w 'em what speed is!"

He was soon at the physician's house, and found him in.

"Won't you ride back with me in the monoplane?" asked Tom. "I'm anxious
to have you see dad as soon as you can.

"Vot! Me drust mineself in one ob dem airships? I dinks not!" exclaimed
Dr. Kurtz ponderously. "Vy, I vould not efen ride in an outer-mobile,
yet, so vy should I go in von contrivance vot is efen more dangerous?
No, I gomes to your fader in der carriage, mit mine old Dobbin horse.
Dot vill not drop me to der ground, or run me up a tree, yet! Vot?"

"Very well," said Tom, "only hurry, please."

The young inventor, in his airship, reached home some time before the
slow-going doctor got there in his carriage. Mr. Swift was no worse,
Tom was glad to find, though he was evidently quite ill.

"So, ve must take goot care of him," said the doctor, when he had
examined the patient. "Dr. Gladby he has done much for him, und I can
do little more. You must dake care of yourself, Herr Swift, or you
vill--but den, vot is der use of being gloomy-minded? I am sure you
vill go more easy, und not vork so much."

"I haven't worked much," replied the aged inventor. "I have only been
helping my son on a new airship."

"Den dot must stop," insisted the doctor. "You must haf gomplete
rest--dot's it--gomplete rest."

"We'll do just as you say, doctor," said Tom. "We'll give up the
aeroplane matters, dad, and go away, you and I, where we can t see a
blueprint or a pattern, or hear the sound of machinery. We'll cut it
all out."

"Dot vould he goot," said Dr. Kurtz ponderously.

"No, I couldn't think of it," answered Mr. Swift. "I want you to go in
that race, Tom--and win!"

"But I'll not do it, dad, if you're going to be ill."

"He is ill now," interrupted the doctor. "Very ill, Dom Swift."

"That settles it. I don't go in the race. You and I'll go away, dad--to
California, or up in Canada. We'll travel for your health."

"No! no!" insisted the old inventor gently. "I will be all right. Most
of the work on the monoplane is done now, isn't it, Tom?"

"Yes, dad."

"Then you go on, and finish it. You and Mr. Jackson can do it without
me now. I'll take a rest, doctor, but I want my son to enter that race,
and, what's more, I want him to win!"

"Vell, if you don't vork, dot is all I ask. I must forbid you to do any
more. Mit Dom, dot is different. He is young und strong, und he can
vork. But you--not, Herr Swift, or I doctor you no more."