"Well, did I make it? Make any kind of a record?" asked Tom eagerly, as he brought the trim little craft to a stop, after it had rolled along the ground on the bicycle wheels.  
"What do you think you did?" asked Mr. Jackson, who had been busy figuring on a slip of paper.
 
"Did I get her up to ninety miles an hour?" inquired Tom eagerly. "If I did, I know when the motor wears down a bit smoother that I can make her 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 our watches, Tom, your father and I figure that you did the course at the rate of one hundred and twelve miles an hour!"
 
"One hundred and twelve!" gasped¹ the young inventor, hardly able to believe it.
 
"I made it a hundred and fifteen," said Mr. Swift, who was almost as pleased as was his son, "and Mr. Jackson made it one hundred and eleven; so we split the difference, so to speak. You certainly have a sky racer, Tom, my boy!"
 
"And I'll need it, too, dad, if I'm to compete with Andy Foger, who may have 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 contingency², in case my protest was overruled," remarked Tom. "But I'm glad the Humming-Bird did so well on her first trial. I know she'll do better the more I run her. Now we'll get her back in her 'nest,' and I'll look her over, when she cools down, and see if anything has worked loose."
 
But the trim little craft needed only slight adjustments after her tryout, 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 I bring home that ten thousand dollars I'm going to abandon this sky-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 electric rifle, which I have not perfected yet. I'll work on that after I win the big race."
 
For several days after the first real trial of his sky racer Tom was busy 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 the best, and though neither his father nor Mr. Jackson could see where there was room for improvement, Tom was so exacting³ that he sat up for several nights to perfect such little details as a better grip for the steering-lever, a quicker way of making the automatic equilibriumizer take its position, or an improved transmitter for the wireless⁴ apparatus⁵.
 
That was a part of his monoplane of which Tom was justly proud, for though many aeroplanes to-day are equipped with the sending device, few can receive wireless messages in mid-air. But Tom had seen the advantage of this while making a trip in the ill-fated Red Cloud to the cave of the diamond makers⁶, and he determined⁷ to have his new craft thus provided against emergencies. The wireless outfit⁸ of the Humming-Bird was a marvel⁹ of compactness.
 
Thus the days passed, with Tom very busy; so busy, in fact, that he hardly had time to call on Miss Nestor. As for Andy Foger, he heard no more from him, and the bully¹⁰ was not seen around Shopton. Tom concluded that he was at his uncle's place, working on his racing¹¹ craft.
 
The young inventor sent a formal protest to the aviation committee, to be used in the event of Andy entering a craft which infringed¹² on the Humming-Bird, and received word from Mr. Sharp that the interests of the young inventor would be protected. This satisfied Tom.
 
Still, at times, he could not help wondering how the first plans had so mysteriously disappeared, and he would have given a good deal to know just how Andy got possession of them, and how he knew en............