"Did I get her up to ninety miles an hour?" inquired Tom eagerly. "If I
did, I know when the motor wears down a bit smoother that I can make her
hit a hundred in the race, easily. Did I touch ninety, Mr. Jackson?"

"Better than that, Tom! Better than that!" cried his father.

"Yes," joined in Mr. Jackson. "Allowing for the difference in our
watches, Tom, your father and I figure that you did the course at the
rate of one hundred and twelve miles an hour!"

"One hundred and twelve!" gasped the young inventor, hardly able to
believe it.

"I made it a hundred and fifteen," said Mr. Swift, who was almost as
pleased as was his son, "and Mr. Jackson made it one hundred and eleven;
so we split the difference, so to speak. You certainly have a sky racer,
Tom, my boy!"

"And I'll need it, too, dad, if I'm to compete with Andy Foger, who may
have a machine almost like mine."

"But I thought you were going to object to him if he has," said Mr.
Damon, who had hardly recovered from the speedy flight through space.

"Well, I was just providing for a contingency, in case my protest was
overruled," remarked Tom. "But I'm glad the Humming-Bird did so well on
her first trial. I know she'll do better the more I run her. Now we'll
get her back in her 'nest,' and I'll look her over, when she cools down,
and see if anything has worked loose."