"That's my name," answered Tom, pleasantly.

"I'm Peton Gale, and this gentleman is Boland Ware," went on
the man who had taken Tom's hand. "I'm president and he's
treasurer of the Universal Flying Machine Company, of New York."

"Oh, yes," said Tom, as he shook hands with Mr. Ware. "I have
heard of your concern. You are doing a lot of government work,
are you not?"

"Yes; war orders. And we're up to our neck in them. This war is
going to be almost as much fought in the air as on the ground,
Mr. Swift."

"I can well believe that," agreed Tom. "Won't you have a
chair?"

"Well, we didn't come to stay long," said Mr. Gale with a
laugh, which, somehow or other, grated on Tom and seemed to him
insincere. "Our business is such a rushing one that we don't
spend much time anywhere. To get down to brass tacks, we have
come to see you to put a certain proposition before you, Mr.
Swift. You are open to a business proposition, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes," answered Tom. "That's what I'm here for."

"I thought so. Well, now I'll tell you, in brief, what we want,
and then Mr. Ware, our treasurer, can elaborate on it, and give
you facts and figures about which I never bother myself. I attend