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I see a chance to make one or two changes though, that will make her better." "Does that mean er more money?" was Uncle Ezra's anxious question. "Well, some, yes." "Not another cent!" burst out the crabbed old man. "I won't spend another cent on her. I've sunk enough money in the old shebang." Larson did not answer.
She had taken that Larson girl and, by the plain force of personal dominance, made her talk right. Well, why? That was the question. Who was she anyway? Where had she come from? Who was "the only person who really mattered" to her the person who wasn't a pussy-cat? He had tried hard to convince himself that these were all professional questions.
"No," said Patricia, "except perhaps Jumbo Larson," she added hopefully. "The Lord was merciful to this family when he made you a girl, Patricia," said her father. "But, Daddy, it was a wonderful game." Quite breathlessly, she went once more over the outstanding features of the play. "Sounds rather bloody, I must say," said her father, doubtfully.
"But she'll work easier up a little more." "No it it's too far to fall!" said Mr. Larabee, and he could not keep his voice from trembling. Really, though, he stood it bravely, though probably the thought of all the money he had invested in the craft, as well as the prize he was after, buoyed up his spirits. "How do you like it?" asked Larson, when they had circled around over Mr.
The instant Jack Cornwall saw those eyes, he knew that they could see almost unseeable things. But Matt Larson was introducing them. "Fox-Foot," he said, turning to the Indian, "here is Jack, my own sister's son. He has my confidence. He will know all that I know. You may trust him with everything. Jack, old man, this Chippewa boy, Fox-Foot, is my friend and our guide.
He had gotten off in fair weather, and under good circumstances, but engine trouble developed after the first few hours, and, while he and Larson, with the army man, did not have to come down, they could only fly at slow speed. "I don't know what's the matter with the thing," said Larson. "I'm afraid we'll have to use even a different carburetor." "What! And spend more money!" cried Uncle Ezra.
Perry Larson's whole self had become suddenly alert. "In the field 'Way over there. And somebody " "The cornfield! Jingo! Boy, you don't mean you touched THAT crow?" "Well, he wouldn't let me TOUCH him," half-apologized David. "He was so afraid, you see. Why, I had to put my blouse over his head before he'd let me cut him loose at all." "Cut him loose!" Perry Larson sprang to his feet.
"But why did you make the change at all?" "I er I knew Larson liked this hammer better. The handle just suits him." "That is so," replied Larson blandly. "We will try the contest over again," said Captain Putnam. "And every contestant will use the hammer marked A." "I don't like the hammer marked A," grumbled Larson. "I would just as lief use the hammer marked B," said Tom quickly.
Then they had run into the storm, as had Dick's craft, and several other competing ones, and Larson, the army man and Uncle Ezra were in great difficulties. But they forced their machine on. Of course Dick and his friends knew nothing of this at the time, as several hundred miles then separated the two airships. Onward and upward went the Abaris.
He was in the kitchen when, just before dinner, Perry Larson came into the room with a worried frown on his face. "Mis' Holly, would ye mind just steppin' to the side door? There's a woman an' a little boy there, an' somethin' ails 'em. She can't talk English, an' I'm blest if I can make head nor tail out of the lingo she DOES talk. But maybe you can." "Why, Perry, I don't know " began Mrs. Holly.
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