They drove on at a breath-catching pace, and it seemed hardly a minute after leaving Mrs. Damon’s house before Tom called: 

“There’s the building where the telephone is located.”

“And now for that rascal Peters!” cried Ned.

The airship swooped down, to the great astonishment of some workmen nearby.

Hardly had the wheels ceased revolving on the ground, as Tom made a quick landing, than he was out of his seat, and running toward the telephone.  He knew the place at once from having heard Ned’s description, and besides, this was one of the places where he had installed his apparatus.

Into the store Tom burst, and made a rush for the ’phone booth.  He threw open the door.  The place was empty!

“The man—­the man who was telephoning!” Tom called to the proprietor of the place.

“You mean that big man, with the tall hat, who was in there so long?”

“Yes, where is he?”

“Gone.  About two minutes ago.”

“Which way?”

“Over toward Shopton, and in one of the fastest autos that ever scattered dust in this section.”

“He’s escaped us!” said Tom to Ned.  “But we’ll get him yet!  Come on!”

“I’m with you.  Say, do you know what this looks like to me?”

“What?”

“It looks as if Peters was scared and was going to run away to stay!”

CHAPTER XXIII

ON THE TRAIL

Such a crowd had quickly gathered about Tom’s airship that it was impossible to start it.  Men and boys, and even some girls and women, coming from no one knew where, stood about the machine, making wondering remarks about it.

“Stand back, if you please!” cried Tom, good-naturedly.  “We’ve got to get after the fellow in the auto.”

“You’ll have hard work catching him, friend, in that rig,” remarked a man.  “He was fracturing all the speed laws ever passed.  I reckon he was going nigh onto sixty miles an hour.”

“We can make a hundred,” spoke Ned, quietly.

“A hundred!  Get out!” cried the man.  “Nothing can go as fast as that!”

“We’ll show you, if we once get started,” said Tom.  “I guess we’ll have to get one of these fellows to twirl the propellers for us, Ned,” he added.  “I didn’t think, or I’d have brought the self-starting machine,” for this one of Tom’s had to be started by someone turning over the propellers, once or twice, to enable the motor to begin to speed.  On some of his aircraft the young inventor had attached a starter, something like the ones on the newest autos.

“What are you going to do?” asked Ned, as Tom looked to the priming of the cylinders.

“I’m going to get on the trail of Peters,” he said.  “He’s at the bottom of the whole business; and it’s a surprise to me.  I’m going to trail him right down to the ground now, and make him give up Mr. Damon and his fortune,”