only about eighty an hour. We're doing seventy-five now, and I haven't let her out yet."
"She goes faster than the Red Cloud," cried Mr. Damon.
Tom nodded. It was hard work to talk in that rush of air. For an hour they shot along, their speed gradually increasing. Tom called out the names of the larger places they passed over. He was now doing better than eighty an hour as the gage showed. The trip was a glorious one, and the eyes of the young inventor and his friend sparkled in delight as they rushed forward. Two hours passed.
"Going to make it?" fairly howled Mr. Damon.
Tom nodded again.
"Be there in time for dinner," he announced in a shout. It lacked forty minutes of the three hours when Tom, pointing with one hand down below, while with the other he gripped the lever of the rudder, called:
"North Philadelphia!"
"So soon?" gasped Mr. Damon. "Well, we certainly made speed! Where are you going to land?"
"I don't know," answered the young inventor. "I'll have to pick out the best place I see. It's
