Round swung the "Meteor" till her bows pointed straight for the object of her pursuit. Durango and his two companions, ignorant of the fact that they were being followed, were possibly contemplating a welcome rest on neutral ground, when one of the Valderians caught sight of their arch-enemy bearing down upon them hand over fist.
The crew of the "Meteor" saw the Mexican literally push the helmsman aside and grip the steering-wheel. The aerial boat turned almost as rapidly as a racing yacht, and made, not for the coast, but due west towards the wide Pacific.
Down plunged the sun—a red orb in a ruddy sky. Night was about to fall upon the scene of the desperate race between the airship and her prey.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE THUNDERSTORM.
"WHERE's he making for?" asked the doctor.
Vaughan Whittinghame paid no apparent heed to the question. His eyes seemed riveted upon the small dark object against the crimson glow of the brief tropical sunset.
It was Dacres who answered Hambrough's query.
"I believe he's making a dash for the Galapagos Islands," he replied. "It's a matter of six hundred and fifty odd miles."
"If the fellow had any sense he would keep on doubling," said Gerald. "Quick as we are that craft can turn like a top. It would be like a hare dodging a hound."