hope your answer will be favorable."

Tom did not sleep well the remainder of the night, for his fitful
slumbers were disturbed by dreams of enormous caves, filled with
diamonds, with dark, shadowy figures trying to put him into a red-hot
steel box. Once he awakened with a start, and put his hand under his
pillow to feel if the two stones Mr. Jenks had given him, were still
there. They had not been disturbed.

Tom made up his mind to find out if the stones were really diamonds,
before saying anything to his father about the chance of going to seek
Phantom Mountain. And the young inventor wished to get the opinion of
some other jeweler than Mr. Track--at least, at first.

"Though if this one proves to be a good gem, I'll have Mr. Track set it
in a brooch, and give it to Mary for her birthday," decided the young
inventor. "Guess I'll take a run over to Chester in the Butterfly, and
see what one of the jewelers there has to say."

In addition to his big airship, Red Cloud, Tom owned a small, swift
monoplane, which he called Butterfly. This had been damaged by Andy
Foger just before Tom left on the trip that ended at Earthquake Island,
but the monoplane had been repaired, and Andy had left town, not having
returned since.

Telling his father that he was going off on a little business trip,
which he often did in his aeroplane, Tom, with the aid of Mr. Jackson,
the engineer, wheeled the Butterfly out of its shed.

Adjusting the mechanism, and seeing that it was in good shape, Tom took
his place in one of the two seats, for the monoplane would carry two.
Mr. Jackson then spun the propellers, and, with a crackle and roar the
motor started. Over the ground ran the dainty, little aeroplane, until,
having momentum enough, Tom tilted the wing planes and the machine
sailed up into the air.

Rising about a thousand feet, and circling about several times to test
the wind currents, Tom headed his craft toward Chester, a city about
fifty miles from Shopton. In his pocket, snugly tucked away, were the
two stones Mr. Jenks had given him.

It was not long before Tom saw, looming up in the distance the church
spires and towering factory chimneys of Chester, for his machine was a
speedy one, and could make ninety miles an hour when driven. But now a
slower speed satisfied our hero.

"I'll just drop down outside of the city," he reasoned, "for too much
of a crowd gathers when I land in the street. Besides I might frighten
horses, a