“The Ann can beat any aeroplane that was ever built!” replied Mr. Havens. “She was built for a record-breaker.”
To tell the truth, the aviator was not exactly pleased at the idea of remaining alone in the camp while the two engaged in the race, but the sporting strain was strong in the man’s blood, and he was proud of his matchless machine, so he consented, principally because he wanted the Ann to win in a race which promised to be a hot one!
“I wish the other machines would keep in sight so I could watch the struggle,” he said as Carl sprang toward the Ann.
“Do you know,” the Englishman observed, “I rather like the spirit of the lad!”
“He’s all right,” replied the millionaire. “But,” he added, “I didn’t think you had the courage to get into such a game.”
“To tell you the truth,” DuBois replied, “I was tolerably well frightened during my ride here, but I think I can now trust myself in any place that lad is willing to go.”
Mr. Havens saw the Ann rise swiftly into the air; rise to a height which must have chilled the blood of those on board, and then flash off to the south. The two aeroplanes were still in view although their lights showed dimly.
From his position in the tent the aviator could not determine whether or not the Louise was gaining. He saw that the great light of the Ann was rapidly closing the gap between the nearest lamp and herself, and had no doubt of the outcome of the race.
While he gazed one of the lights ahead dropped. Without knowing which machine had fallen, he crept to a corner of the tent on his hands and knees and brought out a night glass.