" 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 shifted 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