s gleaming. "To
let the other fellow take the risk of overheating his machinery all day,
while we do it only in the last part of the race. My boy, I'm hopeful
we may win yet."

"So am I, sir," muttered Benson. "Still, there's the risk that John C.
Rhinds may have something more up his sleeve. We'll know before long,
anyway."

By twenty minutes past four the "Benson" was almost close enough to the
other submarine to throw a biscuit across the intervening space, had
any on board the Pollard craft been inclined that way.

John C. Rhinds stood by the starboard rail of his own craft, regarding
the rival with anxious eyes. But Jack knew the rascal to be so wily
that the look of anxiety might be feigned.

Up, nearer and nearer! Jack was moving to the starboard of the "Zelda,"
as the "Oakland" was on that same side of the course.

"The old wretch isn't shouting out anything about fair play and good
luck to us, now," muttered Jack, vengefully, as, at half-past four, the
two craft ran neck and neck, but little over a hundred yards apart.

Then the "Benson" began to forge ahead. The "Zelda" still hung on, but
she was plainly in second place.

David Pollard hurried below, to see what he could do to help Hal Hastings
in this supreme crisis.

"We're leaving her right behind," rang Jack Benson's voice, exultantly.
"The 'Zelda's' old speed was her best, even at overheating. If nothing
happens, now, we'll go in first!"

Interest, now, led those on the "Benson's" deck aft. Eph, being at the
wheel, could be trusted not to look around, but to keep his eyes straight
on the gunboat mark ahead.

John C. Rhinds could be seen, hanging limply over the rail of the
"Zelda," his straining vision turned ahead. But he was being left more
and more to the rear.

Boom! The sound came suddenly over the water, at last. All hands aft
on the "Benson" ran forward, to find the "Oakland" swinging around so
that her bow pointed the path for the leading submarine.

Eph remained at the wheel, steering steadily. He carried the "Benson"
past the gunboat's bow, some seventy yards away. A cheer went up from
the sailors crowding forward on the gunboat's spar deck. The cheer
would have sounded, no matter which submarine had won.

Then Eph cut a wide circle, coming back close to the gunboat.

"You win!" shouted an officer at the "Oakland's" rail.

"Of course," nodded Lieutenant Danvers, "But what distance?"

"The board allows you half