As the huge machine floated on the water of the lake cove, it seemed very awkward and as though it would be unmanageable. The opinions of sightseers who came to stare were as amusing as they were often silly. It seemed to be the consensus of these opinions that Tom Swift never intended to try to fly the huge boat, but that it was merely a “stock jobbing” scheme. It was told that stock in the Swift Construction Company was being sold at fabulous prices on the strength of this flying boat that was doomed to failure.
“Gee!” ejaculated Ned Newton, hearing this, “I wish it was as easy to sell shares in a bona fide invention as these people seem to think it is in a fake. Money would be easy enough to raise.”
It was true that a fortune—and not a small fortune—had been expended upon the building of the Winged Arrow. The treasurer of the Swift Construction Company might well be anxious.
“If she’s a fizzle, Tom, my boy,” he said mournfully, “we’ll all have to go into bankruptcy.”
“She may not be an unqualified success right at the start,” rejoined the young inventor, with confidence. “But I mean to make her fly and sail and make a proper landing on the earth and water before I am through.”
The morning of the day on which the test flight of the new plane was to occur, Tom Swift was awakened at eight o’clock, a late hour for him, by the ringing of his private radio-telephone. He rolled over in bed and grabbed the instrument, removed the receiver and sleepily shouted:
“Hullo!”
“Tom Swift?” came the voice over the wire—a voice that was quite unfamiliar to the inventor.
“Speaking,” replied Tom, yawning. “Excuse me. Who is it?”
“That does not matter—just now,” said the voice clearly. “I want you to do me a favor.”