Damon
bless something again, even if it was only a wishbone.
"No!" exclaimed Tom, in ringing tones. "Andy Foger isn't going to beat
me, and if I find out he is going to race with a machine made after my
stolen plans, I'll make him wish he'd never taken them."
"But if the machine he had flying over here when he dropped that bomb on
the shed roof, and set fire to it, is the one he's going to race with,
it isn't like yours," suggested Mr. Damon, who was glad he had turned
the conversation into a more cheerful channel.
"That's so," agreed the young inventor. "We'll, we'll have to wait and
see." He was busy now, going over every detail of the Humming-Bird. Mr.
Damon helped him, and they discovered the defect in the equilibrium
weights, and remedied it.
"We can't afford to have an accident in the race," said Tom. He glanced
toward the house, and wondered if the operation had begun yet. He could
see the trained nurse hurrying here and there, Mrs. Baggert helping her.
Eradicate Sampson shuffled out from the stable where he kept his mule
Boomerang.
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