ride in the air, Mary—that is, the first one of any account," for Mary had been in an aeroplane before, though only up a little way—a sort of "grass-cutting stunt," Tom called it.

Waving farewell to the pretty girl, the young aviator turned the auto about and speeded for his home and the shops adjoining it. His father had not been well, of late, and Tom was a bit anxious about him.

"Mr. Damon may bother him, though he wouldn't mean to," thought Tom. "He seemed to have his mind filled with some new idea. I wonder if it is anything like mine? No, it couldn't be. Well, I'll soon find out," and, putting his foot on the accelerator, Tom sent the machine along at a pace that soon brought him within sight of his home.

"Is father all right?" he asked Mrs. Baggert, who was out on the front porch, as though waiting for him.

"Oh, yes, Tom, he's all right," the housekeeper answered.

"Is Mr. Damon with him?"

"No."

"He hasn't gone home, has he?"

"No, he's around somewhere. But some one else is with your father. Some visitors."

"Any relations?"

"No; strangers. They came to see you, and they're rather impatient. I came out to see if you were in sight. Your father sent me."

"Are they bothering him—talking business that I ought to attend to when he's ill? That mustn't be."

"Well, I suppose it is business that the strangers are talking over with your father, Tom," said Mrs. Baggert, "for I heard sums of money spoken of. But your father seems to be all right, only a trifle anxious that you should come."

"Well, I'm here now and I'll attend to things. Where are the strangers, and who are they?"

"I don't know," answered the housekeeper. "I never saw them before, but they're in the library with your father. Do you think they'll stay to dinner? If you do, I'll have Eradicate or Koku catch and kill a chicken."

"If you let one do it don't tell the other about it," said Tom with a laugh, "or you'll have a chicken race around the yard that will make the visitors sit up and take notice."

There was great rivalry between Eradicate Sampson, the aged colored man, and Koku, the giant, and they were continually disputing. Each one loved and served Tom in his own way, and there was jealousy between them. Koku, the giant Tom had brought with him from the land where the young inventor had been made captive, was a big, powerful man, and could do things the aged colored servant could not attempt. But "Rad," as he was often called, and his mule "Boomerang" had long been fixtures on the Swift homestead. But old age crept on apace with Eradicate, though he hated to admit it, and Koku did many things the colored man had formerly attended to, and Rad was always on the lookout not to be supplanted. Hence Tom's warning to Mrs. Baggert about letting the two be entrusted with the same mission of catching a chicken for the pot.

"Better get the fowl yourself and say nothing to either of them about it," Tom advised the housekeeper. "Mr. Damon will stay to dinner, as he always does when he comes, and as it's near twelve now, and as I may be delayed talking business to these strangers, you'd better get up a bigger meal than usual."

"I will, Tom," promised Mrs. Baggert. And then the young inventor, having seen that one of the men took the automobile to the garage, went into the house.

"Oh, here you are!" was his father's greeting, as he came out into the hall from the library. "I've been waiting anxiously for you, my boy. I couldn't think what was keeping you."

"Oh, I had a little trouble with the air machine—nothing serious."

A moment later Tom was standing before two well-dressed, prosperous-looking business men, who smiled pleasantly at him.

"Mr. Thomas Swift?" interrogated one, the elder, as he held out his hand.

"That's my name," answered Tom, pleasantly.

"I'm Peton Gale, and this gentleman is Boland Ware," went on the man who had taken Tom's hand. "I'm president and he's treasurer of the Universal Flying Machine Company, of New York."

"Oh, yes," said Tom, as he shook hands with Mr. Ware. "I have heard of your concern. You are doing a lot of government work, are you not?"

"Yes; war orders. And we're up to our neck in them. This war is going to be almost as much fought in the air as on the ground, Mr. Swift."

"I can well believe that," agreed Tom. "Won't you have a chair?"

"Well, we didn't come to stay long," said Mr. Gale with a laugh, which, somehow or other, grated on Tom and seemed to him insincere. "Our business is such a rushing one that we don't spend much time anywhere. To get down to brass tacks, we have come to see you to put a certain proposition before you, Mr. Swift. You are open to a business proposition, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes," answered Tom. "That's what I'm here for."

"I thought so. Well, now I'll tell you, in brief, what we want, and then Mr. Ware, our treasurer, can elaborate on it, and give you facts and figures about which I never bother myself. I attend to the executive end and leave the details to others," and again came that laugh which Tom did not like.

"You came here to make me an offer?" asked the young inventor, wondering to which of his many machines the visitors had reference.

"Yes," went on Mr. Gale, "we came here to make you a big offer. In short, Mr. Swift, we want you to work for our company, and we are willing to pay you ten thousand dollars a year for the benefit of your advice and your inventive abilities. Ten thousand dollars a year! Do you accept?"

CHAPTER IV

MR. DAMON'S WHIZZER

Characteristic it was of Tom Swift that he did not seem at all surprised at what most young men would call a liberal offer. Certainly not many youths of Tom's age would be sought out by a big manufacturing concern, and offered ten thousand dollars a year "right off the reel," as Ned Newton expressed it later. But Tom only smiled and shook his head in negation.

"What!" cried Mr. Gale, "you mean you won't accept our offer?"

"I can't," answered Tom.

"You can't!" exclaimed the treasurer, Mr. Ware. "Oh, I see. Mr. Gale, a word with you. Excuse us a moment," he added to Tom and his father.

The two men consulted in a corner of the library for a moment, and then, with smiles on their faces, once more turned toward the young inventor.

"Well, perhaps you are right, Tom Swift," said Mr. Gale. "Of course, we recognize your talents and ability, but you cannot blame us for trying to get talent, as well as material for our airships, in the cheapest market. But we are not hide-bound, nor sticklers for any set sum. We'll make that offer fifteen thousand dollars a year, if you will sign a five-year contract and agree that we shall have first claim on anything and everything you may patent or invent in that time. Now, how does that strike you? Fifteen thousand dollars a year—paid weekly if you wish, and our Mr. Ware, here, has a form of contract which can be fixed up and signed within ten minutes, if you agree."

"Well, I don't like to be disagreeable," said Tom with a smile; "but, really, as I said before, I can't accept your very kind offer. I may say liberal offer. I appreciate that."

"You can't accept!" cried Mr. Gale.

"Are you sure you don't mean 'won't'?" asked Mr. Ware, in a half growl.

"You may call it that if you like," replied Tom, a bit coolly, for he did not like the other's tone, "Only, as I say, I cannot accept. I have other plans."

"Oh, you—" began the brusk treasurer, but Mr. Gale, the president of the Universal Flying Machine Company, stopped his associate with a warning look.

"Just a moment, Mr. Swift," begged the president. "Don't be hasty. We are prepared to make you a last and final offer, and I do not believe you can refuse it."

"Well, I certainly will not refuse it without hearing it," said Tom, with a smile he meant to make