SAVING UNCLE EZRA
For a moment those aboard Dick's airship uttered not a sound. Then, as
they saw the rival craft sifting slowly downward, gliding from side to
side like a sheet of paper, they looked at one another with horror in
their eyes. It seemed such a terrible end.
Dick was the first to speak.
"We'll have to go down and help them," he said simply. "Some of them
may be--alive!"
It meant stopping the race, it meant making the last of the two
landings allowed them. And it was a landing in a wild and desolate
place, seemingly, for there was no sign of city or town below them. And
just now, after her repairs, when everything was running smoothly, it
behooved Dick and his associates to take advantage of every mile and
minute they could gain. Otherwise some other craft might get in ahead
of them.
Yet Dick had said they must go down. There was no other course left
them, in the name of humanity. As the young millionaire had observed,
some of those in the wrecked airship might be alive. They might
survive the fall, great as it was.
"Send her down, Mr. Vardon," said Dick quietly. "We may be able to
save some of them."
If he thought that possibly he was losing his last chance to win the
trans-continental race, he said nothing about it.
The motor was shut off, and there was silence aboard the Abaris. No one
felt like talking. As they volplaned downward they saw the wreck of
the Larabee strike the outer branches of a big tree, and then turn over
again before crashing to the ground.
"She may catch fire from the gasolene," said Dick, in a tense voice.
"We ought to hurry all we can."
"I could go down faster," said Mr. Vardon, "by starting up the motor.
But I don't like to until I see what sort of landing ground we'll have."
"No, it's wiser to go a bit slowly," agreed Lieutenant McBride. "We
must save ourselves in order to save them--if possible. It's a
terrible accident!"
As they came nearer earth they saw a comparatively smooth and level
spot amid a clearing of trees. It was not far from where the wreck
lay, a crumpled-up mass. Down floated the Abaris gently, and hardly
had she ceased rolling along on her wheels that Dick and the others
rushed out to lend their aid to Uncle Ezra and the others.
Dick's uncle lay at some little distance from the broken craft.
"He's alive," said his nephew, feeling of the old man's heart. "He's
still breathing."
Lieutenant Wilson, as the name of the army officer on the Larabee was
learned later to be, seemed quite badly injured. He was tangled up in
the wreckage, and it took some work to extricate him. Larson was the
most severely hurt. He was tenderly placed to one side. Fortunately
the wreck had not caught fire.
"Let's see if we can revive them," suggested Lieutenant McBride,
nodding toward Uncle Ezra and his fellow soldiers. "Then we will
consider what is best to do."
Simple restoratives were carried aboard Dick's airship, and these were
given to Uncle Ezra, who revived first. He opened his eyes and sat up.
"Where--where am I?" he stammered. "Did I win the race?"
"No, Uncle Ezra, I'm sorry to say you didn't," answered Dick, gently.
"There was an accident, and your airship is smashed."
The old man slowly looked over to the crumpled mass of planes and
machinery, and then, slowly and painfully, for he was much bruised, he
pulled a note-book from his pocket. Leafing over the pages he
announced:
"Busted to smithereens, and she cost me exactly eleven thousand five
hundred and thirty-three dollars and nineteen cents! Oh, what a lot of
money!" And the expression on his face was so painful that Dick felt
inclined to laugh, solemn as the occasion was. But he restrained
himself.
"Where's that fellow Larson?" asked Uncle Ezra.
"Badly hurt," said Dick, quietly.
"Oh, well, then I won't say anything," murmured the old man. "Oh, what
a trip it was!"
"Are you much hurt?" asked Dick.
It did not appear that his uncle was. The fall had been a lucky one
for him. His helmet had protected his head, and he had on two suits of
clothes, well padded. The others were dressed likewise, but it had not
saved Larson.
Lieutenant Wilson's most serious injury was a broken leg, but he was
also otherwise hurt. He soon recovered consciousness, and said:
"Please don't misjudge me. I could not stop Larson from trying to ram
you. He was insane, I guess. We have had a terrible time with him.
He was mad to try to win this race. We remonstrated with him when he
sailed toward you, but he said he was only trying to show you what a
superior machine he had, and how much better his mercury stabilizers
worked than your gyroscope. But I really fear he meant you some
injury."
"I think so, too," said Lieutenant McBride, "and I am glad to learn no
one else was in the plot."
"And his own foolish actions were the cause of this wreck," went on
Lieutenant Wilson. "He said he was sure of winning after he had left
you behind, and he wanted to try some experiments in quick turns. He
made one too quick, and broke off one of the planes."
"Well, we must consider what is to be done," said Mr. Vardon. "We must
get you all to a hospital and a doctor, at once."
"Don't mind about me," replied Lieutenant Wilson, gamely. "If you can
send me help, do so, but don't delay here. Go on and win the race.
You have the best chance, I believe."
"We don't go on until we see you cared for," spoke Dick. "We would
take you all with us, only it might endanger you."
"Well, I wish you'd take me!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra, limping about. "I
want to get back home. Nephew Richard, I'm sorry I tried to beat you
in this race."
"That's all right, Uncle Ezra," answered the young millionaire. "You
had as good a right to try for the prize as I did."
"But I want to say I didn't have no hand in trying to butt into you,"
went on Mr. Larabee. "It was all that--that unfortunate man's idea,"
he added more softly, as he gazed at Larson who was still unconscious.
"Dick, will you forgive me, and shake hands?"
"Surely, Uncle Ezra," and as their hands met, Grit, who had been eyeing
Mr. Larabee narrowly, uttered a joyful bark, and actually wagged his
tail at Uncle Ezra.
"Grit, you shake hands, too," ordered Dick, and though Uncle Ezra was a
little diffident at first, he grasped the extended paw of the bulldog.
They were friends for the first time.
"We could take Uncle Ezra in the airship," said Paul, after a pause,
"and if we could only send out a call for help for Lieutenant Wilson
and Larson, they would be looked after."
"There's an army post not far from here," spoke Wilson. "If you could
make a trip there--"
"We'd have to land again, to summon aid, and this is the last stop we
are allowed in the race," said Mr. Vardon. "I don't see how--"
"Your wireless!" interrupted Lieutenant McBride. "We can send out a
call to the army post by that--if they have a wireless station."
"They have," answered Lieutenant Wilson, as his fellow officer looked
at him. "If you will summon aid from there, we will be well taken care
of."
"Good!" cried Dick. "That problem is solved."
The wireless apparatus was brought out, the small balloon inflated, and
it carried aloft the aerials. Then, while the call for aid was being
sent out, Lieutenants Wilson and Larson were made as comfortable as
possible, and some of Uncle Ezra's scratches and bruises were looked
after.
"No more airships for me," he said bitterly, though with a chastened
spirit. "I'm going to stick to farming, and my woolen mill. Just
think of it--over eleven thousand dollars in that pile of--junk!" and
he shook his head sadly at the wreck of his airship.
"We'll take you on to San Francisco with us, if you like," said Dick.
"You can see us win the race--if we can," he added.
"You still have an excellent chance," said Lieutenant McBride. "My
advice to you would be to remain here a few days to rest up and make
sure all your machinery is in good order. The time will not count
against you. By that time the injured ones will be cared for. Then
you can go on again and complete the course. You have enough oil and
gasolene, have you not?"
"We could ask that some be brought from the army post, if we have not,"
Dick answered. "I think we will adopt that plan.''
"And I--I hope you win," said Uncle Ezra. "I'd like to see that twenty
thousand dollars come into the family, anyhow," he added, with a
mountainous sigh.