was glad to find that, at any rate, the craft was not being
made in Shopton, and during the next two weeks he devoted all his time
to finishing his own machine. Mr. Jackson was a valuable assistant, and
Mr. Damon gave what aid he could.

"Well, I think I'll be ready for a trial flight in another week," said
Tom one day, as he stepped back to get a view of the almost completed
Humming-Bird.

"Shall you want a passenger?" asked Mr. Damon.

"Yes, I wish you would take a chance with me. I could use a bag of
sand, not that I mean you are to be compared to that," added Tom
quickly, "but I'd rather have a real person, in order to test the
balancing apparatus. Yes, we'll make a trial trip together."

In the following few days Tom went carefully over the aeroplane, making
some slight changes, strengthening it here and there, and testing the
motor thoroughly. It seemed to work perfectly.

At length the day of the trial came, and the Humming-Bird was wheeled
out of the shed. In spite of the fact that it was practically finished,
there yet remained much to do on it. It was not painted or decorated,
and looked rather crude. But what Tom wanted to know was how it would
fly, what control he had over it, what speed it could make, and how it
balanced. For it was, at best, very frail, and the least change in
equilibrium might be fatal.

Before taking his place in the operator's seat Tom started the motor,
and by means of a spring balance tested the thrust of the propellers.
It was satisfactory, though he knew that when the engine had been run
for some time, and had warmed up, it would do much better.

"All ready, I guess, Mr. Damon!" he called, and the odd gentleman took
his place. Tom got up into his own seat, in front of several wheels and
levers by which he operated the craft.

"Start the propeller!" he requested of Mr. Jackson, and soon the motor
was spitting fire, while the big, fan-like blades were whirring around
like wings of light. The engineer and Eradicate were holding back the
Humming-Bird.

"Let her go!" cried Tom as he turned on more gasoline and further
advanced the spark of the motor. The roar increased, the propeller
looked like a solid circle of wood, and the trim little monoplane moved
slowly across the rising ground, increasing its speed every second,
until, like some graceful bird, it suddenly rose in the air as Tom
tilted the wing tips, and soared splendidly aloft!

Chapter Ten

A Midnight Intru