They had covered about thirty miles of the course, when the humming and
crackling of the wireless apparatus told Tom that a message was coming.
He snapped the receiver to his ear, adjusting the outer covering to shut
out the racket of the motor, and listened.
"Well?" asked Mr. Damon, as Tom took off the receiver.
"Dad isn't quite so well," answered the lad. "Mr. Jackson says they have
sent for Dr. Hendrix again. But dad is game. He sends me word to go on
and win, and I'll do it, too, only--"
Tom paused, and choked back a sob. Then he prepared to get more speed
out of his motor.
"Of course you will!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my--!"
But they encountered an adverse current of wind at that moment, and it
required the attention of both of the aviators to manage the machine. It
was soon on an even keel again, and once more was shooting forward
around the course.
At times Tom would be in advance, and again he would have to give place
to the Curtis, the Farman, or the Santos-Dumont, as these speedy
machines, favored by a spurt from their motors, or by some current of
air, shot ahead.
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