The wireless arrived soon after breakfast, and did not contain very
cheering news.
"Your father not so well," Mr. Jackson sent. "Poor night, but doctor
thinks day will show improvement. Don't worry."
"Don't worry! I wonder who could help it," mused poor Tom. "Well, I'll
hope for the best," and he wired back to tell the engineer in Shopton to
keep in touch with him, and to flash the messages to the Humming-Bird in
the air, after the big race started.
"Now I'll go out and see if I can catch a glimpse of what that sneak
Andy has to pit against me," said Tom.
The Foger tent was tightly closed, and Tom turned back to his own place,
having arranged with a messenger to come and let him know as soon as
Andy's craft was wheeled out.
All about was a scene of great activity. The grand stands were filled,
and a big crowd stood about the field anxiously waiting for the first
sight of the "bird-men" in their wonderful machines. Now and then the
band blared out, and cheers arose as one after another the frail craft
were wheeled to the starting place.
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