"And I've got t' see if I kin get them pigs together," grumbled the farmer, as he pocketed Dick's money.
"You can put in a requisition for this, I suppose," suggested the lieutenant. "I don't know whether Uncle Sam ought to reimburse you, or we, personally."
"Don't mention it!" exclaimed Dick. "I'm always willing to pay for damages, though I suppose if my Uncle Ezra Larabee was here he'd haggle with that farmer and make him throw in a pig or two for luck."
"Who is Uncle Ezra Larabee?" asked the lieutenant, curiously.
"A relative of mine," answered Dick. "Rather 'close' as regards money."
"Is he rich?"
"Yes, quite wealthy, but you'd never know it. He lives in Dankville, and he and my dog Grit never can get along together. He hates Grit and I guess Grit doesn't love him. But shall we try to get this machine out of the shed?"
"I guess it's the best thing to do, now that the pigs are out of the way," agreed the captain.
And, while the farmer and his hired man were chasing after the escaped pigs, the army officers and Dick began extricating the airship. The splintered boards of the pig-shed were pulled to one side, and then it was seen that, aside from a broken landing wheel, little damage had been done. The engine was not harmed in the least and the snapped wire that had prevented the rudder being set to make a proper landing, was easy to splice.
"And, as we've got a spare wheel we can put that on and soon start back," said the lieutenant.