It was shortly after noon. A hasty meal had been served. In about two hours more, if all went well, the race would be over. The twenty days were not quite up. Tom Swift still had a chance to win the twenty thousand dollars for Mr. Swift. Would he also win the prize money?
Suddenly, through the mist in front, Ned caught sight of another plane, traveling in the same direction as the Air Monarch.
“Look, Tom!” the financial manager cried.
Tom leveled a glass at the other craft.
“It’s the Red Arrow!” he yelled. “And she’s limping. We’ve got a chance to beat her! Turn on the super-gas. We’ve got just about enough to finish the race!”
In an instant the powerful new gas Tom had evolved was turned on, and at once the improvement in the pace of the Air Monarch was noted. Tom had been saving his precious fuel for just such an emergency as this. He gave the Red Arrow a wide berth in passing her, lest perhaps Kilborn, in his rage at seeing himself about to be beaten, might try to ram Tom’s craft. Then the mist closed in again and it is probable that those on the Red Arrow did not know the Air Monarch was passing, unless they heard the throb of her propellers.
On and on rushed Tom Swift and his friends. One hour passed. In less than sixty minutes they would be in the neighborhood of New York City and could glide out to the Long Island landing field.
“If this mist would only let up!” complained Tom. “We may over run the field in the fog!”
Passing Pittsburgh and other cities, messages had been dropped, to tell the committee in charge of the race the Air Monarch’s progress and let them know the approximate time she would arrive. He also hoped his father, and perhaps Mary, would be on the field to greet him.
Suddenly the mist cleared away and Ned, looking down, saw the tall and jagged skyline of New York’s big buildings.