Softly Tom tiptoed into the room where his father lay. At the bedside were the three doctors, and the nurse followed the young inventor in. Mrs. Baggert stood in the hall, and near her was Garret Jackson. The aged¹ housekeeper² had been weeping, but she smiled at Tom through her tears.  
"I think he's going to get well," she whispered. She always looked on the bright side of things. Tom's heart felt better.
 
"You must only speak a few words to him," cautioned the specialist, who had performed such a rare and delicate operation, near the heart of the invalid³. "He is very weak, Tom."
 
Mr. Swift opened his eyes as his son approached. He looked around feebly.
 
"Tom—are you there?" he asked in a whisper.
 
"Yes, dad," was the eager answer.
 
"They tell me you—you made a great trip to get Dr. Hendrix—broken bridge—came through the air with him. Is that right?"
 
"Yes, dad. But don't tire yourself. You must get well and strong."
 
"I will, Tom. But tell me; did you go in—in the Humming-Bird?"
 
"Yes, dad."
 
"How did she work?"
 
"Fine. Over a hundred, and the motor wasn't at its best."
 
"That's good. Then you can go in the big race, and win."
 
"No, I don't believe I'll go, dad."
 
"Why not?" Mr. Swift spoke⁴ more strongly.
 
"I—because—well, I don't want to."
 
"Nonsense, Tom! I know; it's on my account. I know it is. But listen to me. I want you to go in! I want you to win that race! Never mind about me. I'm going to get well, and I'll recover all the more quickly if you win that race. Now promise me you'll go in it and—and—win!"
 
The invalid's strength was fast leaving him.
 
"I—I—-," began Tom.
 
"Promise!" insisted the aged inventor, trying to rise. Dr. Hendrix made a hasty move toward the bed.
 
"Promise!" whispered the surgeon to Tom.
 
"I—I promise!" exclaimed Tom, and the aged inventor sank back with a smile of satisfaction on his pale face.
 
"Now you must go," said Dr. Gladby to Tom. "He has talked long enough. He must sleep now, and get up his strength."
 
"Will he get better?" asked Tom, anxiously.
 
"We can't say for sure," was the answer. "We have great hopes."
 
"I don't want to enter the race unless I know he is going to live," went on Tom, as Dr. Gladby followed him out of the room.
 
"No one can say for a certainty that he will recover," spoke the physician. "You will have to hope for the best, that is all, Tom. If I were you I'd go in the race. It will occupy your mind, and if you could send good news to your father it might help him in the fight for life he is making."
 
"But suppose—suppose something happens while I am away?" suggested the young inventor.
 
The doctor thought for a moment. Then he exclaimed:
 
"You have a wireless⁵ outfit⁶ on your craft; haven't you?"
 
"Yes."
 
"Then you can receive messages from here every hour if you wish. Garret Jackson, your engineer, can send them, and you can pick them up in mid-air if need be."
 
"So I can!" cried Tom. "I will go to the meet. I'll take the Humming-Bird apart at once, and ship it to Eagle Park. Unless Dr. Hendrix wants to go back in it," he added as an after thought.
 
"No," spoke Dr. Gladby, "Dr. Hendrix is going to remain here for a few days, in case of an emergency. By that time the bridge will have been repaired, and he can go back by train. I gather, from what he said, that though he liked the air trip, he will not care for another one."
 
"Very well," assented⁷ Tom, and Mr. Damon and he were kept busy, packing the Humming-Bird for shipment. Mr. Jackson helped them, and Eradicate⁸ and his mule⁹ Boomerang were called on occasionally when boxes or crates¹⁰ were to be taken to the railroad station.
 
In the meanwhile, Mr. Swift, if he did not improve any, at least held his own. This the doctors said was a sign of hope, and, though Tom was filled with anxiety, he tried to think that fate would be kind to him, and that his father would recover. Dr. Hendrix left, saying there was nothing more he could do, and that the rest depended on the local ............