of the family, and was often at Tom's home, coming from the
neighboring town of Waterford, where he lived.

Tom had been back some time now from working for the government
in detecting the smugglers, but, as you may well suppose, he had
not been idle. Inventing a number of small things, including
useful articles for the house, was a sort of recreation for him,
but his mind was busy on one great scheme, which I will tell you
about in due time.

Among other things he had just perfected a new style of magneto
for one of his airships. The magneto, as you know, is a sort of
small dynamo, that supplies the necessary spark to the cylinder,
to explode the mixture of air and gasoline vapor. He was trying
out this magneto in the Humming Bird when the accident I have
related in the first chapter occurred.

"There! He's coming to!" exclaimed Mrs. Baggert, as she leaned
over Tom, who was stretched out on the sofa in the library. "Give
him another smell of this ammonia," she went on, handing the
bottle to Mr. Swift.

"No--no," faintly murmured Tom, opening his eyes. "I--I've had
enough of that, if you please! I'm all right."

"Are you sure, Tom?" asked his father. "Aren't you hurt
anywhere?"

"Not a bit, Dad! It was foolish of me to go off that way; but I
couldn't seem to help it. It all got black in front of me, and--