was a roaring noise in the rear, and up shot De Tromp in the
Farman, and Loi Tong, the little Japanese, in the Santos-Dumont. Truly
the race was going to be a hotly contested one. But the end was far off
yet.

After the first jockeying for a start and position, the race settled
down 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 location
of Eagle Park in a great valley, that even on the far side of the great
ellipse the contestants could be seen, dimly with the naked eye, but
very plainly with glasses, with which many of the spectators were
provided.

Around and around they went, at no very great height, for it was
necessary to make out the signals set up by the race officials, so that
the contestants would know when they were near the finish, that they
might use the last atom of speed. So at varying heights the wonderful
machines circled about the course.

The Humming-Bird was working well, and Tom felt a sense of pride as he
saw the ground slipping away below him. He felt sure that he would win,
even when Alameda, the Spaniard, in the Antoinette, came creeping up on
him, and even when Andy Foger, with a burst of speed, placed himself
and his passenger in the lead.

"I'll catch him!" muttered Tom, and he opened the throttle a trifle
wider, and went after Andy, passing him with ease.

They had covered about thirty miles of the course, when the humming and
crackling of the wireless apparatus told Tom that a message was coming.
He snapped the receiver to his ear, adjusting the outer covering to
shut 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 they
have sent for Dr. Hendrix again. But dad is game. He sends me word to
go on and win, and I'll do it, too, only--"

Tom paused, and choked back a sob. Then he prepared to get more speed
out of his motor.

"Of course you will!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my--!"

But they encountered an adverse current of wind at that moment, and it
required the attention of both of the aviators to manage the machine.
It was soon on an even keel again, and once more was shooting forward
around the course.

At times Tom would be in advance, and again he would have to give place
to the Curtis, the Farman, or the Santos-Dumont, as these speedy
machines, favored by a spurt from their motors, or