ted the big propeller and the motor's shining
cylinders as though the machine was a thing alive, like a horse or a
dog, who could understand him.

He climbed to his seat, the other one holding a bag of sand to maintain
a good balance.

"Start her," ordered Tom, and Mr. Jackson twisted the propeller. The
motor caught at once, and the air throbbed with the noise of the
explosions. Tom listened to the tune of the machinery. It sang true.

"Two thousand pounds thrust!" called the engineer, as he looked at the
scale.

"Let her go!" cried Tom, whose voice was hardly heard above the roar.
The trim little aeroplane scudded over the ground, gathering speed at
every revolution of the wheels. Then with a spring like that of some
great bird launching itself in flight, she left the earth, and took to
the air. Tom was off on his trip.

Those left behind sent up a cautious cheer, for they did not want to
disturb Mr. Swift. They waved their hands to the young inventor, and he
waved his in reply. Then he settled down for one of the swiftest
flights he had ever undertaken.

Tom ascended until he struck a favorable current of air. There was a
little wind blowing in the direction he wished to take, and that aided
him. But even against a powerful head-wind the Humming-Bird could make
progress.

The young inventor saw the ground slipping backward beneath him.
Carefully he watched the various indicators, and listened intently to
the sound of the cylinders' explosions. They came rapidly and
regularly. The motor was working well.

Tom glanced at the barograph. It registered two thousand feet, and he
decided to keep at about that height, as it gave him a good view, and
he could see to steer, for a route had been hastily mapped out for him
by his friends.

Over cities, towns, villages, scattered farmhouses; across stretches of
forest; over rivers, above big stretches of open country he flew. Often
he could see eager crowds below, gazing up at him. But he paid no heed.
He was looking for a sight of a certain broad river, which was near
Kirkville. Then he knew he would be close to his goal.

He had speeded up the motor to the limit, and there was nothing to do
now, save to manage the planes, wing tips and rudders, and to see that
the gasoline and oil were properly fed to the machine.

Faster and faster went the Humming-Bird, but Tom's thoughts were even
faster. He was thinking of many things--of his father--of what he would
do if Mr