Frank had judged wisely.
“We are on a direct line with the top, don’t you think?” he asked presently.
“As near as I can say, we are,” replied the other, as the monoplane veered just a trifle when a gust of wind, coming from beyond the peak, met her, and Frank manipulated his aerial steed after a clever fashion he had inaugurated.
“If anything, a little higher,” continued Frank.
“Yes, that’s a fact,” assented Andy, with another keen look.
“That’s what I wanted. Sure you’ve got that flag handy, are you?” went on the pilot of the speeding monoplane.
“Just you get there, and you’ll see how soon I jump out and wave it!” declared Andy, with a vim.
Frank looked up.
The biplane still led, though by a narrow margin. At the same time, if the relative distance were maintained to the close of the race, Puss and Sandy would be able to land on the level plateau of the mountain top a few seconds before them, and that would win out.
And Frank had now to decide in his active mind whether the vital second had not arrived when he meant to release the little extra speed he had been so jealously husbanding ever since they started.