“Twenty thousand dollars!” murmured Mr. Damon softly. “It’s a pile of money, Bart!”
“I know it is,” agreed Mr. Swift. “But I have more than twenty thousand dollars worth of faith in Tom. I know he can do it!”
“That’s right! He can!” burst out the eccentric visitor. “Bless my bald spot, but I’m almost willing to do some betting myself!”
“Leave this to me,” begged Mr. Swift. “You know Tom pretty well, for you’ve been on enough queer trips with him—more than I have, as a matter of fact. But I want to vindicate him and prove that I believe in him, and I’m willing to do it to the extent of twenty thousand dollars.”
“All right! All right!” exclaimed Mr. Trace, with a snapping of his fingers. “If you feel that way about it, Bart, put me down for ten thousand dollars. I can use that sum very nicely.”
“If you get it—which you won’t!” chuckled Mr. Swift grimly.
“Not if Tom can help it!” echoed Mr. Damon. “Bless my——”
But he got no chance to complete one of his odd expressions, for Mr. Swift interrupted with:
“Tom doesn’t know anything about it yet. I’ll have to call him in and tell him and urge him to get busy and invent a new aeroplane or something, for, frankly, I don’t believe he has just the proper piece of apparatus yet to do the trick!”
“Whew!” whistled Mr. Burch. “And yet you’re willing to bet that Tom can do it!”