"For it's cold in the upper regions," said Tom.
Several servants in the physician's household had gathered to see him
depart in this novel fashion, and the chauffeur of the auto, in which
the specialist usually made his calls, was also there.
"I'll give you a hand," said the chauffeur to the young inventor. "I was
at an aviation meet once, and I know how it's done."
"Good," exclaimed Tom. "Then you can hold the machine, and shove when I
give the word."
Tom started the propeller himself, and quickly jumped into his seat. The
chauffeur held back the Humming-Bird until the young aviator had speeded
up the motor.
"Let go!" cried the youthful inventor, and the man gave the little craft
a shove. Across the rather uneven ground of the doctor's yard it ran,
straight for a big iron barrier.
"Look out! We'll be into the fence!" shouted the surgeon. "We'll be
killed!" He seemed about to leap off.
"Sit still!" cried Tom, and at that instant he tilted the elevation
planes, and the craft shot upward, going over the fence like a circus
horse taking a seven-barred gate.
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