"I do. I'm Mr. James Gunmore, secretary of the Eagle Park Aviation
Association. I had some correspondence with you about a prize contest we
are going to hold. I believe--"

"Oh, yes, I remember now," and the young inventor smiled pleasantly as
he opened wider the door of his home. "Won't you come in? My father will
be glad to see you. He is as much interested in airships as I am." And
Tom led the way to the library, where the secretary of the aviation
society was soon seated in a big, comfortable leather chair.

"I thought we could do better, and perhaps come to some decision more
quickly, if I came to see you, than if we corresponded," went on Mr.
Gunmore. "I hope I haven't disturbed you at any of your inventions," and
the secretary smiled at the youth.

"No. I'm through for to-day," replied Tom. "I'm glad to see you. I
thought at first it was my chum, Ned Newton. He generally runs over in
the evening."

"Our society, as I wrote you, Mr. Swift, is planning to hold a very
large and important aviation meet at Eagle Park, which is a suburb of
Westville, New York State. We expect to have all the prominent
'bird-men' there, to compete for prizes, and your name was mentioned. I
wrote to you, as you doubtless recall, asking if you did not care to
enter."

"And I think I wrote you that my big aeroplane-dirigible, the Red Cloud,
was destroyed in Alaska, during a recent trip we made to the caves of
ice there, after gold," replied Tom.