said about them the better. You aren't going to have any picnic, and
if you want to back out, Tom Swift, now is the time to say so."

"What! Back out?" cried our hero. "Never! I said I'd go and I'm
going. Ned, pass that brace and bit over, will you. I've got to bore
a hole for these screws."

And so the work went on in the big aeroplane shed, which they had
made their packing headquarters.

The Lark, that small, but strong and speedy aeroplane, had been
safely packed, and most of it had been sent on ahead to New York,
where the travellers were to take the steamer. There remained to be
transported their clothing, weapons and ammunition, and several
bundles and cases of trinkets which would be of more value in
bartering with the natives than money. Tom and Mr. Preston had
selected the things with great care, and at the last moment the
young inventor had packed a box of his own, and said nothing about
it. Included in it were some of his own and his father's inventions,
and had one been given a glance into that same box he would have
wondered at the queer things.

"What in the world are you taking with you, anyhow?" asked Ned, of
his chum, noticing the mysterious box.

"'You'll see, if we ever get to giant land," replied Tom with a
smile.

"How long before we can start?" asked Mr. Damon, late that day, when
most of the hard work had been finished. He was as anxious and as