"Well, I could eat a little snack," admitted the crabbed old man. "I did think of stopping in the restaurant at the railroad depot on my way here, and getting a sandwich. But the girl said sandwiches were ten cents, and they didn't look worth it to me.
"I asked her if she didn't have some made with stale bread, that she could let me have for five cents, but she said they didn't sell stale sandwiches. She seemed real put-out about it, too. She needn't have. Stale bread's better for you than fresh, anyhow.
"But I didn't buy one. I wasn't going to throw away ten cents. That's the interest money on a dollar for two whole years."
Then he started back to the house.
"Isn't he the limit!" cried Dick, in despair. "He's got almost as much money as we have, and he's so afraid of spending a cent that he actually goes hungry, I believe. And his house—why he's got a fine one, but the only rooms he and Aunt Samantha ever open are the kitchen and one bedroom. I had to spend some time there once, as I guess you fellows know, and say—good-night!" cried Dick, with a tragic gesture.
"He seemed interested in airships," ventured Paul.
"It was the twenty thousand dollars he was interested in," laughed Dick. "I wonder if he—"
"What?" asked Innis, as the young millionaire paused.
"Oh, nothing," was the answer. "I just thought of something, but it's too preposterous to mention. Say, Mr. Vardon, when do you expect our engine?"
"Oh, in about a week now. I won't be ready for it before then. We can give it a try-out on the blocks before we mount it, to see if it develops enough speed and power. But have you made your official entry for the prize yet?"