"Don't mind about me," replied Lieutenant Wilson, gamely. "If you can send me help, do so, but don't delay here. Go on and win the race. You have the best chance, I believe." "We don't go on until we see you cared for," spoke Dick. "We would take you all with us, only it might endanger you." "Well, I wish you'd take me!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra, limping about. "I want to get back home. Nephew Richard, I'm sorry I tried to beat you in this race." "That's all right, Uncle Ezra," answered the young millionaire. "You had as good a right to try for the prize as I did." "But I want to say I didn't have no hand in trying to butt into you," went on Mr. Larabee. "It was all that--that unfortunate man's idea," he added more softly, as he gazed at Larson who was still unconscious. "Dick, will you forgive me, and shake hands?" "Surely, Uncle Ezra," and as their hands met, Grit, who had been eyeing Mr. Larabee narrowly, uttered a joyful bark, and actually wagged his tail at Uncle Ezra. "Grit, you shake hands, too," ordered Dick, and though Uncle Ezra was a little diffident at first, he grasped the extended paw of the bulldog. They were friends for the first time. "We could take Uncle Ezra in the airship," said Paul, after a pause, "and if we could only send out a call for help for Lieutenant Wilson and Larson, they would be looked after." "There's an army post not far from here," spoke Wilson. "If you could make a trip there--" "We'd have to land again, to summon aid, and this is the last stop we are allowed in the race," said Mr. Vardon. "I don't see how--" "Your wireless!" interrupted Lieutenant McBride. "We can send out a call to the army post by that--if they have a wireless station." "They have," answered Lieutenant Wilson, as his fellow officer looked at him. "If you will summon aid from there, we will be well taken care of." "Good!" cried Dick. "That problem is solved." The wireless apparatus was brought out, the small balloon inflated, and it carried aloft the aerials. Then, while the call for aid was being sent out, Lieutenants Wilson and Larson were made as comfortable as possible, and some of Uncle Ezra's scratches and bruises were looked after. "No more airships for me," he said bitterly, though with a chastened spirit. "I'm going to stick to farming, and my woolen mill. Just think of it--over eleven thousand dollars in that pile of--junk!" and he shook his head sadly at the wreck of his airship. "We'll take you on to San Francisco with us, if you like," said Dick. "You can see us win the race--if we can," he added. "You still have an excellent chance," said Lieutenant McBride. "My advice to you would be to remain here a few days to rest up and make sure all your machinery is in good order. The time will not count against you. By that time the injured ones will be cared for. Then you can go on again and complete the course. You have enough oil and gasolene, have you not?"