They were nearing Shopton now, as the lad and Mr. Damon could tell by
the familiar landmarks which loomed up in sight. Tom strained his eyes
for the first view of his home.
Suddenly, as they were skimming along, there came a cessation of the hum
and roar that told of the perfectly-working motor. It was an ominous
silence.
"What's--what's wrong?" gasped Mr. Damon.
"Something's given way," answered Tom quickly. "I'm afraid the magneto
isn't sparking as it ought to."
"Well, can't we volplane hack to earth?" asked the odd man, for he had
become familiar with this feat when anything happened to the motor.
"We could," answered Tom, "but I'm not going to."
"Why not?"
"Because we're too far from Shopton--and dad! I'm going to keep on. I've
got to--if I want to be there in time!"
"But if the motor doesn't work?"
"I'll make her work!"
Tom was desperately manipulating the various levers and handles
connected with the electrical ignition system. He tried in vain to get
the magneto to resume the giving out of sparks, and, failing in that, he
switched on the batteries.
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