m, a look of pleasure coming over his face. "Mr.
Damon is coming!"

"So I should judge," responded Mr. Swift, with a smile. "I wonder why
Eradicate didn't recognize him?"

They learned why a moment later, for on looking from the library
window, Tom saw the colored man coming up the walk behind a
well-dressed gentleman.

"Why, mah goodness! It's Mr. Damon!" exclaimed Eradicate. "I didn't
know yo', sah, wif dem whiskers on! I didn't, fo' a fac'!"

"Bless my razor! I suppose it does make a difference," said the
eccentric man. "Yes, my wife thought I'd look better, and more sedate,
with a beard, so I grew one to please her. But I don't like it. A beard
is too warm this kind of weather; eh, Tom?" And Mr. Damon waved his
hand to the young inventor and his father, who stood in the low windows
of the library. "Entirely too warm, bless my finger-nails, yes!"

"I agree with you!" exclaimed Tom. "Come in! We're glad to see you!"

"I called to see if you aren't going on another trip to the North Pole,
or somewhere in the Arctic regions," went on Mr. Damon.

"Why?" inquired Tom.

"Why, then this heavy beard of mine would come in handy. It would keep
my throat and chin warm." And Mr. Damon ran his hands through his
luxuriant whiskers.

"No more northern trips right away," said Tom. "I'm about to build a
speedy monoplane, to take part in the big meet at Eagle Park."

"Oh, yes, I heard about the meet," said Mr. Damon. "I'd like to be in
that."

"Well, I'm building a machine that will carry two," went on Tom, "and
if you think you can stand a speed of a hundred miles an hour, or
better, I'll let you come with me. There are some races where a
passenger is allowed."

"Have you got a razor?" asked Mr. Damon suddenly.

"What for?" inquired Mr. Swift, wondering what the eccentric man was
going to do.

"Why, bless my shaving soap! I'm going to cut off my beard. If I go in
a monoplane at a hundred miles an hour I don't want to make any more
resistance to the wind than possible, and my whiskers would certainly
hold back Tom's machine. Where's a razor? I'm going to shave at once.
My wife won't mind when I tell her what it's for. Lend me a razor,
please, Tom."

"Oh, there's plenty of time," explained the lad, with a laugh. "The
race doesn't take place for over two months. But when it does, I think
you would be better off without a beard."

"I know it," said Mr. Damon simply. "I'll shave before we enter the
contest, Tom. But