This suit is plumb ruined now. I
swan I'd never have gone in for airships if I knew how expensive
they'd be. This suit cost thirteen dollars and--"
"You're lucky you don't have to pay for a funeral," was the
lieutenant's grim answer. "You must look to your seat strap better
than that."
"Well, I didn't know the blamed thing was going to cut up like
this!" returned the crabbed old man. "That's no way to land."
"I know it. But I couldn't help it," was the answer. "I'm glad
you're not hurt. But I think we have attracted some attention.
Here comes someone."
A man was running through the orchard.
"It's Hank Crittenden, and he hates me like poison!" murmured Uncle
Ezra, as he arose from the pile of dirt, and tried to get some of
it off his clothes.
"Hi, there! What's this mean?" demanded Hank, as he rushed up,
clutching a stout club. "What d'ye mean, comin' down in my orchard,
and bustin' up my best Baldwin tree? What d'ye mean?"
"It was an accident--purely an accident," said Lieutenant Larson,
suavely. "It could not be helped."
"Accident? You done it on puppose, that's what you did!" cried
Hank, glaring at Uncle Ezra. "You done it on puppose, and I'll sue
ye for damages, that's what I'll do! That Baldwin apple tree was
one of the best in my orchard."
"Well, we didn't mean to do it," declared Mr. Larabee. "And if you
sue we can prove in court it was an accident. So you'll have your
trouble for your pains.
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