The boys had to admit that this might be so, but in their hearts they hoped that it was not the case. For they did want the honor of winning at least one prize, while Bob made no secret of his desire to see both captured.
As night settled down, with the Comet some distance ahead of her nearest rival, there sprang up a stiff wind.
“That’s not what we want,” observed Mr. Glassford with a dubious shake of his head.
“Why?” asked Ned.
“Because it’s forcing us to the west again. I don’t see how we can reach New Orleans at this rate.”
On and on they sped, over mountains and valleys—on and on through the silent night. Ned, Bob and Jerry took turns in the steering tower, so Mr. Glassford could get some rest. On and on rushed the big motor ship, her propellers ceaselessly revolving, and pulling her farther and farther on her course. Only the wind was still contrary, and was forcing them too much to the west.
It was just getting daylight when Jerry awoke with a start. There was a peculiar odor in the air about them. He sniffed vigorously for a second or two, and then leaping from his berth he aroused Mr. Glassford.
“I think something has happened,” he said as quietly as he could. “It smells as if the gas was escaping.”
“It is!” cried the inventor, as he noticed the peculiar odor. “There is a leak in the gas bag. We must stop it. I hope it is not a large one.”