"And here is a picture showing the train climbing over the biplane!" returned Tom. "Say, it's a wonder we didn't wreck the Express instead of the Express wrecking us!"
On the day following the accident the boys were told, after class hours, that some gentlemen wished to see them. They went to the reception room, to find two men there—a lawyer and a doctor.
"You are the—er—the young gentlemen who were in the—er—the flying machine smash-up?" queried one of the visitors, sharply.
"Yes," answered Dick.
"Mr. Rover?"
"Yes, Richard Rover."
"Just so. Glad to know you. My name is Fogg—Belright Fogg. This is Doctor Slamper. We represent the railroad company, Mr. Rover. The doctor came along to see if you had been hurt."
"I got this," answered Dick, with a quiet smile, and pointed to the lump on his forehead.
"Ah, yes, I see," put in Doctor Slamper. "Not very serious, I take it."
"Oh, it didn't kill me."
"Ha! ha! Good joke, Mr. Rover! Feel pretty good otherwise, eh?"
"Oh, I'm able to sit up."
