rfection since I put in some of that new platinum we got from the
lost mine in Siberia."

"Yes, that was a trip that amounted to something. I wouldn't mind
going on another like that, though we ran lots of risks."

"We sure did," agreed Tom, and then, raising his voice he called
out: "Rad, I say Rad! Where are you? I want you!"

"Comin', massa Tom, comin'," answered an aged colored man, as he
shuffled around the corner of the shed. "What do yo'-all want ob
me?"

"Put some gasolene in the Lark, Rad. Ned and I are going to take a
little flight. What were you doing?"

"Jest groomin' mah mule Boomerang, Massa Tom, dat's all. Po'
Boomerang he's gittin' old jest same laik I be. He's gittin' old,
an' he needs lots ob 'tention. He has t' hab mo' oats dan usual,
Massa Tom, an' he doan't feel 'em laik he uster, dat's a fac', Massa
Tom."

"Well, Rad, give him all he wants. Boomerang was a good mule in his
day."

"An' he's good yet, Massa Tom, he's good yet!" said Eradicate
Sampson eagerly. "Doan't yo' all forgit dat, Massa Tom." And the
colored man proceeded to fill the gasolene tank, while Tom adjusted
the electrical mechanism of his aeroplane, Ned assisting by handing
him the tools needed. Eradicate, who said he was named that because
he "eradicated" dirt, was a colored man of all work, who had been in
the service of the Swift household for several years. He and his
mule Boomerang were fixtures.

"There, I guess that will do," remarked Tom, after testing the
magneto, and finding that it gave a fat, hot spark. "That ought to
send us along in good shape. Got all the gas in, Rad?"

"Every drop, Massa Tom."

"Then catch hold and help wheel the Lark out. Ned, you steady her on
that side. How are the tires? Do they need pumping up?"

"Hard as rocks," answered Tom's chum, as he tapped his toe against
the rubber circlets of the small bicycle wheels on which the
aeroplane rested.

"Then they'll do, I guess. Come on now, and we'll give her a test
before we start off. I ought to get a few hundred more revolutions
per minute out of the motor with the way I've adjusted the magneto.
Rad, you and Ned hold back, while I turn the engine over."

The youth and the colored man grasped the rear supports of the long,
tail-like part of the monoplane while Tom stepped to the front to
twist the propeller blades. The first two times there was no
explosion as he swung the delicate wooden blades about, but the
third time the engine start