"You've got me guessing," rejoined that slangy young person.
"Ask Peggy."
"No, I don't want to bother her now. She's got her hands full, I fancy."
The Golden Butterfly was swinging steadily onward above a sparkling sea. The slight haze perceptible from the land was not noticeable to the air voyagers. Below them a four-masted schooner was tacking in the light wind. Closer in shore lay several grim looking battleships and cruisers. In their leaden colored "war paint" they looked menacing and bulldoggish.
Far off, a mere speck, could be seen a dim and indistinct object pointing upward from the cape like a finger. They guessed it was the light for which they were aiming. Peggy's last glance at the compass had confirmed this guess.
Jimsy looked about him. About a quarter of a mile off, and slightly ahead was the Cobweb. The silvery aeroplane was rushing through the atmosphere at a great rate. But profiting by Mortlake's experience, Fanning was evidently not speeding the 'plane to its fullest capacity.
On the other side was a large red biplane flying steadily and keeping about level with the Golden Butterfly. Far behind lagged a monoplane. The other contestants had dropped out of the race. They were so manifestly out of it that their drivers did not care to continue.
A glance at the speedometer showed Peggy's two passengers that they were reeling off fifty-five miles an hour. The Cobweb was doing slightly better.
"We should round the light in a few minutes now," said Jimsy scrutinizing his watch anxiously.
"Will they report us?" asked Jess.