He wanted to get his mind
off the operation that would soon take place, and so he decided to look
over his aeroplane.
Mr. Damon came out when Tom was going over the guy wires and braces, to
see how they had stood the strain.
"Well, Tom, my lad," said the eccentric man, sadly, as he grasped our
hero's hand, "it's too bad. But hope for the best. I'm sure your father
will pull through. We will have to begin taking the Humming-Bird apart
soon; won't we, if we're going to ship it to Eagle Park?" He wanted to
take Tom's mind off his troubles.
"I don't know whether we will or not," was the answer, and Tom tried to
speak unbrokenly, but there was a troublesome lump in his throat, and a
mist of tears in his eyes that prevented him from seeing well. The
Hamming-Bird, to him, looked as if she was in a fog.
"Nonsense! Of course we will!" cried Mr. Damon. "Why, bless my wishbone!
Tom, you don't mean to say you're going to let that little shrimp Andy
Foger walk away with that ten-thousand-dollar prize without giving him a
fight for it; are you?"
This was just what Tom needed, and it seemed good to have Mr.
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