I must forbid you to do any
more. Mit Dom, dot is different. He is young und strong, und he can
vork. But you--not, Herr Swift, or I doctor you no more." And the
physician shook his big head.
"Very well. I'll agree to that if Tom will promise to enter the race,"
said the inventor.
"I will," said Tom.
The physician took his leave shortly after that, the medicine he gave to
Mr. Swift somewhat relieving him. Then the young inventor, who felt in a
little better spirits, went back to his workshop.
"Poor dad," he mused. "He thinks more of me and this aeroplane than he
does of himself. Well, I will go in the race, and I'll--yes, I'll win!"
And Tom looked very determined.
He was about to resume work on his craft when something about the way
one of the forward planes was tilted attracted his attention.
"I never left it that way," mused Tom. "Some one has been in here. I
wonder if it was Mr. Jackson?"
Tom stepped to the door and called for Eradicate. The colored man came
from the direction of the garden, which he was still weeding.
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