A hurried glance by the gleam of the dying fire
assured Tom that his craft was not damaged beyond a slight scorching of
one of the wing tips.
"That was a narrow escape!" he murmured, as he wheeled the sky racer far
away, out of any danger from sparks. Then he went back to help fight the
fire, which was extinguished in about ten minutes more.
"It was a mighty queer blaze," said Mr. Jackson, "starting at the top
that way. I wonder what caused it?"
"We'll investigate in the morning," decided Tom. "Now, dad, you must get
back to your room." He turned to help his father in, but at that moment
Mr. Swift, who was trying to say something, fell over in a dead faint.
"Quick! Help me carry him into the house!" cried Tom. "Then telephone
for Dr. Gladby, Mr. Jackson."
The physician looked grave when, half an hour later, he examined his
patient.
"Mr. Swift is very much worse," he said in a low voice. "The excitement
of the fire has aggravated his ailment. I would like another doctor to
see him, Tom."
"Another doctor?" Tom's voice showed his alarm.
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