nd ask questions. Then I'd have to explain, and I don't want to, not
until I get further toward the bottom of this thing."

He put the charm away, and then summoned his father and the balloonist.

"You're going to see a fine experiment," declared Tom. "I'm going to
turn on the full strength of my battery."

"Are you sure it's all right, Tom?" asked his father. "You can't be too
careful when you're dealing with electricity of high voltage, and great
ampere strength.

"Oh, it's all right, Dad," his son assured him "Now watch my motor hum."

He walked over to a big copper switch, and grasped the black rubber
handle to pull it over which would send the current from the storage
battery into the combination of wheels and gears that he hoped,
ultimately, would propel his electric automobile along the highways, or
on a track, at the rate of a hundred miles an hour.

"Here she goes!" cried Tom. For an instant he hesitated and then pulled
the switch. At the same time his hand rested on another wire, stretched
across a bench.

No sooner had the switch closed than there was a blinding flash, a
report as of a gun being fired, and Tom's body seemed to straighten
out. Then a blue flame appeared to encircle him and he dropped to the
floor of the shop, an inert mass.

"He's killed!" cried Mr. Swift, springing forward.

"Careful!" cautioned the balloonist. "He's been shocked! Don't touch
him until I turn off the current!" As he pulled out the switch, the
aeronaut gave a glance at the apparatus.

"There's something wrong here!" he cried. "The wires have been crossed!
That's what shocked Tom, but he never made the wrong connections! He's
too good an electrician! There's been some one in this shop, changing
the wires!"

CHAPTER XII

THE TRY OUT

Once the current was cut off it was safe to approach the body of the
young inventor. Mr Sharp stooped over and lifted Tom's form from the
floor, for Mr. Swift was too excited and trembled too much to be of any
service. Our hero was as one dead. His body was limp, after that first
rigid stretching out, as the current ran through him; his eyes were
closed, and his face was very pale.

"Is--is there any hope?" faltered Mr. Swift.

"I think so," replied the balloonist. "He is still breathing--faintly.
We must summon a doctor at once. Will you telephone for one, while I
carry him in the house?"

As Mr. Sharp emerged from the shop, bearing Tom's body, an automobile
drew up in