Tom Swift and His Sky Racer; Or The Quickest Flight on Record Read online

  Produced by Anthony Matonac.

  TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

  or

  The Quickest Flight on Record

  By

  VICTOR APPLETON

  CONTENTS

  I The Prize Offer II Mr. Swift Is Ill III The Plans Disappear IV Anxious Days V Building the Sky Racer VI Andy Foger Will Contest VII Seeking a Clue VIII The Empty Shed IX A Trial Flight X A Midnight Intruder XI Tom Is Hurt XII Miss Nestor Calls XIII A Clash with Andy XIV The Great Test XV A Noise in the Night XVI A Mysterious Fire XVII Mr. Swift Is Worse XVIII The Broken Bridge XIX A Nervy Specialist XX Just in Time XXI "Will He Live?" XXII Off to the Meet XXIII The Great Race XXIV Won by a Length XXV Home Again--Conclusion

  TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER

  Chapter One

  The Prize Offer

  "Is this Tom Swift, the inventor of several airships?"

  The man who had rung the bell glanced at the youth who answered hissummons.

  "Yes, I'm Tom Swift," was the reply. "Did you wish to see me?"

  "I do. I'm Mr. James Gunmore, secretary of the Eagle Park AviationAssociation. I had some correspondence with you about a prize contestwe are going to hold. I believe--"

  "Oh, yes, I remember now," and the young inventor smiled pleasantly ashe opened wider the door of his home. "Won't you come in? My fatherwill be glad to see you. He is as much interested in airships as I am."And Tom led the way to the library, where the secretary of the aviationsociety was soon seated in a big, comfortable leather chair.

  "I thought we could do better, and perhaps come to some decision morequickly, if I came to see you, than if we corresponded," went on Mr.Gunmore. "I hope I haven't disturbed you at any of your inventions,"and the secretary smiled at the youth.

  "No. I'm through for to-day," replied Tom. "I'm glad to see you. Ithought at first it was my chum, Ned Newton. He generally runs over inthe evening."

  "Our society, as I wrote you, Mr. Swift, is planning to hold a verylarge and important aviation meet at Eagle Park, which is a suburb ofWestville, New York State. We expect to have all the prominent'bird-men' there, to compete for prizes, and your name was mentioned. Iwrote to you, as you doubtless recall, asking if you did not care toenter."

  "And I think I wrote you that my big aeroplane-dirigible, the RedCloud, was destroyed in Alaska, during a recent trip we made to thecaves of ice there, after gold," replied Tom.

  "Yes, you did," admitted Mr. Gunmore, "and while our committee was verysorry to hear that, we hoped you might have some other air craft thatyou could enter at our meet. We want to make it as complete aspossible, and we all feel that it would not be so unless we had a Swiftaeroplane there."

  "It's very kind of you to say so," remarked Tom, "but since my bigcraft was destroyed I really have nothing I could enter."

  "Haven't you an aeroplane of any kind? I made this trip especially toget you to enter. Haven't you anything in which you could compete forthe prizes? There are several to be offered, some for distance flights,some for altitude, and the largest, ten thousand dollars, for thespeediest craft. Ten thousand dollars is the grand prize, to be awardedfor the quickest flight on record."

  "I surely would like to try for that," said Tom, "but the only craft Ihave is a small monoplane, the Butterfly, I call it, and while it isvery speedy, there have been such advances made in aeroplaneconstruction since I made mine that I fear I would be distanced if Iraced in her. And I wouldn't like that."

  "No," agreed Mr. Gunmore. "I suppose not. Still, I do wish we couldinduce you to enter. I don't mind telling you that we consider you adrawing-card. Can't we induce you, some way?"

  "I'm afraid not. I haven't any machine which--"

  "Look here!" exclaimed the secretary eagerly. "Why can't you build aspecial aeroplane to enter in the next meet? You'll have plenty oftime, as it doesn't come off for three months yet. We are only makingthe preliminary arrangements. It is now June, and the meet is scheduledfor early in September. Couldn't you build a new and speedy aeroplanein that time?"

  Eagerly Mr. Gunmore waited for the answer. Tom Swift seemed to beconsidering it. There was an increased brightness to his eyes, and onecould tell that he was thinking deeply. The secretary sought to clinchhis argument.

  "I believe, from what I have heard of your work in the past, that youcould build an aeroplane which would win the ten-thousand-dollarprize," he went on. "I would be very glad if you did win it, and, so Ithink, would be the gentlemen associated with me in this enterprise. Itwould be fine to have a New York State youth win the grand prize. Come,Tom Swift, build a special craft, and enter the contest!"

  As he paused for an answer footsteps were heard coming along the hall,and a moment later an aged gentleman opened the door of the library.

  "Oh! Excuse me, Tom," he said, "I didn't know you had company." And hewas about to withdraw.

  "Don't go, father," said Tom. "You will be as much interested in thisas I am. This is Mr. Gunmore, of the Eagle Park Aviation Association.This is my father, Mr. Gunmore."

  "I've heard of you," spoke the secretary as he shook hands with theaged inventor. "You and your son have made, in aeronautics, a name tobe proud of."

  "And he wants us to go still farther, dad," broke in the youth. "Hewants me to build a specially speedy aeroplane, and race for tenthousand dollars."

  "Hum!" mused Mr. Swift. "Well, are you going to do it, Tom? Seems to meyou ought to take a rest. You haven't been back from your gold-huntingtrip to Alaska long enough to more than catch your breath, and now--"

  "Oh, he doesn't have to go in this right away," eagerly explained Mr.Gunmore. "There is plenty of time to make a new craft."

  "Well, Tom can do as he likes about it," said his father. "Do you thinkyou could build anything speedier than your Butterfly, son?"

  "I think so, father. That is, if you'd help me. I have a plan partlythought out, but it will take some time to finish it. Still, I mightget it done in time."

  "I hope you'll try!" exclaimed the secretary. "May I ask whether itwould be a monoplane or a biplane?"

  "A monoplane, I think," answered Tom. "They are much more speedy thanthe double-deckers, and if I'm going to try for the ten thousanddollars I need the fastest machine I can build."

  "We have the promise of one or two very fast monoplanes for the meet,"went on Mr. Gunmore. "Would yours be of a new type?"

  "I think it would," was the reply of the young inventor. "In fact, I amthinking of making a smaller monoplane than any that have yet beenconstructed, and yet one that will carry two persons. The hardest workwill be to make the engine light enough and still have it sufficientlypowerful to make over a hundred miles an hour, if necessary.

  "A hundred miles an hour in a small monoplane! It isn't possible!"cried the secretary.

  "I'll make better time than that," said Tom quietly, and with not atrace of boasting in his tones.

  "Then you'll enter the meet?" asked Mr. Gunmore eagerly.

  "Well, I'll think about it," promised Tom. "I'll let you know in a fewdays. Meanwhile, I'll be thinking out the details for my new craft. Ihave been going to build one ever since I got back, after having seenmy Red Cloud crushed in the ice cave. Now I think I had better beginactive work."

  "I hope you will soon let me know," resumed the secretary. "I'm goingto put you down as a possible contestant for the ten-thousand-dollarprize. That can do no harm, and I hope you win it. I trust--"

  He paused suddenly, and listened. So did Tom Swift and his father, forthey all distinctly heard stealthy footsteps
under the open windows ofthe library.

  "Some one is out there, listening," said Tom in low tones.

  "Perhaps it's Eradicate Sampson," suggested Mr. Swift, referring to theeccentric colored man who was employed by the inventor and his son tohelp around the place. "Very likely it was Eradicate, Tom."

  "I don't think so," was the lad's answer. "He went to the village awhile ago, and said he wouldn't be back until late to-night. He had toget some medicine for his mule, Boomerang, who is sick. No, it wasn'tEradicate; but some one was under that window, trying to hear what wesaid."

  As he spoke in guarded tones, Tom went softly to the casement andlooked out. He could observe nothing, as the night was dark, and thenew moon, which had been shining, was now dimmed by clouds.

  "See anything?" asked Mr. Gunmore as he advanced to Tom's side.

  "No," was the low answer. "I can't hear anything now, either."

  "I'll go speak to Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper," volunteered Mr.Swift. "Perhaps it was she, or she may know something about it."

  He started from the room, and as he went Tom noticed, with something ofa start, that his father appeared older that night than he had everlooked before. There was a trace of pain on the face of the agedinventor, and his step was lagging.

  "I guess dad needs a rest and doctoring up," thought the young inventoras he turned the electric chandelier off by a button on the wall, inorder to darken the room, so that he might peer out to betteradvantage. "I think he's been working too hard on his wireless motor.I must get Dr. Gladby to come over and see dad. But now I want to findout who that was under this window."

  Once more Tom looked out. The moon had emerged from behind a thin bankof clouds, and gave a little light.

  "See anything?" asked Mr. Gunmore cautiously.

  "No," whispered the youth, for it being a warm might, the windows wereopen top and bottom, a screen on the outside keeping out mosquitoes andother insects. "I can't see a thing," went on Tom, "but I'm sure--"

  He paused suddenly. As he spoke there sounded a rustling in theshrubbery a little distance from the window.

  "There's something!" exclaimed Mr. Gunmore.

  "I see!" answered the young inventor.

  Without another word he softly opened the screen, and then, stoopingdown to get under the lower sash (for the windows in the library ranall the way to the floor), Tom dropped out of the casement upon thethick grass.

  As he did so he was aware of a further movement in the bushes. Theywere violently agitated, and a second later a dark object sprang fromthem and sprinted along the path.

  "Here! Who are you? Hold on!" cried the young inventor.

  But the figure never halted. Tom sprang forward, determined to see whoit was, and, if possible, capture him.

  "Hold on!" he cried again. There was no answer.

  Tom was a good runner, and in a few seconds he had gained on thefugitive, who could just be seen in the dim light from the crescentmoon.

  "I've got you!" cried Tom.

  But he was mistaken, for at that instant his foot caught on theoutcropping root of a tree, and the young inventor went flat on hisface.

  "Just my luck!" he cried.

  He was quickly on his feet again, and took after the fugitive. Thelatter glanced back, and, as it happened, Tom had a good look at hisface. He almost came to a stop, so startled was he.

  "Andy Foger!" he exclaimed as he recognized the bully who had alwaysproved himself such an enemy of our hero. "Andy Foger sneaking under mywindows to hear what I had to say about my new aeroplane! I wonder whathis game can be? I'll soon find out!"

  Tom was about to resume the chase, when he lost sight of the figure. Amoment later he heard the puffing of an automobile, as some one crankedit up.

  "It's too late!" exclaimed Tom. "There he goes in his car!" And knowingit would be useless to keep up the chase, the youth turned back towardhis house.