Tom Swift and His Sky Racer | Page 8

I've sent for the doctor. He'll fix you up. He'll be here soon."
"Yes, I'm--I'm ill," murmured the aged man. "Something hurts me--here," and he put his hand over his heart.
Tom felt a nameless sense of fear. He wished now that he had insisted on his parent consulting a physician some time before, when Mr. Swift first complained of a minor ailment. Perhaps now it was too late.
"Oh! when will that doctor come?" murmured Tom impatiently.
Mrs. Baggert, who was nervously going in and out of the room, again went to the telephone.
"He's on his way," the housekeeper reported. "His wife said he just started out in his auto."
Dr. Gladby hurried into the room a little later, and cast a quick look at Mr. Swift, who had again lapsed into unconsciousness.
"Do you think he--think he's going to die?" faltered Tom. He was no longer the self-reliant young inventor. He could meet danger bravely when it threatened himself alone, but when his father was stricken he seemed to lose all courage.
"Die? Nonsense!" exclaimed the doctor heartily. "He's not dead yet, at all events, and while there's life there's hope. I'll soon have him out of this spell."
It was some little time, however, before Mr. Swift again opened his eyes, but he seemed to gain strength from the remedies which Dr. Gladby administered, and in about an hour the inventor could sit up.
"But you must be careful," cautioned the physician. "Don't overdo yourself. I'll be in again in the morning, and now I'll leave you some medicine, to be taken every two hours."
"Oh, I feel much better," said Mr. Swift, and his voice certainly seemed Stronger. "I can't imagine what happened. I came upstairs, after Tom had received a visit from the minister, and that's all I remember."
"The minister, father!" exclaimed Tom, in great amazement. "The minister wasn't here this evening! That was Mr. Gunmore, the aviation secretary. Don't you remember?"
"I don't remember any gentleman like that calling here to-night," Mr. Swift said blankly. "It was the minister, I'm sure, Tom."
"The minister was here last night, Mr. Swift," said the housekeeper.
"Was he? Why, it seems like to-night. And I came upstairs after talking to him, and then it all got black, and--and--"
"There, now; don't try to think," advised the doctor. "You'll be all right in the morning."
"But I can't remember anything about that aviation man," protested Mr. Swift. "I never used to be that way-- forgetting things. I don't like it!"
"Oh, it's just because you're tired," declared the physician. "It will all come back to you in the morning. I'll stop in and see you then. Now try to go to sleep." And he left the room.
Tom followed him, Mrs. Baggert and Mr. Jackson remaining with the sick man.
"What is the matter with my father, Dr. Gladby?" asked Tom earnestly, as the doctor prepared to take his departure. "Is it anything serious?"
"Well," began the medical man, "I would not be doing my duty, Tom, if I did not tell you what it is. That is, it is comparatively serious, but it is curable, and I think we can bring him around. He has an affection of the heart, that, while it is common enough, is sometimes fatal.
"But I do not think it will be so in your father's case. He has a fine constitution, and this would never have happened had he not been run down from overwork. That is the principal trouble. What he needs is rest; and then, with the proper remedies, he will be as well as before."
"But that strange lapse of memory, doctor?"
"Oh, that is nothing. It is due to the fact that he has been using his brain too much. The brain protests, and refuses to work until rested. Your father has been working rather hard of late hasn't he?"
"Yes; on a new wireless motor."
"I thought so. Well, a good rest is what he needs, and then his mind and body will be in tune again. I'll be around in the morning."
Tom was somewhat relieved by the doctor's words, but not very much so, and he spent an anxious night, getting up every two hours to administer the medicine. Toward morning Mr. Swift fell into a heavy sleep, and did not awaken for some time.
"Oh, you're much better!" declared Dr. Gladby when he saw his patient that day.
"Yes, I feel better," admitted Mr Swift.
"And can't you remember about Mr. Gunmore calling?" asked Tom.
The aged inventor shook his head, with a puzzled air.
"I can't remember it at all," he said. "The minister is the last person I remember calling here."
Tom looked worried, but the physician said it was a common feature of the disease from which Mr. Swift suffered, and would doubtless pass away.
"And you don't remember how we talked about me building a speedy aeroplane and trying for the