"Abaris, if you will look in the back of your dictionary, you will note was a Scythian priest of Apollo," said Innis, with a patronizing air at his display of knowledge. "He is said to have ridden through the air on an arrow. Isn't that a good name for your craft, Dick?" "It sure is. I'll christen her Abaris as soon as she's ready to launch. Good idea, Innis." "Oh, I'm full of 'em," boasted the cadet, strutting about. "You're full of conceit--that's what you are," laughed Paul. Suddenly there came a menacing growl from Grit, who was outside the airship shed, and Dick called a warning. "Who's there?" he asked, thinking it might be a stranger. A rasping voice answered: "It's me! Are you there, Nephew Richard? I went all through the house, but nobody seemed to be home." "It's Uncle Ezra!" whispered Dick, making a pretense to faint. "I've come to pay you a little visit," went on the crabbed old miser. "Where's your pa?" "Why, he's gone to New York." "Ha! Another sinful and useless waste of money! I never did see the beat!" "He had to go, on business," answered Dick. "Humph! Couldn't he write? A two cent stamp is a heap sight cheaper than an excursion ticket to New York. But Mortimer never did know the value of money," sighed Uncle Ezra. Grit growled again. "Nephew Richard, if your dog bites me I'll make you pay the doctor bills," warned Mr. Ezra Larabee. "Here, Grit! Quiet!" cried Dick, and the animal came inside, looking very much disgusted. Uncle Ezra looked in at the door of the shed, and saw the outlines of the airship. "What foolishness is this?" he asked, seeming to take it for granted that all Dick did was foolish. "It's my new airship," answered the young millionaire. "An airship! Nephew Richard Hamilton! Do you mean to tell me that you are sinfully wasting money on such a thing as that--on something that will never go, and will only be a heap of junk?" and Uncle Ezra, of Dankville, looked as though his nephew were a fit subject for a lunatic asylum. CHAPTER X BUILDING THE AIRSHIP Grit growled in a deep, threatening voice, and Uncle Ezra looked around with startled suddenness. "I guess I'd better chain him up before I answer you," said Dick, grimly. "Here, old boy!" The bulldog came, unwillingly enough, and was made secure. "An--an airship!" gasped Uncle Ezra, as though he could not believe it. "An airship, Nephew Richard. It will never go. You might a good deal better take the money that you are so foolishly wasting, and put it in a savings bank. Or, I would sell you some stock in my woolen mill. That would pay you four per cent, at least." "But my airship is going to go," declared the young millionaire. "It's on the same model as one I've ridden in, and it's going to go. We're sure of it; aren't we, Mr. Vardon?" "Oh, it will GO all right," declared the aviator. "I'm sure of that. But I don't guarantee that you'll win the prize money."