her upward, after she had hovered for an instant
over the big shed.

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

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

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

The queer aeroplane was now shooting off in the darkness and Tom
followed it with the glasses, wondering what its construction could be
like. 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 have
slept 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 grew
wider awake he knew that it was the shouting of Eradicate Sampson, and
the 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' de
Humming-Bird will burn up! Hurry! Hurry!"

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

Chapter Seventeen

Mr. Swift is Worse

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

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

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

"What is it?" he called anxiously.

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

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

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