“No, no,” demurred Worthington. “I’m all right now. No more air sailing for me for a time, though, I fancy. Say, Dashaway!”
In a spurt of excitement Worthington sat up, and his eyes glowed as he fixed his glance on Dave.
“I was in the lead,” he resumed.
“I saw you was.”
“Why can’t you——”
“Continue the race?” supplemented Dave.
“Yes.”
“Shall I?”
“Don’t lose a moment. She’s the best and fastest machine in the race. She’s done 460 miles in 8: 17: 30. There’s 18 gallons of gasoline aboard and five of lubricating oil.”
“I know all about it—the route marked out, too,” said Dave.