Tom Swift and His Sky Racer Part 25

In the meanwhile, Mr. Swift, if he did not improve any, at least held his own. This the doctors said was a sign of hope, and, though Tom was filled with anxiety, he tried to think that fate would be kind to him, and that his father would recover. Dr. Hendrix left, saying there was nothing more he could do, and that the rest depended on the local physicians, and on the nurse.

"Und ve vill do our duty!" ponderously exclaimed Dr. Kurtz. "You go off to dot bird race, Dom, und doan't vorry. Ve vill send der with-out-vire messages to you venever dere is anyt'ing to report. Go mit a light heart!"

How Tom wished he could, but it was out of the question. The last of the parts of the Humming-Bird had been sent away, and our hero forwarded a telegram to Mr. Sharp, of the arrangement committee, stating that he and Mr. Damon would soon follow. Then, having bidden his father a fond farewell, and after arranging with Mr. Jackson to send frequent wireless messages, Tom and the eccentric man left for the meet.

There was a wireless station at Eagle Park, and Tom had planned to receive the messages from home there until he could set up his own plant. He would have two outfits. One in the big tent where the Humming-Bird was to be put together, and another on the machine itself, so that when in the air, practicing, or even in the great race itself, there would be no break in the news that was to be flashed through s.p.a.ce.

Tom and Mr. Damon arrived at Eagle Park on time, and Tom's first inquiry was for a message from home. There was one, stating that Mr.

Swift was fairly comfortable, and seemed to be doing well. With happiness in his heart, the young inventor then set about getting the parts of his craft from the station to the park, where he and Mr.

Damon, with a trusty machinist whom Mr. Sharp had recommended, would a.s.semble it. Tom arranged that in his absence the wireless operator on the grounds would take any message that came for him.

The Humming-Bird, in the big cases and boxes, had safely arrived, and these were soon in the tent which had been a.s.signed to Tom. It was still several days until the opening of the meet, and the grounds presented a scene of confusion.

Workmen were putting up grand stands, tents and sheds were being erected, exhibitors were getting their machines in shape, and excited contestants of many nationalities were hurrying to and fro, inquiring about parts delayed in shipment, or worrying lest some of their pet ideas be stolen.

Tom and Mr. Damon, with Frank Forker, the young machinist, were soon busy in their big tent, which was a combined workshop and living quarters, for Tom had determined to stay right on the ground until the big race was over.

"I don't see anything of Andy Foger," remarked Mr. Damon, on the second day of their residence in the park. "There are lots of new entries arriving, but he doesn't seem to be on hand."

"There's time enough," replied Tom. "I am afraid he's hanging back until the last minute, and will spring his machine so late that I won't have time to lodge a protest. It would be just like him."

"Well, I'll be on the lookout for him. Have you heard from home to-day, Tom?"

"No. I'm expecting a message any minute." The young inventor glanced toward the wireless apparatus which had been set up in the tent. At that moment there came the peculiar sound which indicated a message coming through s.p.a.ce, and down the receiving wires. "There's something now!" exclaimed Tom, as he hurried over and clamped the telephone receiver to his ear. He listened a moment.

"Good news!" he exclaimed. "Dad sat up a little to-day! I guess he's going to get well!" and he clicked back congratulations to his father and the others in Shopton.

Another day saw the Humming-Bird almost in shape again, and Tom was preparing for a tryout of the engine.

Mr. Damon had gone over to the committee headquarters to consult with Mr. Sharp about the steps necessary for Tom to take in case Andy did attempt to enter a craft that infringed on the ideas of the young inventor, and on his way back he saw a newly-erected tent. There was a young man standing in the entrance, at the sight of whom the eccentric man murmured:

"Bless my skate-strap! His face looks very familiar!"

The youth disappeared inside the tent suddenly, and, as Mr. Damon came opposite the canvas shelter, he started in surprise.

For, on a strip of muslin which was across the tent, painted in gay colors, were the words:

THE FOGER AEROPLANE

"Bless my elevation rudder!" cried Mr. Damon. "Andy's here at last! I must tell Tom!"

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Great Race

"Well," remarked Mr. Sharp, when Tom and Mr. Damon had called on him, to state that Andy Foger's machine was now on the grounds, and demanding to be allowed to view it, to see if it was an infringement on the one entered by the young inventor, "I'll do the best I can for you.

I'll lay the case before the committee. It will meet at once, and I'll let you know what they say."

"Understand," said Tom, "I don't want to interfere unless I am convinced that Andy is trying an underhand trick. My plans are missing, and I think he took them. If his machine is made after those plans, it is, obviously, a steal, and I want him ruled out of the meet."

"And so he shall be!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp. "Get the evidence against him, and we'll act quickly enough."

The committee met in about an hour, and considered the case. Meanwhile, Tom and Mr. Damon strolled past the tent with its flaring sign. There was a man on guard, but Andy was not in sight.

Then Tom was sent for, and Mr. Sharp told him what conclusion had been arrived at. It was this:

"Under the rules of the meet," said the balloonist, "we had to guarantee privacy to all the contestants until such time as they choose to exhibit their machines. That is, they need not bring them out until just before the races," he added. "This is not a handicap affair, and the speediest machine, or the one that goes to the greatest height, according to which cla.s.s it enters, will win. In consequence we cannot force any contestant to declare what kind of a machine he will use until he gets ready.

"Some are going to use the familiar type of biplanes and, as you can see, there is no secret about them. They are trying them out now." This was so, for several machines of this type were either in the air, circling about, or were being run over the ground.

"But others," continued Mr. Sharp, "will not even take the committee into their confidence until just before the race. They want to keep their craft a secret. We can't compel them to do otherwise. I'm sorry, Tom, but the only thing I see for you to do is to wait until the last minute. Then, if you find Andy has infringed on your machine, lodge a protest--that is unless you can get evidence against him before that time."

Tom well knew the uselessness of the latter plan. He and Mr. Damon had tried several times to get a glimpse of the craft Andy had made, but without success. As to the other alternative--that of waiting until the last moment--Tom feared that, too, would be futile.

"For," he reasoned, "just before the race there will be a lot of confusion, officials will be here and there, scattered over the ground, they will be hard to find, and it will be almost useless to protest then. Andy will enter the race, and there is a possibility that he may win. Almost any one could with a machine like the Humming-Bird. It's the machine almost as much as the operator, in a case like this."

"But you can protest after the race," suggested Mr. Damon.

"That would be little good, in case Andy beat me. The public would say I was a sorehead, and jealous. No, I've either got to stop Andy before the race, or not at all. I will try to think of a plan."

Tom did think of several, but abandoned them one after the other. He tried to get a glimpse inside the tent where the Foger aeroplane was housed, but it was too closely guarded. Andy himself was not much in evidence, and Tom only had fleeting glimpses of the bully.

Meanwhile he and Mr. Damon, together with their machinist, were kept busy. As Tom's craft was fully protected by patents now, he had no hesitation in taking it out, and it was given several severe tests around the aerial course. It did even better than Tom expected of it, and he had great hopes.

Always, though, there were two things that worried him. One was his father's illness, and the other the uneasiness he felt as to what Andy Foger might do. As to the former, the wireless reports indicated that Mr. Swift was doing as well as could be expected, but his improvement was not rapid. Regarding the latter worry, Tom saw no way of getting rid of it.

"I've just got to wait, that's all," he thought.

The day before the opening of the meet, Tom and Mr. Damon had given the Humming-Bird a grueling tryout. They had taken her high up--so high that no prying eyes could time them, and there Tom had opened the motor for all the power in it. They had flashed through s.p.a.ce at the rate of one hundred and twenty miles an hour.

"If we can only do that in the race, the ten thousand dollars is mine!"

exulted Tom, as he slanted the nose of the aeroplane toward the earth.

The day of the race dawned clear and beautiful. Tom was up early, for there remained many little things to do to get his craft in final trim for the contest. Then, too, he wanted to be ready to act promptly as soon as Andy's machine was wheeled out, and he also wanted to get a message from home.

The wireless arrived soon after breakfast, and did not contain very cheering news.

"Your father not so well," Mr. Jackson sent. "Poor night, but doctor thinks day will show improvement. Don't worry."

"Don't worry! I wonder who could help it," mused poor Tom. "Well, I'll hope for the best," and he wired back to tell the engineer in Shopton to keep in touch with him, and to flash the messages to the Humming-Bird in the air, after the big race started.

"Now I'll go out and see if I can catch a glimpse of what that sneak Andy has to pit against me," said Tom.