dy!" yelled Andy. "Keep away or you'll
get hurt! I'm going up!"

He climbed into the cabin of the craft, and took his position at the
steering-wheel. The speed of the motor, its racket and its stream of
sparks increased.

"Let go!" cried Andy to those who were holding his craft.

They released their hold. The triplane moved slowly across the
ground, gathered speed, and, then, under the impulse of the powerful
propellers, ran rapidly over the meadow.

"Hurrah! There he goes!" cried Sam.

"Yes! Now he's going to fly," proudly added Pete Bailey, the other
crony of the bully.

"He'd better fly soon, then, or he'll be in the ditch," said Tom
grimly, for a little, sluggish stream crossed the meadow not far
from where Andy had started.

The next instant, thinking he had momentum enough, Andy tilted his
elevation plane. The clumsy triplane rose into the air and shot
forward.

"There he goes!" cried Sam.

"Hurrah!" yelled the crowd.

Andy had gone up about ten feet, and was making slow progress.

"I guess Tom Swift isn't the only one in Shopton who can build an
airship!" sneered Pete Bailey.

"Look! Look!" yelled Ned. "He's coming down!"

Sure enough, Andy's machine had reached the end of her flight. The
motor stopped with something between a cough and a wheeze. Down
fluttered the aeroplane, like some clumsy bird, down into the ditch,
settling on one side, and then coming to rest, tilted over at a
sharp angle. Andy was pitched out, but landed on the soft mud, for
there had been a thaw. He wasn't hurt much, evidently, for he soon
scrambled to his feet as the crowd surged toward him.

"Well, he flew a little way," observed Ned, grimly.

"But he came down mighty soon," added Tom. "I thought he would. His
machine is too big and clumsy. I've seen enough. Come on, Ned. We'll
get ready to go to Alaska. Andy Foger will never follow us in that
machine."

But Tom was soon to find out how much mistaken he was.

CHAPTER VII

READY FOR THE TRIP

Andy Foger stood looking at his tilted airship. His clothes were
covered with mud from the ditch, some of the muck had splashed over
his face so that he was a pitiable looking object.

"What's the matter?" panted Pete Bailey.

"Are you hurt?" asked Sam Snedecker.

The two cronies had hurried to the side of the bully.

"Matter? Can't you see what's the matter?" demanded Andy wrathfully.
"The machine came down, that's what's the matter! Why didn't you
fellows fi