m, even with
megaphones, wig-wagging won't do, and we're not going to land."

"I've asked them to send up a bunch of toy balloons, carrying any
message they can send us," the lieutenant said. "I think we can
manipulate our craft so as to grab some of the balloons as they float
upward. I've seen it done."

Little time was lost over this. The message was dropped down in one of
Larry's leather cylinders. It was seen to be picked up and while Dick
and his friends circled about above the aviation grounds their note was
read. An answer was hastily prepared to be sent up as Lieutenant
McBride had suggested.

Meanwhile a number of the other aeroplanes whizzed past, close to
Dick's.

"I hope they don't come so close that they'll collide with us,"
murmured the young millionaire. But the pilots were skillful. They
tried to shout what were probably congratulations, or questions, at the
trans-continental party, but the motors of the small biplanes made such
a racket it was impossible to hear.

"Here come the balloons!" cried Dick, as he saw a group tied together
floating upward. "Now to get them! You'd better handle her, Mr.
Vardon."

"No, you do it, Dick. I'll stand out on deck and try to grab them."

"We can all reach from windows," suggested Paul, for there were windows
in the cabin.

Dick was so successful in maneuvering his craft that Mr. Vardon had no
trouble at all in catching the message-carrying toy balloons. The note
was brief. It conveyed the greeting of the aero-club, and stated that
a number of competing craft were on their way west.

"The Larabee leads, according to last reports," read Innis.

"That must be Uncle Ezra's machine," murmured Dick. "He's right after
us. Well, we'd better get on our course again."

"I think so," agreed Mr. Vardon. The Abaris was sent in a Westerly
direction once more, and those aboard settled down to what they hoped
would be the last "lap" of the big race.

But matters were not destined to be as easy and comfortable as they
hoped for. Soon after supper that night the wind sprang up. It
increased in violence until, at ten o'clock, there was a howling gale,
through which the airship had to fight her way with almost all her
available power.

"Some wind!" cried Dick, when he went on duty, and, glancing at the
gage noted it to be blowing at seventy miles an hour.

"Luckily it isn't altogether dead against us," said Mr. Vardon. "As it
is, though, it's cutting dow