Part 1 (2/2)

”I thought you would. Now take your place in the little seat next to where I'm going to sit. I'll start the engine and jump in. Now sit perfectly still, and, whatever you do, don't jump out. The ground's pretty hard this morning. There was a frost last night.”

”I knows dere was, Ma.s.sa Tom. Nope, I won't jump. I--I--Oh, golly, Ma.s.sa Tom! I guess I don't want to go--let me out!”

Eradicate, his heart growing fainter as the time of starting drew nearer, made as if he would leave the monoplane, in which he had taken his seat.

”Sit still!” yelled Tom. At that instant he started the propeller.

The motor roared like a salvo of guns, and streaks of fire could be seen shooting from one cylinder to the other, until there was a perfect blast of explosions.

The speed of the propeller increased as the motor warmed up. Tom ran to his seat and opened the gasoline throttle still more, advancing the spark slightly. The roar increased. The lad darted a look at Eradicate. The colored man's face was like chalk, and he was gripping the upright braces at his side as though his salvation depended on them.

”Steady now” spoke Tom, yelling to be heard above the racket. ”Here we go.”

The b.u.t.terfly was moving slowly across the level stretch of ground which Tom used for starting his airs.h.i.+ps. The propeller was now a blur of light. The explosions of the motor became a steady roar, the noise from one cylinder being merged into the blast from the others so rapidly that it was a continuous racket.

With a whizz the monoplane shot across the ground. Then, with a quick motion, Tom tilted the lifting planes, and, as gracefully as a bird, the little machine mounted upward on a slant until, coming to a level about two hundred feet above the earth, Tom sent it straight ahead over the roof of his house.

”How's this, Rad?” he cried. ”Isn't it great?”

”It--it--er--bur-r-r-r! It's--it's mighty ticklish, Ma.s.sa Tom--dat's de word--it suah am mighty ticklis.h.!.+”

Tom Swift laughed and increased the speed. The b.u.t.terfly darted forward like some hummingbird about to launch itself upon a flower, and, indeed, the revolutions of the propeller were not unlike the vibrations of the wings of that marvelous little creature.

”Now for some corkscrew twists!” cried the young inventor. ”Here we go, Rad!”

With that he began a series of intricate evolutions, making figures of eight, spirals, curves, sudden dips and long swings. It was masterwork in handling a monoplane, but Eradicate Sampson, as he sat crouched in the seat, gripping the uprights until his hands ached, was in no condition to appreciate it. Gradually, however, as he saw that the craft remained up in the air, and showed no signs of falling, the fears of the colored man left him. He sat up straighter.

”Don't you like it, Rad?” cried Tom.

This time the answer came with more decision.

”It suah am great, Ma.s.sa Tom! I'm--I'm beginnin' t' like it. Whoop!

I guess I do like it! Now if some of dem stuck-up c.o.o.ns could see me--”

”They'd think YOU were stuck up; eh, Rad? Stuck up in the air!”

”Dat's right, Ma.s.sa Tom. Ha! Ha! I suah am stuck up in de air! Ha!

Ha!”

By this time Tom had guided the machine away from the village, and they were flying over the fields, some distance from his house. The colored man was beginning to enjoy his experience very much.

Suddenly, just as Tom was trying to get a bit more speed out of the motor, the machine stopped. The cessation of the racket was almost as startling as a loud explosion would have been.

”Just my luck!” cried Tom.

”What's de matter?” asked Eradicate, anxiously.

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