrought the craft to an even keel again.

Then Tom speeded up the motor, which he had partly shut down as theypassed through the danger zone, and again they were racing throughspace.

They were nearing Shopton now, as the lad and Mr. Damon could tell bythe familiar landmarks which loomed up in sight. Tom strained his eyesfor the first view of his home.

Suddenly, as they were skimming along, there came a cessation of thehum and roar that told of the perfectly-working motor. It was anominous silence.

"What's—what's wrong?" gasped Mr. Damon.

"Something's given way," answered Tom quickly. "I'm afraid the magnetoisn't sparking as it ought to."

"Well, can't we volplane back to earth?" asked the odd man, for he hadbecome familiar with this feat when anything happened to the motor.

"We could," answered Tom, "but I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because we're too far from Shopton—and dad! I'm going to keep on.I've got to—if I want to be there in time!"

"But if the motor doesn't work?"

"I'll make her work!"

Tom was desperately manipulating the various levers and handlesconnected with the electrical ignition system. He tried in vain to getthe magneto to resume the giving out of sparks, and, failing in that,he switched on the batteries. But, to his horror, the dry cells hadgiven out. There was no way of getting a spark unless the littleelectrical machine would work.

The propellers were still whirring around by their own momentum, and ifTom could switch in the magneto in time all might yet be well.

They had started to fall, but, by quickly bringing up the head planetips, Tom sent his craft soaring upward again on a bank of air.

"Here!" he cried to Mr. Damon. "Take the steering-wheel and kept her onthis level as long as you can."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've got to fix that magneto!"

"But if she dips down?"

"Throw up the head planes as I did. It's our only chance! I can't godown now, so far from Shopton!"

Mr. Damon reached over and took the wheel from Tom's hands. Then theyoung inventor, leaning forward, for the magneto was within easy reach,looked to see what the trouble was. He found it quickly. A wire hadvibrated loose from a binding-post. In a second Tom had it in placeagain; and, ere the propellers had ceased revolving, he had turned theswitch. The magneto took up the work in a flash. Once more the sparkexploded the gasoline mixture, and the propellers sent the Humming-Birdswiftly ahead.

"We'll make it now!" declared Tom grimly.

"We're almost there," added Mr. Damon, as he relinquished the wheel tothe young pilot. The craft had gone down some, but Tom sent her upagain.

Nearer and nearer home they came, until at last the spires of theShopton churches loomed into view. Then he was over the village. Now hewas within sight of his own house.

Tom coasted down a bank of air, and brought the Humming-Bird up with ajerk of the ground brakes. Before the wheels had ceased turning he hadleaped out.

"It's Massa Tom!" cried Eradicate, as he saw Tom alight.

The young inventor hurried into the house. He was met by the nurse, whoheld up a warning finger. Tom's heart almost stopped beating. He wasaware that Dr. Gladby came from the room where Mr. Swift lay.

"Is he—is he—am I too late?" gulped Tom.

"Hush!" cautioned the nurse.

Tom reeled, and would have fallen had not the doctor caught him, forthe lad was weak and worn out.

"He is going to get well!" were the joyful words he heard, as if in adream, and then his strength suddenly came back to him. "The crisis isjust passed, Tom," went on Dr. Gladby, "and your father will recover,and be stronger than ever. Your good news of winning was like a tonicto him. Now let me congratulate you on the race." Tom had flashed bywireless a brief message of his success.

"Dad's news is better than all the congratulations in the world," hesaid softly, as he grasped the doctor's hand.

* * * *

It was a week later. Mr. Swift improved rapidly once the course of thedisease was permanently checked, and he was soon able to sit up. Tomwas with him in the room, talking of the great race, and how he hadwon. He fingered the certified check for ten thousand dollars that hadjust come to him by mail.

"You certainly did wonderfully well," said the aged inventor, softly."Wonderfully well, Tom. I'm proud of you."

"You may well be," added Mr. Damon. "Bless my shoelaces, but I thoughtAndy Foger had us there one spell; didn't you, Tom?"

"Indeed I did. But you helped me win, Mr. Damon."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the odd man.

"Yes, you did. You helped me a lot."

"Well, are you going to keep after more air-prizes, Tom, or are yougoing to try for something else?" asked his father.

"I don't believe I'll go in any more aeroplane races right away,"answered the young inventor. "For some time I've been wanting tocomplete and perfect my electric rifle. I think I'll begin work on thatsoon."

"And go hunting?" asked Mr. Damon.

"I think so," answered Tom, dreamily. "I don't know just where, though."

Where he went, and what he shot, will be told in the next volume ofthis series, to be called: "Tom Swift and His Electric Rifle; or,Daring Adventures in Elephant Land."

For a few moments after Tom's announcement no one spoke, then the younginventor said:

"It's too bad that first set of plans were stolen. If I had them Icould make a good deal with the Government about my little aeroplane.But they don't want to take up with it as long as there is a chance ofsome foreign nation getting information about the secret parts, and mypatents won't hold abroad. I wonder if there is any way of gettingthose plans away from Andy Foger? I don't understand why he hasn't usedthem before this. I thought sure he would make a craft like theHumming-Bird to race against me."

"What plans are those?" asked Mr. Swift.

"Why, don't you remember?" asked Tom. "The ones I showed you one day,in the library, when you fell asleep, and some one slipped in and stolethem."

A curious look came over Mr. Swift's face. He passed his hand acrosshis brow.

"I am beginning to remember something I have been trying to recall eversince I became ill," he said slowly. "It is coming back to me. Thoseplans—in the library—I fell asleep, but before I did so I hid thoseplans, Tom!"

"You hid those plans!" Tom fairly shouted the words.

"Yes, I remember feeling a drowsy feeling coming on, and I feared lestsome one might see the drawings. I got up and put them under thewindow, in a little, hollow place in the foundation wall. Then I cameback in through the window again, and went to sleep. Then, on accountof my illness, just as I once before forgot something, and thought theminister had called, I lost all recollection of them. I hid thoseplans."

Tom leaped to his feet. He rushed to the place named by his father.Soon his triumphant shout told of his success. He came hurrying backinto the house with a roll of papers in his hands.

And there were the long-missing plans! damp and stained by the weather,but all there. No enemy had them, and Tom's secret was safe.

"Now I can accept the Government offer!" he cried. And a few weekslater he made a most advantageous deal with the United States officialsfor his patents.

Dr. Gladby explained that Mr. Swift's queer action was due to hisillness. He became liable to lapses of memory, and one happened justafter he hid away the plans. Even the hiding of them was caused by thepeculiar condition of his brain. He had opened the library window,slipped out with the papers, and hastened in again, to fall asleep inhis chair, during the short time Tom was gone.

"And Andy Foger never took them at all," remarked Mary Nestor, when Tomwas telling her about it a few days afterward.

"No. I guess I must apologize to him." Which Tom did, but Andy did notreceive it very graciously, especially as Tom accused him of trying todestroy the Humming-Bird.

Andy denied this and denied having anything to do with the mysteriousfire, and, as there was no way to prove him guilty, Tom could notproceed against him. So the matter was dropped.

Mr. Swift continued to improve, and was soon himself again, and able toresume his inventive work. Tom received several offers to giveexhibition flights at big aero meets, but refused, as he was busy onhis new rifle. Mr. Damon helped him.

Andy Foger made several successful flights in his queer aeroplane,which turned out to be the product of a German genius who was suppliedwith money by Mr. Foger. Andy became very proud, and boasted that heand the German were going abroad to give flights in Europe.

"I'd be glad if he would," said Tom, when he heard of the plan. "Hewouldn't bother me then."

With the money received from winning the big race, and from hiscontracts from the Government, Tom Swift was now in a fair way tobecome quite wealthy. He was destined to have many more adventures;yet, come what might, never would he forget the thrilling happeningsthat fell to his lot while flying for the ten-thousand dollar prize inhis sky racer.

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