re. Falling diagonally, they crossed
the lower end of New York Bay toward Long Island. Eddy had to take a
ferry boat, next, to chase the runaways. He crossed to New York and took
the elevated railroad to Brooklyn. An hour later, he caught sight of the
kites again. One of the groups had reached the ground and dragged. That
sent the other six up in the air again. They flew over the whole of
Brooklyn and fell again, finally entangling themselves in a telephone
wire. When the owner finally reached them, after a chase of thirty
miles, in two States, three of the kites, still undamaged, were flying
safely in the air, never having come to ground at all."

"I hope mine aren't smashed," Tom said eagerly. The story had given him
hopes.

On the boys pounded. Fred was at the end of his strength. Ross, himself,
was almost done out, but he felt that, as head of the League, he ought
to go on. Seeing, however, that the editor-in-chief might really hurt
himself unless he gave in, Ross decided to stop. He knew that Fred would
give up if he did.

"I've had enough, Fred," he said at last. "Let the other three go ahead.
We can't hope to beat Monroe."

The editor stopped, willingly enough. He looked a little longingly at
the other three, as they ran on.

"I'd have liked to be there, so as to write it up," he announced
wistfully.

"You can't be everywhere, Fred," Ross answered, and the two boys turned
homewards.

Monroe, Bob, and Tom, with Monroe leading, swung on their way. Twenty
minutes more passed. Tom's heart was beating like a trip-hammer and
there was a drawn look about his face which showed that he was nearly
done. Bob, who had not uttered a word since he first saw the kite, and
who had not varied his pace by a fraction since he began, was jogging
along as though he were a machine. Monroe still ran springily and with
the jauntiness which betokened the practised runner.

Then, suddenly, the Forecaster pointed ahead.

"There's something caught in that tree!" he said.

In another minute the kite wire could be seen. It had hooked its coils
into a bale of barbed wire, and in trying to lift this had entangled the
bale in the branches.

As though he were starting for a hundred yard dash, Monroe sped ahead.
Grimly, Bob tried to catch up to him, but it was like a bull-dog chasing
a deer. Tom, his face in the tense grin of exhaustion, struggled
bravely, but dropped behind step by step.

Monroe was within fifty feet of the tree w