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!"