Tom Swift and His Air Scout | Page 5

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 makes so
much noise, you know. We can do a little talking through this speaking
tube," 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 the
igniting 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.
CHAPTER II
A NEW IDEA
Any one who has taken a flight in an aeroplane or