"I made it a hundred and fifteen," said Mr. Swift, who was almost as pleased as was his son, "and Mr. Jackson made it one hundred and eleven; so we split the difference, so to speak. You certainly have a sky racer, Tom, my boy!"
"And I'll need it, too, dad, if I'm to compete with Andy Foger, who may have a machine almost like mine."
"But I thought you were going to object to him if he has," said Mr. Damon, who had hardly recovered from the speedy flight through space.
"Well, I was just providing for a contingency, in case my protest was overruled," remarked Tom. "But I'm glad the Humming-Bird did so well on her first trial. I know she'll do better the more I run her. Now we'll get her back in her 'nest,' and I'll look her over, when she cools down, and see if anything has worked loose."
But the trim little craft needed only slight adjustments after her tryout, for Tom had built her to stand up under a terrific strain.
"We'll soon be in shape for the big race," he announced, "and when I bring home that ten thousand dollars I'm going to abandon this sky-scraping business, except for occasional trips."
"What will you do to occupy your mind?" asked Mr. Damon.
"Oh, I'm going to travel," announced Tom.
