"Well, Tom," remarked his father that afternoon, "if you are going
to the Quaker City, to see Mr. Fenwick to-morrow, you'd, better be
getting ready. Have you wired him that you will come?"

"No, I haven't, dad," was the reply. "I'll get a message ready at
once, and when Eradicate comes back I'll have him take it to the
telegraph office."

"I wouldn't do that, Tom."

"Do what?"

"Trust it to Eradicate. He means all right, but there's no telling
when that mule of his may lie down in the road, and go to sleep.
Then your message won't get off, and Mr. Fenwick may be anxiously
waiting for it. I wouldn't like to offend him, for, though he and I
have not met in some years, yet I would be glad if you could do him
a favor. Why not take the message yourself?"

"Guess I will, dad. I'll run over to Mansburg in my electric car,
and send the message from there. It will go quicker, and, besides, I
want to get some piano wire to strengthen the wings of my
monoplane."

"All right, Tom, and when you telegraph to Mr. Fenwick, give him my
regards, and say that I hope his airship will be a success. So it's
an electric one, eh? I wonder how it works? But you can tell me when
you come back."