n. I'm
sure he was crazy."

On and on rushed the Abaris. She was racing against time now, and
every minute and mile counted. While down on the ground, helping save
Uncle Ezra, Dick had, by wireless, communicated with the army
authorities in San Francisco, telling them he was coming on the last
stage, and asking that a landing-place be designated. This was done,
Presido Park Reservation, on the outskirts of the city being named as
the spot where the craft could officially come down.

"We'll soon be there," remarked Dick, who was at the wheel. It was
afternoon, and by computation they were not more than ninety miles from
their goal.

"See anything of any other craft?" asked Paul of his chum.

"Take a look, Innis," suggested the young millionaire. "We might get a
race at the last minute."

Innis swept the horizon with the glasses.

"There's something coming behind us," he said. "I can't tell whether
it's a big bird, or an airship."

A little later, however, the speck in the blue sky was made out to be a
big biplane, rushing onward.

"They're probably trying for the prize," said Dick. "Of course we
don't know anything about their time and stops, but, just the same, I'm
going to beat her in, if I can. We'll run the motor under forced
speed, Mr. Vardon, and feed her heated gasolene."

"That's the idea!" cried the aviator. "That ought to help some."

The motor was so adjusted as to take heated gasolene, the liquid
vaporizing and exploding better than when cold. The Abaris rushed on
at increased speed.

But so, also, came on behind her the other airship. As Dick had said,
that craft might have no chance, having used up more than her limit of
stops, or having consumed more elapsed time than had he. But, for all
that, he was taking no chances.

The other craft was a swift one. That was easily seen as it slowly
crept up on Dick. The speed of each was terrific. The gages showed
ninety-five miles an hour for the Abaris. At that rate the city of
Oakland, just across the bay from San Francisco, was soon sighted.

And then something happened that nearly put Dick out of the race. His
motor suddenly stopped, and all efforts to start it proved futile.

"We've got to go down!" cried our hero, "and within sight of the goal,
too! This is fierce!"

"What's the trouble?" asked Larry.

"Not a drop of gasolene left!" said Mr. Vardon, with a tragic gesture,
as he made an examination. "There's a leak in the