tellifoam! Git fo' doctors!"

"We must get him into the house first," declared Mr. Damon,
who, seeing that Tom was off the shed roof, had stopped mid-way
to the powerhouse, and retraced his steps. "Let's carry him into
the house. Bless my pocketbook! but he must have been shocked
worse than he thought."

They lifted the inert form of our hero and walked toward the
mansion with him, Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper, standing in the
doorway in dismay, uncertain what to do.

And while Tom is being cared for I will take just a moment to
tell my new readers something more about him and his inventions,
as they have been related in the previous books of this series.

The first volume was called "Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle,"
and this machine was the means of his becoming acquainted with
Mr. Wakefield Damon, the odd gentleman who so often blessed
things. On his motor-cycle Tom had many adventures.

The lad was of an inventive mind, as was his father, and in the
succeeding books of the series, which you will find named in
detail elsewhere, I related how Tom got a motorboat, made an
airship, and later a submarine, in all of which craft he had
strenuous times and adventures.

His electric runabout was quite the fastest car on the road,
and when he sent his wonderful wireless message he saved himself
and others from Earthquake Island. He solved the secret of the