was a marvel of compactness.

Thus the days passed, with Tom very busy; so busy, in fact, that he
hardly had time to call on Miss Nestor. As for Andy Foger, he heard no
more from him, and the bully was not seen around Shopton. Tom concluded
that he was at his uncle's place, working on his racing craft.

The young inventor sent a formal protest to the aviation committee, to
be used in the event of Andy entering a craft which infringed on the
Humming-Bird, and received word from Mr. Sharp that the interests of the
young inventor would be protected. This satisfied Tom.

Still, at times, he could not help wondering how the first plans had so
mysteriously disappeared, and he would have given a good deal to know
just how Andy got possession of them, and how he knew enough to use
them.

"He, or some one whom he hired, must have gotten into our house mighty
quickly that day," mused Tom, "and then skipped out while dad fell into
a little doze. It was a mighty queer thing, but it's lucky it was no
worse."

The time was approaching for the big aviation meet. Tom's craft was in
readiness, and had been given several other trials, developing more
speed each time. Additional locks were put on the doors of the shed, and
more burglar-alarm wires were strung, so that it was almost a physical
impossibility to get into the Humming-Bird's "nest" without arousing
some one in the Swift household.

"And if they do, I guess we'll be ready for them," said Tom grimly. He