"She's just got to do it; that's all! But I know
she will," and he patted the big propeller and the motor's shining
cylinders as though the machine was a thing alive, like a horse or a
dog, who could understand him.
He climbed to his seat, the other one holding a bag of sand to maintain
a good balance.
"Start her," ordered Tom, and Mr. Jackson twisted the propeller. The
motor caught at once, and the air throbbed with the noise of the
explosions. Tom listened to the tune of the machinery. It sang true.
"Two thousand pounds thrust!" called the engineer, as he looked at the
scale.
"Let her go!" cried Tom, whose voice was hardly heard above the roar.
The trim little aeroplane scudded over the ground, gathering speed at
every revolution of the wheels. Then with a spring like that of some
great bird launching itself in flight, she left the earth, and took to
the air. Tom was off on his trip.
Those left behind sent up a cautious cheer, for they did not want to
disturb Mr. Swift. They waved their hands to the young inventor, and he
waved his in reply.
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