Tom was peering through the slight haze that hung
over the earth, for a sight of Shopton. At length the spires of the
churches came into view.
"There it is," he called, pointing downward. "We'll land in two minutes
more."
"No time to spare," murmured the doctor, who knew the serious nature of
the aged inventor's illness. "How long did it take us?"
"Fifty-one minutes," replied Tom, glancing at a small clock in front of
him. Then he shut off the motor and volplaned to earth, to the no small
astonishment of the surgeon. He made a perfect landing in the yard
before the shed, leaped from his seat, and called:
"Come, Dr. Hendrix!"
The surgeon followed him. Dr. Gladby and Dr. Kurtz came to the door of
the house. On their faces were grave looks. They greeted the celebrated
surgeon eagerly.
"Well?" he asked quickly, and they knew what he meant.
"You are only just in time," said Dr. Gladby, softly, and Tom, following
the doctors into the house, wondered if his trip with the specialist had
been in vain.
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