"That's what I have been at work on lately. I'll give you a little history of it, and then you may come inside and have a ride home."
"In that?" cried Mr. Damon.
"Yes. I can't promise to move as speedily as your car, but I can make better time than the British tanks. They go about six miles an hour, I understand, and I've got mine geared to ten. That's one improvement dad and I have made."
"Ride in that!" cried Mr. Nestor. "Tom, I like you, and I'm glad to see I've been mistaken about you. You have been doing your bit, after all; but—"
"Oh, I've only begun!" laughed Tom Swift.
"Well, no matter about that. However much I like you," went on Mr. Nestor, "I'd as soon ride on the wings of a thunderbolt as in Tank A, Tom Swift."
"Oh, it isn't as bad as that!" laughed the young scientist. "But neither is it a limousine. However, come inside, anyhow, and I'll tell you something about it. Then I guess we can guide it back. The men are repairing the break."
The visitors entered the great craft through the door by which Tom had emerged. At first all they saw was a small compartment, with walls of heavy steel, some shelves of the same and a seat which folded up against the wall made of like powerful material.
"This is supposed to be the captain's room, where he stays when he directs matters." Tom explained. "The machinery is below and beyond here."
"How'd you come to evolve this?" asked Ned. "I haven't seen half enough of the outside, to say nothing of the inside."