"We must save my new aeroplane!" thought Tom, desperately. "I've got to
save her!"

As he raced through the hall he caught up a portable chemical
fire-extinguisher. Tom saw his father's door open, and Mr. Swift looked
out.

"What is it?" he called anxiously.

"Fire!" answered the young inventor, almost before he thought of the
doctor's warning that Mr. Swift must not be excited. Tom wished he could
recall the word, but it was too late. Besides Eradicate, down in the
yard was shouting at the top of his voice:

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

"Where, Tom?" gasped Mr. Swift, and his son thought the aged inventor
grew suddenly paler.

"Aeroplane shed," answered the lad. "But don't worry dad. It's only a
small blaze. We'll get it out. You stay here. We'll attend to it--Mr.
Jackson and Eradicate and I."

"No--I'm going to help!" exclaimed Mr. Swift, sturdily. "I'll be with
you, Tom. Go on!"

The lad rushed down to the yard, closely followed by the engineer, who
had caught up another extinguisher. Eradicate was rushing about, not
knowing what to do, but still keeping up his shouting.