Tom Swift and His Sky Racer or The Quickest Flight on ... - Fourmilab

Chapter 19A Nervy Specialist<strong>The</strong>re was little time to lose. Every moment of delay meant so much less chancef<strong>or</strong> the recovery of Mr. <strong>Swift</strong>. Even now the periods of consciousness werebecoming sh<strong>or</strong>ter <strong>and</strong> farther apart. He seemed to be sinking.<strong>Tom</strong> resolutely refused to think of the possibility of death, as he went in tobid his parent good-by bef<strong>or</strong>e starting off on his trip through the air. Mr. <strong>Swift</strong>barely knew his son, <strong>and</strong>, with tears in his eyes, though he bravely tried to keepthem back, the young invent<strong>or</strong> went out into the yard.<strong>The</strong>re stood the Humming-Bird, with Mr. Jackson, Mr. Damon <strong>and</strong> Eradicatew<strong>or</strong>king over her, to get her in perfect trim f<strong>or</strong> the race bef<strong>or</strong>e her—a racewith death.F<strong>or</strong>tunately there was little to be done to get the speedy craft ready. <strong>Tom</strong>had accomplished most of what was necessary, while waiting f<strong>or</strong> w<strong>or</strong>d from Dr.Hendrix. Now about all that needed to be done was to see that there was plentyof gasoline <strong>and</strong> oil in the reservoirs.“I’ll give you a note to Dr. Hendrix,” said Mr. Gladby, as <strong>Tom</strong> was fasteningon his faceguard. “I—I trust you won’t be disappointed, <strong>Tom</strong>. I hope he willconsent to return with you.”“He’s got to come,” said the young invent<strong>or</strong>, simply, as if that was all therewas to it.“Do you think you can make the trip in time?” asked Mr. Damon. “It is alittle less than a hundred miles in an airline, but you have to go <strong>and</strong> go back.Can the aeroplane do it?”“I’d be ashamed of her if she couldn’t,” said <strong>Tom</strong>, with a grim tightening ofhis lips. “She’s just got to do it; that’s all! But I know she will,” <strong>and</strong> he pattedthe big propeller <strong>and</strong> the mot<strong>or</strong>’s shining cylinders as though the machine wasa thing alive, like a h<strong>or</strong>se <strong>or</strong> a dog, who could underst<strong>and</strong> him.He climbed to his seat, the other one holding a bag of s<strong>and</strong> to maintain agood balance.“Start her,” <strong>or</strong>dered <strong>Tom</strong>, <strong>and</strong> Mr. Jackson twisted the propeller. <strong>The</strong> mot<strong>or</strong>caught at once, <strong>and</strong> the air throbbed with the noise of the explosions. <strong>Tom</strong>listened to the tune of the machinery. It sang true.85