Baggert helping her.

Eradicate Sampson shuffled out from the stable where he kept his mule
Boomerang. On the face of the honest colored man there was a dejected
look.

"Am Massa Swift any better, Massa Tom?" he asked.

"We can't tell yet," was the answer.

"Well, if he doan't git well, den I'm goin' t' sell mah mule," went on
the dirt-chaser, from which line of activity Eradicate had derived his
name.

"Sell Boomerang! Bless my curry comb! what for?" asked Mr. Damon.

"'Case as how he wouldn't neber be any good fo' wuk any mo'," explained
Eradicate. "He's got so attached t' dis place, an' all de folkes on it,
dat he'd feel so sorry ef--ef--well, ef any ob 'em went away, dat I
couldn't git no mo' wuk out ob him, no how. So ef Massa Swift doan't
git well, den I an' Boomerang parts!"

"Well, we hope it won't happen," said Tom, greatly touched by the
simple grief of Eradicate. The young inventor was silent a moment, and
then he softly added: "I--I wonder when--when we'll know?"

"Soon now, I think," answered Mr. Damon, in a low voice.

Silently they waited about the aeroplane. Tom tried to busy himself,
but he could not. He kept his eyes fastened on the house.

It seemed like several hours, but it was not more than one, ere the
white-capped nurse came to the door and waved her hand to Tom. He
sprang to his feet and rushed forward. What would be the message he was
to receive?

He stood before the nurse, his heart madly beating. She looked gently
at him.

"Will he--will he live?" Tom asked, pantingly.

"I think so," she answered gently. "The operation is over. It was a
success, so far. Time alone will tell, now. Dr. Hendrix says you can
see your father for just a moment."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Off to the Meet

Softly Tom tiptoed into the room where his father lay. At the bedside
were the three doctors, and the nurse followed the young inventor in.
Mrs. Baggert stood in the hall, and near her was Garret Jackson. The
aged housekeeper had been weeping, but she smiled at Tom through her
tears.

"I think he's going to get well," she whispered. She always looked on
the bright side of things. Tom's heart felt better.

"You must only speak a few words to him," cautioned the specialist, who
had performed such a rare and delicate operation, near the heart of the
invalid. "He is very weak, Tom."

Mr. Swift opened his eyes as his son approached. He looked around
feebly.

"Tom--are you there?" he asked