As to the former, the wireless reports indicated that
Mr. Swift was doing as well as could be expected, but his improvement
was not rapid. Regarding the latter worry, Tom saw no way of getting rid
of it.
"I've just got to wait, that's all," he thought.
The day before the opening of the meet, Tom and Mr. Damon had given the
Humming-Bird a grueling tryout. They had taken her high up--so high that
no prying eyes could time them, and there Tom had opened the motor for
all the power in it. They had flashed through space at the rate of one
hundred and twenty miles an hour.
"If we can only do that in the race, the ten thousand dollars is mine!"
exulted Tom, as he slanted the nose of the aeroplane toward the earth.
The day of the race dawned clear and beautiful. Tom was up early, for
there remained many little things to do to get his craft in final trim
for the contest. Then, too, he wanted to be ready to act promptly as
soon as Andy's machine was wheeled out, and he also wanted to get a
message from home.
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