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Updated: June 15, 2025
"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?"
"That's quite a pile of money to talk about in the dark," and to the horror of Aunt Samantha she saw, a little later, the sun shamelessly streaming in on her carpet that had only been treated to such indignities on the occasions of a funeral, or something like that. The parlor of the Dankville house was like a tomb in this respect.
You can go in your airship, if you like, and give him a surprise." "No, I think I'll go in the auto. Mr. Vardon is making a change in the motor, and it isn't in shape to run today. I'll take the boys over to Dankville in the small car." A little later Dick and his chums were on their way to Uncle Ezra's.
At any rate preparations for building the craft, in an unused part of Uncle Ezra's woolen mill at Dankville, went on apace. I say apace, and yet I must change that. Uncle Ezra, with his usual "closeness" regarding money, rather hampered Larson's plans. "What do you reckon an airship ought to cost?" Mr. Larabee had asked when he first decided he would undertake it.
"Yes, I was sorry, more than once, that I ever left Dankville," Uncle Ezra said, "but Larson wouldn't let me stop. He kept right on. I'm sure he was crazy." On and on rushed the Abaris. She was racing against time now, and every minute and mile counted.
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