“I suppose you are getting ready to go, Mr. Damon?” remarked Ned.

“Hush!” cautioned the odd man, looking quickly around the room.  “I haven’t said anything to my wife about it yet.  You know she doesn’t like me to go off on these ‘wild goose chases’ as she calls them, with you, Tom Swift.  But bless my railroad ticket!  It’s half the fun of my life.”

“Then don’t you think you can go?” asked the young inventor eagerly, for he had formed a strong like for Mr. Damon, and would very much reprait to go without him.

“Oh, bless my necktie!  I think I’ll be able to manage it,” was the answer.  “I’m not going to tell her anything about it until the last minute, and then I’ll promise to bring her back one of the golden images.  She won’t object then.”

“Good!” exclaimed Tom.  “I hope we can all bring back some of the images.”

“Yes, I know who you’ll bring one for,” said Ned with a laugh, and he took care to get beyond the reach of Tom’s fist.  “Her first name is Mary,” he added.

“You get out!” laughed Tom, blushing at the same time.

“Ah!  What a thing it is to be young!” exclaimed Mr. Damon with a mock sigh.  The boys laughed, for the old man, though well along in years, was a boy at heart.

They talked at some length, speculating when they might hear from Mr. Illingway, and discussing the sort of an outfit that would be best to take with them.

Then, as the afternoon was drawing to a close, Tom and Ned went back in the aeroplane, hearing the news about the Fogers as I have previously mentioned.

“Well, I’ll have to wait until I do see Andy to take it out of his hide,” remarked Tom grimly.  “I’m glad he’s out of the way, though.  There won’t be any more danger of his overhearing our plans, and I can work in peace on the dirigible balloon.”

Though Tom had many air crafts, the one he thought best suited to take with them on their search for the city of gold would have to be constructed from parts of several machines, and it would take some time.

Tom began work on it the next day, his father helping him, as did Mr. Damon and Ned occasionally.  Several weeks were spent in this way, meanwhile the mails being anxiously watched for news from Africa.

“Here you are, Tom!” called the postman one morning, as he walked out to the shop where the young inventor was busy over the balloon.  “Here’s another letter from that Buggy-wuggy place.”

“Oh, you mean Gumba Twamba, in Africa!” laughed the lad.  “Good!  That’s what I’ve been waiting for.  Now to see what the missionary says.”

“I hope you’re not going to go as a missionary to Africa, Tom,” said the postman.

“No danger.  This is just a letter from a friend there.  He sent me some facts so I can go off on another expedition.”

“Oh, you’re always going off on wild adventures,” commented Uncle Sam’s messenger with a shake of his head as he hurried away, while Tom tore open the letter from Africa and eagerly read it.