Five miles more were reeled off.Then an other five.Another round of that distance and Tom would key his motor up to the highest pitch, and then the Humming-Bird would show what she could do.Eagerly Tom waited for the right signal.
Suddenly the wireless began buzzing again.Quickly the young inventor clamped the receiver to his ear.Mr.Damon saw him turn pale.
"Dr.Gladby says dad has a turn for the worse.There is little hope," translated Tom.
"Will you--are you going to quit?" asked Mr.Damon.Tom shook his head.
"No!" he cried."My father has become unconscious, so Mr.Jackson says, but his last words were to me: 'Tell Tom to win the race!' And I'm going to do it!"Tom suddenly changed his plans.There was to be no waiting for the signal now.He would begin his final spurt, and if possible finish thehundred miles at his utmost speed, win the race and then hasten to his father's side.
With a menacing roar the motor of the Humming-Bird took up the additional power that Tom sent into her.She shot ahead like an eagle darting after his prey.Tom opened up a big gap between his machine and the one nearest him, which, at that moment, was the Antoinette, with the Spaniard driving her.
"Now to win!" cried Tom, grimly.
Surely no race was ever flown as was that one! Tom flashed through the air so quickly that his speed was almost incredible.The gage registered one hundred and thirty miles an hour!
Down below in the grand stands, and on the aviation field, there were yells of approval--of wonder--of fear.But Tom and Mr.Damon could not hear them.They only heard the powerful song of the motor.
Faster and faster flew the Humming-Bird Tom looked down, and saw the signal put up which meant that there were but three miles more to go.He felt that he could do it.He was half a lap ahead of them all now.But he saw Andy Foger's machine pulling away from the bunch.
"He's going to try to catch me!" exulted Tom.
Then something happened.The motor of the Humming-Bird suddenly slackened its speed, it missed explosions, and the trim little craft began to drop behind.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr.Damon.
"Three of the cylinders are out of business!" yelled Tom."We're done for, I guess."On came the other machines, Andy in the lead, then the Santos- Dumont, then the Farman, and lastly the Wright.They saw the plight of the Humming-Bird and determined to beat her.Tom cast a despairing look up at the motor.There was nothing to be done.He could not reach it In mid-air.He could only keep on, crippled as he was, and trust to luck.
Andy passed by his rival with an evil smile on his ugly face.Then the Antoinette flashed by.In turn all the others left Tom in the rear Toms heart was like lead.Mr.Damon gazed blankly forward.They were beaten.It did not seem possible.There was but a single chance.If Tom shut off allpower, coasted for a moment, and then, ere the propeller had ceased revolving, if he could start the motor on the spark, the silent cylinders might pick up, with the others, and begin again.He would try it.They could be no worse off than they were.
"A mile behind!" gasped Tom."It's a long chance, but I'll take it."He shut off the power.The motor was silent.the Humming- Bird began to fall.But ere she had gone down ten feet Tom suddenly switched on the batteries.There was a moment of silence, and then came the welcome roar that told of the rekindled motor.And such a roar as it was! Every cylinder was exploding as though none of them had ever stopped!
"We did it!" yelled Tom.Opening up at full speed, he sent the sky racer on the course to overtake and pass his rivals.
Slowly he crept on them.They looked back and saw him coming.They tried to put on more speed, but it was impossible.Andy Foger was in the lead.He was being slowly overhauled by the Santos-Dumont, with the queer tail- rudders.
"I'll get him!" muttered Tom."I'll pass 'em all!"And he did.With a wonderful burst of speed the little Humming-Bird overtook one after another of her larger rivals, and passed them.Then she crept up on Andy's Slugger.
In an instant more it was done, and, a good length in advance of the Foger craft, Tom shot over the finish line a winner, richer by ten thousand dollars, and, not only that, but he had picked up a mile that had been lost, and had snatched victory from almost certain defeat.
There was a succession of thundering cheers as he shut off the motor, and volplaned to earth, but he paid little attention to them.He brought his craft to a stop just as the wireless on it buzzed again.
He listened with a look of pain on his face.
"My father is dying," he said simply."I must go to him.Mr.Damon, will you fill the tanks with oil and gasoline, while I send off a message?""Oil and gasoline," murmured the odd man, while hundreds pressed up to congratulate Tom Swift "What are you going to do?""I'm going to my father in the Humming-Bird, said Tom."It's the only way I can see him alive," and he began to click off a message to Mr.
Jackson, stating that he had won the race and was going to fly to Shopton, while Mr.Damon and several others replenished the fuel and oil of the aeroplane.
Tom Swift had won one race.Could he win the other?
