And then something happened that nearly put Dick out of the race.
His motor suddenly stopped, and all efforts to start it proved
futile.
"We've got to go down!" cried our hero, and within sight of the
goal, too! This is fierce!"
"What's the trouble?" asked Larry.
"Not a drop of gasolene left!" said Mr. Vardon, with a tragic
gesture, as he made an examination. "There's a leak in the tank.
We haven't a drop left. The vibration must have opened a seam and
we've been spilling our fuel as we went along."
"There goes the other airship!" cried Innis, as the big biplane
flashed by them. They had now crossed Oakland and the bay.
"And the Presido Park is in sight!" yelled Paul, pointing to a big
field, now black with people, for the coming of Dick had been
flashed all over San Francisco and Oakland.
"We can never make it," the young millionaire murmured. "We'll have
to volplane down, but we can't reach the park. Oh, for a gallon of
gasolene! One gallon would do!"
"What's that!" cried Uncle Ezra, coming from his bunk room. "What
do you want of gasolene?"
"To complete the trip," cried Dick. "Ours is all gone! A gallon
would do."
"Then, by hickory, you shall have it!" suddenly cried Mr. Larabee.
"Where can you get it?" demanded Dick. "There isn't a drop aboard!
"Oh, yes there is!" his uncle answered. "Here it is," and he
brought from his room a square, gallon can.
"Great Scott!" cried Dick, as he took it and hurried with it toward
the empty tank.
Pages:
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239