Tom had sailed down from aloft, making a landing in the aviation field he had constructed near his home, and then he had insisted that Mary should keep her promise to take a sky ride with him.
"Don't be too long now!" called Tom to the girl, as she hurried toward the house."Never mind about your hair, or whether your hat's on straight.You're going to wear a cap, anyhow, and tuck your hair up under that.It's hot down here, but it will be cold up above; so tell Mrs.Baggert to see that you're warmly dressed.""All right," and gaily she waved her hand to him.Now that she had made her decision, and was really going up, she was not half so frightened as she had been in the contemplation of it.
As Tom climbed out of the machine, to give it a careful inspection,though he was certain there was nothing wrong, an aged colored man shuffled toward him.
"Yo'--yo'll be mighty careful ob Miss Nestor now, won't yo', Massa Tom?" asked the man.
"Of course I will, Eradicate," was the young inventor's answer.
"Case we ain't got many laik her no mo', an' dat's de truf, Massa Tom," went on the old man."So be mighty careful laik!""That's what I will, Rad! And, while I'm up in the air, don't you and Koku have any trouble.""Ho! Trouble wif dat onery no-'count giant! I guess not!" and the colored man limped off, highly indignant.
Satisfied, from an inspection of his machine, that it was as nearly mechanically perfect as it was possible to be, Tom Swift finished his trip around it and stood near the big propeller, waiting for Mary Nestor to reappear.Presently she did so, and Tom gaily waved his hand to her.
"You're a picture!" he cried, as he saw how particularly "fetching" she looked in the aviator's costume which was like his own.Because of the danger of entanglement, Miss Nestor had doffed her skirts, and wore the costume of all aviators--men and women.
"I wish I had my camera!" cried Tom."You look--stunning!""I hope that isn't any comment on how I'm going to feel if we have to make a--forced landing, I believe you call it," she retorted.
"Oh, I'll take care of that!" exclaimed Tom."Now up you go, and we'll start," and he helped her to climb into the padded seat of the cockpit, behind where he was to sit.
"Oh, Tom! Don't be in such a hurry !" expostulated Mary."Let me get my breath!""No!" laughed the young inventor."If I did you might back out.Get in, fasten the strap around you and sit still.That's all you have to do.Don't be afraid, I'll be very careful.And don't try to yell at me to go slower or lower once we're up in the air.
"Why not?" Mary wanted to know, as she settled herself in her seat."Because I can't very well bear you, or talk to you.The motor makesso much noise, you know.We can do a little talking through this speakingtube," and he indicated one, "but it isn't very satisfactory.So if you have anything to say--""In the language of the poets," interrupted Mary, "if I have words to spill, prepare to spill them now.Well, I haven't! Now I'm here, go ahead! I shall probably be too frightened to talk, anyhow.""Oh, no you won't--after the first little sensation," Tom assured her."You'll be crazy about it.Come on, Jackson!" he called to the mechanician."Start the ball rolling!"Tom was in his place, his goggles and cap well down over his face, and he was adjusting the switch as the mechanic prepared to spin the propellers.
Suddenly a man came running from the Swift house, waving his arms not unlike the blades of an aircraft propeller, he also shouted, but Tom, whose ears were covered with his fur cap, could not hear.However, Jackson did, and stopped whirling the blades, turning about to see what was wanted.
"Why, it's Mr.Damon!" exclaimed Tom, as he caught sight of the excited man."Hello, what's the matter?" the youth asked, pulling aside one flap of his head-covering so he might hear the answer.
"Tom! Wait a minute! Bless my mouse trap!" exclaimed Mr.Damon, "I want to speak to you!" He was panting from his run across the field."I just got to your house--saw your father--he said you were going up with Miss Nestor, but--bless my dog biscuit--""Can't stop now, Mr.Damon!" answered Tom, with a laugh."I have only just succeeded, by hard work, in getting Mary to a point where she has consented to take a sky ride.If I stop now she'll back out and I'll never get her in again.See you when I come back," and Tom pulled the covering over his ear once more.
"But, Tom, bless my shoe laces! This is important!""So's this!" answered Tom, with a grin.He saw, by the motion of Mr.Damon's lips, what the latter had said.
Around swung the propeller blades.The gasoline vapor in the cylinders was being compressed.
"Contact!" called Tom sharply, as he pressed the switch to give theigniting spark at the proper moment.The mechanic had stepped back out of the way, in case there should be a premature starting of the powerful engine, in which event the blades would have cut him to pieces.
"Wait, Tom! Wait! This is very important! Bless my collar button, Tom Swift, but this is--"Bang! Bang! Bang!
With a series of explosions, like those of a machine gun, the motor started, and further talk was out of the question.Tom turned on more gas.The propellers became almost invisible blades of light and shadow, and the aeroplane began moving over the grassy field.The mechanic had sprung out of the way, pulling Mr.Damon with him.
"Come back! Come back! Wait a minute, Tom Swift! Bless my pansy blossoms, I want to tell you something!" cried the little man.
But Tom Swift was away and out of hearing.He had started on his sky ride with Mary Nestor.
