proud of."

"And he wants us to go still farther, dad," broke in the youth. "Me
wants me to build a specially speedy aeroplane, and race for ten
thousand dollars."

"Hum!" mused Mr. Swift. "Well, are you going to do it, Tom? Seems to me
you ought to take a rest. You haven't been back from your gold-hunting
trip to Alaska long enough to more than catch your breath, and now--"

"Oh, he doesn't have to go in this right away," eagerly explained Mr.
Gunmore. "There is plenty of time to make a new craft."

"Well, Tom can do as he likes about it," said his father. "Do you think
you could build anything speedier than your Butterfly, son?"

"I think so, father. That is, if you'd help me. I have a plan partly
thought out, but it will take some time to finish it. Still, I might get
it done in time."

"I hope you'll try!" exclaimed the secretary. "May I ask whether it
would be a monoplane or a biplane?"

"A monoplane, I think," answered Tom. "They are much more speedy than
the double-deckers, and if I'm going to try for the ten thousand dollars
I need the fastest machine I can build."

"We have the promise of one or two very fast monoplanes for the meet,"
went on Mr. Gunmore. "Would yours be of a new type?"