“You’d better withdraw this charge against me, Swift!” stormed Hussy when he was being arraigned before being taken off to jail.
“Withdraw nothing!” snapped the young inventor. “You’re going to stay locked up a long time! Kilborn will have to get along without you and your pal!”
A dangerous look came into the eyes of the trapped man. He shook his fist at Tom when being led back to a cell and muttered:
“You’ll be sorry for this, Tom Swift!”
But Tom was not worried and hastened back to his hangar to make ready for the flight to Long Island whence the world race would start the following day.
There was little ceremony attendant upon the departure of Tom and his friends from Shopton, since Mr. Swift, Mary, and Mr. Damon had arranged to see them off in Long Island. When the Air Monarch had been gone over finally by Tom and his mechanics, the craft was wheeled out of the hangar, the five who were to make the trip got into the cabin, and Tom, at the motor controls and steering levers, called:
“All clear?”
“All clear!” answered Mr. Jackson.
“Let’s go, then!” exclaimed the young inventor, and with a wave of his hand to his father, Mary, Mr. Damon, and the crowd of workmen, Tom pulled the starting lever.
The big propellers began whizzing, the machine moved across the smooth aero field with ever increasing speed, and a moment later took the air with the ease and lightness of a regular aeroplane and not like the heavy craft she was.