e motor.

Then when a couple of days had elapsed, though of course this time was
not counted any more than in the case of Dick, another start was made.
The Larabee, as Uncle Ezra had called his craft, seemed to do better,
and at times she showed a spurt of speed that amazed even Larson
himself. They passed several who had started ahead of them.

"We're sure to get that prize!" he exulted.

"Well, I cal'alate if we don't there'll be trouble," declared Uncle
Ezra, grimly.

Then they had run into the storm, as had Dick's craft, and several
other competing ones, and Larson, the army man and Uncle Ezra were in
great difficulties. But they forced their machine on.

Of course Dick and his friends knew nothing of this at the time, as
several hundred miles then separated the two airships.

Onward and upward went the Abaris. Now and then she seemed to gain on
the wind, but it was a hard struggle.

"I think we're going to do it, though," declared Dick, as he went about
with the aviator, looking at and testing the various pieces of
machinery. "Our speed has gone up a little, and the wind pressure
seems less."

"It is; a little," agreed Mr. Vardon. "But what is worrying me is that
we'll have a lot of lost time and distance to make up when we get out
of this storm. Still, I suppose it can't be helped."

"Indeed not. We're lucky as it is," admitted the young millionaire.
"But I'm going to get Innis and make some coffee. I think it will do
us all good."

The electric stove was soon aglow, and a little later the aromatic odor
of coffee pervaded the cabin of the airship. Some sandwiches were also
made.

And thus, while the craft was fighting her way through the gale, those
aboard ate a midnight lunch, with as good appetites as though they were
on solid ground. For, in spite of the fact that they were in the midst
of danger, they were fairly comfortable. True the aircraft was tilted
upward, for she was still climbing on a steep slant, but they had
gotten used to this. The gyroscope stabilizer prevented any rolling
from side to side.

"Maybe Grit is hungry, and that's what's bothering him," said Dick, as
he tossed the dog a bit of canned chicken. But though the animal was
usually very fond of this delicacy, he now refused it.

"That's queer," mused Dick. "I can't understand that. Something
surely must be wrong. I hope he isn't going to be sick."

"Had we better go any higher?" asked Innis, at the wheel, as