“Yes, I agreed to all your terms, and I want to add one of my own. That part of the prize money be devoted to charity. The concern I represent doesn’t need the cash. It is only going in to encourage others. So I would stipulate that part of the prize, which we expect to win, must go to charity.”
“If you win the hundred thousand, Mr. Kilborn,” stated Mr. Elliot, the managing editor of the Illustrated Star, “you may give it all to charity if you wish. But we cannot now, at this late hour, stipulate that. The prize will be paid in cash to the winner, and he may do as he pleases with it. Now if you will come out with the others we will sign the final papers.”
“Kilborn!” muttered Tom to Bob Denman. “Is that Dan Kilborn of the Red Arrow concern?”
“That’s the bird,” assented Bob. “He’s been fussing around here all morning, telling what a wonderful new hydroplane he has. Named after the company—Red Arrow. He says he’s going to burn up distance with it.”
“Let him try,” returned Tom, and then he caught a nod from the boastful Kilborn, whom he knew slightly.
“I’d like to ask him how much his tool Hussy told after his midnight visit to my shop,” thought Tom. But he did not want to start any unpleasant altercations in the newspaper office.
Dan Kilborn was an ace of the World War and had done well in France and had proved himself a brave man. After the end of the conflict he had gone into air racing, and since affiliating himself with the Red Arrow concern there were ugly stories going around that he was not fair to other contestants in sky races. Several other pilots had more or less openly accused Kilborn of banking so close to them as to endanger their planes. But Kilborn only laughed this off.
“If he tries any trick with me,” muttered Tom, “I’ll show him where he can get off, and I won’t provide a parachute, either!”
The terms of the contest were explained by Mr. Elliot, all present agreed to them and the final signatures were affixed. The start was to be made that day a week, from a large field in Long Island, whence all must start at once. From that field the air machines would take off, and those who were to cover the first leg of their journey in water craft must leave the field in autos which would convey them to the docks where their boats or hydroplanes were moored.
“Time will be counted as soon as the cannon is fired on the starting field,” said Mr. Elliot. “Contestants can travel in any way they choose, and the one back on the field in the shortest actual time, with proof that he has really circled the globe, will win. Now then, gentlemen, I wish you all the best of luck.”