“I sure will be glad when the last trip is over,” remarked Mr. Damon, who sat in the car near Tom and Ned.
“Why, are you getting tired of it?” asked the young inventor.
“No. But my wife doesn’t speak to me, and she says she won’t as long as I take these crazy air trips. But I said I’d come on the last trip with you, Tom, and I’m going to stick!”
“Well, I hope you don’t drop out now,” grimly joked Ned, as he looked from an observation window to the earth, several thousand feet below.
“Bless my feather bed, I should hope not!” cried the odd man.
Tom kept note of the distance traveled and the time used, and as several hours passed and the figures grew a pleased smile came over his face.
“It begins to look as if we’d make up all we lost and more too, Ned!” he cried to his chum.
The whistle of the tube communicating from the car to the cockpit sent out a shrill summons.
“Hello! What is it?” called Tom.
“You’d better come up here, Mr. Swift,” answered the voice of Art Wright. “Dolan seems to be knocked out and the motor is behaving very queerly. I’m afraid it’s going to die on us!”