"All right, Master."

"Now, Ned, if you'll stand here," went on Tom, "and note the
extreme point to which the hand on the pressure gauge goes, I'll
be obliged to you. Just jot it down on this pad."

"Here comes someone," remarked the bank clerk, as he saw that
his pencil was sharpened. He pointed to the field back of them.

"It's Mr. Damon," observed Tom. "We'll wait until he arrives.
He'll be interested in this."

"Bless my collar button, Tom! What's going on?" asked the
eccentric man, as he came up. "Has war been declared?"

"Just practicing," replied the young inventor. "Getting ready
to put the armament on my aerial warship."

"Well, as long as I'm behind the guns I'm all right, I
suppose?"

"Perfectly," Tom replied. "Now then, Ned, I think we'll fire."

There was a moment of inspection, to see that nothing had been
forgotten, and then the big gun was discharged. There was a loud
report, not as heavy, though, as Ned had expected, but there was
no puff of smoke, for Tom was using smokeless powder. Only a
little flash of flame was observed.