Tom Swift and His Sky Racer Part 28

There was a succession of thundering cheers as he shut off the motor, and volplaned to earth, but he paid little attention to them. He brought 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 a message?"

"Oil and gasoline," murmured the odd man, while hundreds pressed up to congratulate Tom Swift "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to my father in the Humming-Bird," said Tom. "It's the only way 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 to Shopton, while Mr. Damon and several others replenished the fuel and oil 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 the balloonist. "Will you come and get it?"

"Send it to me, please," answered the young inventor. "I must go to my father."

"Huh! I'd have beaten him in another round," boasted Andy Foger. No one paid any attention to him.

"Monsieur ezz plucky!" said the Frenchman, Perique. "I am honaired to shake 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 j.a.panese, and all the contestants congratulated Tom warmly. Never before had a hundred miles been 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 would like an option to purchase the exclusive right to use them," said the man. "Can you guarantee that no one else has any plans of them? It will mean a fortune to you."

Tom hesitated. He thought of the stolen plans. If he could only get possession of them! He glanced at Andy Foger, who was wheeling his machine back into the tent. But there was no time now to have it out with the bully.

"I will see you again," said Tom to the government agent. "I must go to my 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 places aboard the Humming-Bird. The little craft rose in the air, and soon they had left Eagle Park far behind. Eagerly Tom strained his eyes for a sight of his home town, though he knew it would be several hours ere he could hover over it.

Would he be in time? Would he be in time? That question came to him again and again.

For a time the Humming-Bird skimmed along as though she delighted in the rapid motion, in slipping through the air and sliding along on the billows of wind. Tom, with critical ears, listened to the hum of the motor, the puffing of the exhaust, the grinding of the gear wheels, and the clicking of the trips, as valve after valve opened or closed to admit the mixture of air and gasoline, or closed to give the compression necessary for the proper explosion.

"Is she working all right?" asked Mr. Damon, anxiously, and, such was the strain on him that he did not think to bless anything. "Is she all right, Tom, my lad?"

"I think so. I'm speeding her to the limit. Faster than I ever did before, but I guess she'll do. She was built to stand a strain, and she's got to do it now!"

Then there was silence again, as they slid along through the air like a coaster gliding down a steep descent.

"It was a great race, wasn't it?" asked Mr. Damon, as he s.h.i.+fted to an easier position in his seat. "A great race, Tom. I didn't think you'd do it, one spell there."

"Neither did I," came the answer, as the young inventor changed the spark 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 current the way I did."

"A risk?"

"Yes; it might not have started again," and Tom looked down at the earth below them, as if measuring the distance he would have fallen had not 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 have volplaned back to earth, but at the speed we were going, and at the height, around a curve, we might have turned turtle."

"Bless my--!" began Mr. Damon, and then he stopped. The thought of Tom's trouble came to him, and he realized that his words might grate on the feelings of his companion.

On they rushed through the air with the Humming-Bird speeded up faster and faster as she warmed to her task. The machinery seemed to be working perfectly, and as Tom listened to the hum a look of pleasure replaced the look of anxiety on his face.

"Don't you think we'll make it?" asked Mr. Damon, after another pause, during which they pa.s.sed over a large city, the inhabitants exhibiting much excitement as they sighted the airs.h.i.+p 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 their speed which made Mr. Damon grasp the upright braces near him with firm hands, and his face became a little paler.

"It's all right," spoke Tom, rea.s.suringly. "There's no danger."

But Tom almost reckoned without his host, for a few moments later, as he was trying to get more revolutions out of the propellers, he ran into 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 quickly warped the wing tips, to counteract the pressure on one side, there might have been a different end to this story.

"Bless my----!" began Mr. Damon, but he got no further, for he had to bend his body as Tom did, to equalize the pressure of the wind current.

"A little farther over!" yelled the lad. "A little farther over this way, Mr. Damon!"

"But if I come any more toward you I'll be out of my seat!" objected the eccentric man.

"If you don't you'll be out of the aeroplane!" cried Tom grimly, and his companion leaned over as far as he could until the young pilot had brought the craft to an even keel again.

Then Tom speeded up the motor, which he had partly shut down as they pa.s.sed through the danger zone, and again they were racing through s.p.a.ce.