"Don't think of it!" said Uncle Ezra. "Nephew Richard, after my failure, you've just GOT to win that prize."
"I'll try," Dick answered.
It was several days after the events narrated in the last chapter. The wireless, sending out its crackling call, had brought speedy help from the army post, and the two lieutenants were taken to the hospital by their fellow soldiers.
Larson recovered consciousness before Dick and his friends left, but was delirious, and practically insane. They had to bind him with ropes to prevent him doing himself and others an injury. His mind had been affected for some time, it was believed.
Some time later, I am glad to say, he recovered, in a sanitorium, though he was always lame from the accident. He was a much different man, however, and begged Dick's forgiveness for trying to collide with him. Lieutenant Wilson made a quick recovery, and, in spite of the mishap, still kept up his interest in aviation, winning much fame for himself.
The army officers, who came to attend the injured ones, brought Dick some supplies and gasolene.
Uncle Ezra begged that some part of his wrecked airship be saved, but it was impossible. There was little left that was worth anything, and Dick, by taking his uncle as an extra passenger, added enough weight as it was, so that no parts of the Larabee could be taken along.
"I might have saved a little," said Uncle Ezra, with a sigh. "I've lost a pile of money!" But he realized that it was out of the question.
The Abaris had been gone over minutely, and put in excellent shape for her final dash. She was taken to the edge of a sloping table-land and there once more launched into space. Before that, however, Lieutenant Wilson had been taken back to the army post, and Larson sent to the hospital. Lieutenant Wilson wished Dick and his friends all sorts of good luck.
Then, with Uncle Ezra aboard, the start was made. There was some crowding, because of the extra passenger, and his valise, which he insisted on bringing with him, but this could be borne.