"Oh, don't worry, Dad! We still have a few shots left in the
locker--in other words, the bank. I'm expecting Ned Newton over
any moment now, to give us the annual statement of our account,
and then we'll know where we stand. I'm not afraid from the money
end. Our business has done well, and it is going to do better. I
have a new idea."

"That's all very well, Tom," said Mr. Swift, who seemed
oppressed by something. "As you say, money isn't everything, and
I know we shall always have enough to live on. But there is
something about those two men I do not like. They were very angry
at your refusal of their offer. I could see that. Tom, I don't
want to be a croaker, but I think you'll have to watch out for
those men. They're going to be your enemies--your rivals in the
airship field," and Mr. Swift shook his head dolefully.

"Well, rivalry, when it's clean and above board, is the spice
of trade and invention," returned ~Tom, lightly. "I'm not afraid
of that."

"No, but it may be unfair and underhand," said Mr. Swift. "I
think it would have been better, Tom, to have accepted their
offer. Twenty thousand a year, clear money, is a good sum."

"Yes, but I may make twice that with something that occurred to
me only a little while ago. Forget about those men, Dad, and I'll
tell you my new idea. But wait, I want Mr. Damon to hear it, too.
Where is he?"