“Why, what is the trouble here?” inquired the young airman.
“That’s the trouble,” growled the old man, pointing to a row of upset bee hives and a break in the field fence beyond. “Do you see that horse over there making for the woods? Well, that’s old Snorter, my primest animal. This here young fellow comes down in his b’loon and scares the hoss nigh into fits.”
“Ran out of gasoline and a bolt out of gear,” explained the pilot of number seven.
“You have no right dropping into my yard!” shouted the farmer, wrathfully. “It’s trespassing.”
“That’s right,” drawled the biggest of his sons. “I’m a deputy of the sheriff in this county. You have violated the law. I shall have to take you to Millville to court to answer in an action of wilful trespass.”
“Yes, and I shall insist that you be held in a civil suit for damages,” declared another of the sons.
Young Pierce cast a hopeless look at his machine and anxiously at Dave. The latter took in the situation at a glance.
“See here, mister,” he said to the old farmer; “we are desperately sorry that this has happened.”
“Yah!” sneered the shrewd old schemer—“money talks.”
“How much?” demanded our hero, without hesitation.
“Well, them bees is a special brood. The hives and the fence ain’t much, but there’s old Snorter. He may wander away and get lost; he may fall into some of those lime pits beyond the timber and get hurt. Then again, he’s so frightened he’ll probably run away at the least scare after this. One hundred dollars, I told this young man here.”
“But I haven’t got it,” cried Pierce. “I offered to give you an order on Washington, and you won’t take it.”
“Not I,” retorted the hard-fisted old fellow. “Cash down on the nail head.”
“I ran short at Savannah,” explained Pierce to Dave. “I fancied I could get through with the twenty dollars I had left, being so near home.”
Dave took out his pocket book. The old farmer’s eyes glistened as our hero handed him five crisp twenty-dollar banknotes.
“Now then, Pierce,” spoke the young airman, “that’s settled. What’s the trouble with your machine?”
It did not take the expert Dave long to find out. Within half an hour he had the faulty gear sound as ever. The _Comet_ had a full supply of gasoline. A transfer of some of it was made to the tanks aboard number seven.