But the two army officers, and Dick, were football players, and they knew how to take a fall, so were not harmed. Fortunately they had been tossed out on a grassy part of the pen, and away from the muddy slough where the porkers were in the habit of wallowing. "Get out, you brutes!" cried Dick, striking at the pigs with a part of one of the pen roof boards. Then, with the army men to help him, he succeeded in driving the swine out of their way. This done, the aviators looked at one another and "took an account of stock." "Are you hurt?" asked the captain of Dick, grimly. "No, only bruised a bit. As the old lady said of the train that came to a sudden halt because of a collision, 'do you always land this way?'" "No, indeed!" exclaimed the captain, as he looked at the ruin of the shed, amid which the airship was. "This is my first accident of this kind. The lever of the vertical rudder snapped, and I couldn't control her. Luckily the roof was rotten, or we might have smashed everything." "As it is, nothing seems to be much damaged," said the lieutenant. "I wonder if we can fly back?" "It is doubtful," the captain answered. "We'll try and get her out, first." As they were climbing over the pile of broken boards to get a view of the aeroplane, an excited farmer came rushing out of a barn, a short distance away. "Hey, what do you fellers mean--smashing down out of the clouds, bustin' up my pig pen, and scatterin' 'em to the four winds?" he yelled. "I'll have th' law on you for this! I'll make you pay damages! You killed a lot of my pigs, I reckon!" "I don't see any dead ones," spoke the captain, calmly. "It was an accident." "That's what them autermobile fellers says when they run over my chickens," snarled the unpleasant farmer. "But they has t' pay for 'em all the same." "And we are willing to pay you anything in reason," said the Captain. "I don't believe we killed any of your pigs, however. But the shed was so rotten it was ready to fall down of itself, which was a good thing for us. How much do you want?" "Well, I want a hundred dollars--that's what I want." "The shed, when new, wasn't worth a quarter of that." "I don't care!" snapped the farmer. "That's my price. Some of my pigs may be lost for all I know, and pork's goin' t' be high this year. I want a hundred dollars, or you don't take your old shebang offen my premises. I'll hold it till you pay me." The army officers looked serious at this. Clearly the farmer had a right to damages, but a hundred dollars was excessive. "I'll give you fifty, cash," said Dick, as he pulled out a roll of bills. "Will that satisfy you?" The farmer's eyes gleamed at the sight of the money. And, as Dick looked at his companions, he caught a greedy glint in the eyes of Lieutenant Larson. "It's wuth a hundred; smashin' my shed, an' all the trouble you've caused me," grumbled the farmer. "But I'll take sixty."