"No, Mr. Damon," interrupted Tom, "I don't count on going on any sort of a trip--that is, any long one. I was just getting ready to take a little spin in the Hawk, and if you'd like to come along--" "You mean that saucy little airship of yours, Tom, that's always trying to sit down on her tail, or tickle herself with one wing?" "That's the Hawk!" laughed Tom; "though that tickling business you speak of is when I spiral. Don't you like it?" "Can't say I do," observed Mr. Damon dryly. "Well, I'll promise not to try any stunts if you come along," Tom went on. "Where are you going?" asked his friend. "Oh, no place in particular. As you surmised, I've been doing a bit of thinking, and--" "Serious thinking, too, Tom!" interrupted Mr. Damon. "Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhearing what you said. It was something about going to do something though you didn't want to, and that it was part of your 'bit'. That sounds like soldier talk. Are you going to enlist, Tom?" "No." "Um! Well, then--" "It's something I can't talk about, Mr. Damon, even to you, as yet," Tom said, and there was a new quality in his voice, at which his friend looked up in some surprise. "Oh, of course, Tom, if it's a secret--" "Well, it hasn't even got that far, as yet. It's all up in the air, so to speak. I'll tell you in due season. But, speaking of the air, let's go for a spin. It may drive some of the cobwebs out of my brain. Did I hear you say you thought it would rain?" "No, it's as clear as a bell. I said I hoped it wouldn't rain for the sake of the soldiers in camp. They've had their share of wet weather, and, goodness knows, they'll get more when they get to Flanders. It seems to do nothing but rain in France." "It is damp," agreed Tom. "And, come to think of it, they are going to have some airship contests over at camp to-day--for the men who are being trained to be aviators, you know. It just occurred to me that we might fly over there and watch them." "Fine!" cried Mr. Damon. "That's the very thing I should like. I'll take a chance in your Hawk, Tom, if you'll promise not to try any spiral stunts." "I promise, Mr. Damon. Come on! I'll have Koku run the machine out and get her ready for a flight to Camp. It's a good day for a jaunt in the air." "Get out the Hawk, Koku," ordered the young inventor, as he motioned to a big man--a veritable giant--who nodded to show he understood. Koku was really a giant, one of a race of strange beings, and Tom Swift had brought the big man with him when he escaped from captivity, as those will remember who have read that book. "Going far, Tom?" asked an aged man, coming to the door of one of the many buildings of which the shed where the airship was kept formed one. "Not very far, Father," answered the young inventor. "Mr. Damon and I are going for a little spin over to Camp Grant, to see some aircraft contests among the army birdmen."