save
your father's life, he'll live to be an old man! Wait until I get my
bag and I'll be with you!"

Tom's heart gave a bound of hope.

Chapter Twenty

Just in Time

While Dr. Hendrix was in his office, getting ready to make the
thrilling trip through the air with Tom, the young inventor spent a few
minutes going over his monoplane. The wonderful little craft had made
her first big flight in excellent time, though Tom knew she could do
better the farther she was flown. Not a stay had started, not a guy
wire was loose. The motor had not overheated, and every bearing was as
cool as though it had not taken part in thousands of revolutions.

"Oh, I can depend on you!" murmured Tom, as he looked to see that the
propeller was tight on the shaft. He gave the bearing a slight
adjustment to make sure of it.

He was at this when the specialist reappeared. Dr. Hendrix, after his
first show of excitement, when he had made his decision to accompany
Tom, had resumed his usual calm demeanor. Once again he was the grave
surgeon, with his mind on the case before him.

"Well, is my auto ready?" he asked absentmindedly. Then, as he saw the
little aeroplane, and Tom standing waiting beside it, he added: "Oh, I
forgot for the moment that I was to make a trip through the air,
instead of in my car. Well, Mr. Swift, are we all ready?"

"All ready," replied the young inventor. "We're going to make fast
time, Dr. Hendrix. You'd better put this on," and Tom extended a face
protector.

"What's it for?" The physician looked curiously at it.

"To keep the air from cutting your cheeks and lips. We are going to
travel a hundred miles an hour this trip."

"A hundred miles an hour!" Dr. Hendrix spoke as though he would like to
back out.

"Maybe more, if I can manage it," went on Tom, calmly, as he proceeded
to remove the bag of sand from the place where the surgeon was to sit.
Then he looked to the various equilibrium arrangements and the control
levers. He was so cool about it, taking it all for granted, as if
rising and flying through the air at a speed rivaling that of the
fastest birds, was a matter of no moment, that Dr. Hendrix was
impressed by the calm demeanor of the young inventor.

"Very well," said the surgeon with a shrug of his shoulders, "I guess
I'm game, Tom Swift."

The doctor took the seat Tom pointed out to him, with his bag of
instruments on his knees. He put on the face protector, and had, at the
sugges