It was seen to be picked up and
while Dick and his friends circled about above the aviation grounds
their note was read. An answer was hastily prepared to be sent up
as Lieutenant McBride had suggested.
Meanwhile a number of the other aeroplanes whizzed past, close to
Dick's.
"I hope they don't come so close that they'll collide with us,"
murmured the young millionaire. But the pilots were skillful. They
tried to shout what were probably congratulations, or questions, at
the trans-continental party, but the motors of the small biplanes
made such a racket it was impossible to hear.
"Here come the balloons!" cried Dick, as he saw a group tied
together floating upward. "Now to get them! You'd better handle
her, Mr. Vardon."
"No, you do it, Dick. I'll stand out on deck and try to grab them."
"We can all reach from windows," suggested Paul, for there were
windows in the cabin.
Dick was so successful in maneuvering his craft that Mr. Vardon had
no trouble at all in catching the message-carrying toy balloons.
The note was brief. It conveyed the greeting of the aero-club, and
stated that a number of competing craft were on their way west.
"The Larabee leads, according to last reports," read Innis.
"That must be Uncle Ezra's machine," murmured Dick. "He's right
after us. Well, we'd better get on our course again."
"I think so," agreed Mr. Vardon. The Abaris was sent in a Westerly
direction once more, and those aboard settled down to what they
hoped would be the last "lap" of the big race.
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