"What is the style of the Foger machine?" yelled some one in the crowd, as the announcer lowered his megaphone.
"It has not been announced," was the reply. "It will at once be wheeled out though, in accordance with the conditions of the race."
There was a craning of necks, and an uneasy movement in the crowd, for Tom's story was now generally known.
"Get ready to make your protest," advised Mr. Damon to the young inventor. "I'll stay by the machine here until you come back. Bless my radiator! I hope you beat him!"
"I will, if it's possible!" murmured Tom, with a grim tightening of his lips.
There was a movement about Andy's tent, whence, for the last half hour had come spasmodic noises that indicated the trying-out of the motor. The flaps were pulled back and a curious machine was wheeled into view. Tom rushed over toward it, intent on getting the first view. Would it prove to be a copy of his speedy Humming-Bird?
Eagerly he looked, but a curious sight met his eyes. The machine was totally unlike any he had expected to see. It was large, and to his mind rather clumsy, but it looked powerful. Then, as he took in the details, he knew that it was the
