"What is the style of the Foger machine?" yelled some one in the crowd, as the announcer lowered his megaphone.
"It has not been announced," was the reply."It will at once be wheeled out though, in accordance with the conditions of the race."There was a craning of necks, and an uneasy movement in the crowd, for Tom's story was now generally known.
"Get ready to make your protest," advised Mr.Damon to the young inventor."I'll stay by the machine here until you come back.Bless my radiator! I hope you beat him!""I will, if it's possible!" murmured Tom, with a grim tightening of his lips.
There was a movement about Andy's tent, whence, for the last half hour had come spasmodic noises that indicated the trying-out of the motor.The flaps were pulled back and a curious machine was wheeled into view.Tom rushed over toward it, intent on getting the first view.Would it prove to be a copy of his speedy Humming-Bird?
Eagerly he looked, but a curious sight met his eyes.The machine was totally unlike any he had expected to see.It was large, and to his mind rather clumsy, but it looked powerful.Then, as he took in the details, he knew that it was the same one that had flown over his house that night -- it was the one from which the fire bomb had been dropped.
He pushed his way through the crowd.He saw Andy standing near thecurious biplane, which type of air craft it nearest resembled, though it had some monoplane features.On the side was painted the name:
SLUGGER
Andy caught sight of Tom Swift.
"I'm going to beat you!" the bully boasted, and I haven't a machine like yours, after all.You were wrong.""So I see," stammered Tom, hardly knowing what to think."What did you do with my plans then?""I never had them!"
Andy turned away, and began to assist the men he had hired to help him.Like all the others, his machine had two seats, for in this race each operator must carry a passenger.
Tom turned away, both glad and sorry,--glad that his rival was not to race him in a duplicate of the Humming-Bird, but sorry that he had as yet no track of the strangely missing plans.
"I wonder where they can be?" mused the young inventor.
Then came the firing of the preliminary gun.Tom rushed back to where Mr.Damon stood waiting for him.
There was a last lock at the Humming-Bird.She was fit to race any machine on the ground.Mr.Damon took his place.Tom started the propeller.The other contestants were in their seats with their passengers.Their assistants stood ready to shove them off.The explosions of so many motors in action were deafening.
"How much thrust?" cried Tom to his machinist."Twenty-two hundred pounds!""Good!"
The report of the starting-gun could not be heard.But the smoke of it leaped into the air.It was the signal to go.
Tom's voice would not have carried five feet.He waved his hands as a signal.His helper thrust the Humming-Bird forward.Over the smooth ground it rushed.Tom looked eagerly ahead.On a line with him were the other machines, including Andy Foger's Slugger.
Tom pulled a lever.He felt his craft soar upward.The other machines also pointed their noses into the air.
The big race for the ten-thousand-dollar prize was under way!
