"You can't!" exclaimed the treasurer, Mr. Ware. "Oh, I see. Mr.
Gale, a word with you. Excuse us a moment," he added to Tom and
his father.

The two men consulted in a corner of the library for a moment,
and then, with smiles on their faces, once more turned toward the
young inventor.

"Well, perhaps you are right, Tom Swift," said Mr. Gale. "Of
course, we recognize your talents and ability, but you cannot
blame us for trying to get talent, as well as material for our
airships, in the cheapest market. But we are not hide-bound, nor
sticklers for any set sum. We'll make that offer fifteen thousand
dollars a year, if you will sign a five-year contract and agree
that we shall have first claim on anything and everything you may
patent or invent in that time. Now, how does that strike you?
Fifteen thousand dollars a year--paid weekly if you wish, and our
Mr. Ware, here, has a form of contract which can be fixed up and
signed within ten minutes, if you agree."

"Well, I don't like to be disagreeable," said Tom with a smile;
"but, really, as I said before, I can't accept your very kind
offer. I may say liberal offer. I appreciate that."

"You can't accept!" cried Mr. Gale.

"Are you sure you don't mean 'won't'?" asked Mr. Ware, in a
half growl.

"You may call it that if you like," replied Tom, a bit coolly,