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.