He and the lieutenant wheeled the machine back to
have another try, and this time they were successful in getting up
in the air. The aviator circled about and headed for Dankville,
the airship having come down about three miles from Uncle Ezra's
place.
"Well, you're flyin' that's a fact!" cried Mr. Crittenden, as he
looked aloft at them. "But I wouldn't be surprised t' see 'em come
smashin' down ag'in any minute," he added pessimistically. "Anyhow,
I got ten dollars out of Ezra Larabee!" he concluded, with a
chuckle.
Mr. Larabee looked glum when he and the lieutenant got back to the
airship shed.
"This is costing me a terrible pile of money!" said the crabbed old
man. "A terrible pile! And I reckon you'll have to spend more for
fixing her up; won't you?" he asked, in a tone that seemed to
indicate he hoped for a negative answer.
"Oh, yes, we'll have to fix her up," said the lieutenant, "and buy
a new carburetor, too. You know you promised that."
"Yes, I suppose so," sighed Uncle Ezra. "More money! And that
skunk Hank Crittenden got ten dollars out of me! I'll never hear
the last of that. I'd rather have landed anywhere but on his land.
Oh, this is awful! I wish I'd never gone into it."
"But think of the twenty thousand dollars," said the former army
man quickly. It would not do to have his employer get too much
discouraged. And the aviator wanted more money--very much more.
The airship was repaired in the next few days, though there was a
constant finding of fault on the part of Uncle Ezra.
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