It
was the tiny Demoiselle--the smallest craft in the race, and its
peculiar style of starting was always thus manifested.
"I don't believe he's going to make it," thought Tom.
He was right. In another moment the tiny craft, after rising a short
distance, dove downward, and was wrecked. The young inventor saw the two
men crawling out from the tangled planes and wings, apparently
uninjured.
"One contestant less," thought Tom, grimly, though with pity in his
heart for the unfortunates.
However, he must think of himself and his own craft now. He glanced at
Mr. Damon sitting beside him. That odd gentleman, with never a thought
of blessing anything now, unless he did it silently, was watching the
lubricating system. This was a vital part of the craft, for if anything
went wrong with it, and the bearings overheated, the race would have to
be abandoned. So Tom was not trusting to any automatic arrangement, but
had instituted, almost at the last moment, a duplicate hand-worked
system, so that if one failed him he would have the other.
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