Chapter Twenty-One
"Will He Live?"
Soon there were busy scenes in the Swift home, as preparations weremade for a serious operation on the aged inventor. Tom's father hadsunk into deep unconsciousness, and was stretched out on the bed asthough there was no more life in him. In fact, Tom, for the moment,feared that it was all over. But good old Dr. Kurtz, noting the look onthe lad's face, said:
"Ach, Dom, doan't vorry! Maybe it vill yet all be vell, und der vatervill hear of der great race. Bluck up your courage, und doan't gif up.Der greatest surgeon in der vorld is here now, und if anybody gan safeyour vater, Herr Hendriz gan. Dot vos a great drip you made--a greatdrip!"
Tom felt a little comforted and, after a sight of his father, and asilent prayer that God would spare his life for years to come, theyoung inventor went out in the yard. He wanted to be busy aboutsomething, for he knew, with the doctors, and a trained nurse who hadbeen hastily summoned, there was no immediate need for him. He wantedto get his mind off the operation that would soon take place, and so hedecided to look over his aeroplane.
Mr. Damon came out when Tom was going over the guy wires and braces, tosee how they had stood the strain.
"Well, Tom, my lad," said the eccentric man, sadly, as he grasped ourhero's hand, "it's too bad. But hope for the best. I'm sure your fatherwill pull through. We will have to begin taking the Humming-Bird apartsoon; won't we, if we're going to ship it to Eagle Park?" He wanted totake Tom's mind off his troubles.
"I don't know whether we will or not," was the answer, and Tom tried tospeak unbrokenly, but there was a troublesome lump in his throat, and amist of tears in his eyes that prevented him from seeing well. TheHumming-Bird, to him, looked as if she was in a fog.
"Nonsense! Of course we will!" cried Mr. Damon. "Why, bless mywishbone! Tom, you don't mean to say you're going to let that littleshrimp Andy Foger walk away with that ten-thousand-dollar prize withoutgiving him a fight for it; are you?"
This was just what Tom needed, and it seemed good to have Mr. Damonbless something again, even if it was only a wishbone.
"No!" exclaimed Tom, in ringing tones. "Andy Foger isn't going to beatme, and if I find out he is going to race with a machine made after mystolen plans, I'll make him wish he'd never taken them."
"But if the machine he had flying over here when he dropped that bombon the shed roof, and set fire to it, is the one he's going to racewith, it isn't like yours," suggested Mr. Damon, who was glad he hadturned the conversation into a more cheerful channel.
"That's so," agreed the young inventor. "Well, we'll have to wait andsee." He was busy now, going over every detail of the Humming-Bird. Mr.Damon helped him, and they discovered the defect in the equilibriumweights, and remedied it.
"We can't afford to have an accident in the race," said Tom. He glancedtoward the house, and wondered if the operation had begun yet. He couldsee the trained nurse hurrying here and there, Mrs. Baggert helping her.
Eradicate Sampson shuffled out from the stable where he kept his muleBoomerang. On the face of the honest colored man there was a dejectedlook.
"Am Massa Swift any better, Massa Tom?" he asked.
"We can't tell yet," was the answer.
"Well, if he doan't git well, den I'm goin' t' sell mah mule," went onthe dirt-chaser, from which line of activity Eradicate had derived hisname.
"Sell Boomerang! Bless my curry comb! what for?" asked Mr. Damon.
"'Case as how he wouldn't neber be any good fo' wuk any mo'," explainedEradicate. "He's got so attached t' dis place, an' all de folkes on it,dat he'd feel so sorry ef--ef--well, ef any ob 'em went away, dat Icouldn't git no mo' wuk out ob him, no how. So ef Massa Swift doan'tgit well, den I an' Boomerang parts!"
"Well, we hope it won't happen," said Tom, greatly touched by thesimple grief of Eradicate. The young inventor was silent a moment, andthen he softly added: "I--I wonder when--when we'll know?"
"Soon now, I think," answered Mr. Damon, in a low voice.
Silently they waited about the aeroplane. Tom tried to busy himself,but he could not. He kept his eyes fastened on the house.
It seemed like several hours, but it was not more than one, ere thewhite-capped nurse came to the door and waved her hand to Tom. Hesprang to his feet and rushed forward. What would be the message he wasto receive?
He stood before the nurse, his heart madly beating. She looked gentlyat him.
"Will he--will he live?" Tom asked, pantingly.
"I think so," she answered gently. "The operation is over. It was asuccess, so far. Time alone will tell, now. Dr. Hendrix says you cansee your father for just a moment."