“The way Hal and I figured it out, sir, the ‘Benson’ is really the faster boat.  But the Rhinds people may have been overheating their engines—­slightly, systematically, and using a lot of water to cool the metal.  Now, if that is the case, they may be doing their best at forced speed.  Hal and I determined, if we didn’t lose more than a quarter of a mile an hour, we’d rather let the ‘Zelda’ keep the lead, and go on slowly overheating her engines.  But now, in the last hour and a half of the race, Hal is up to the same trick.  If that has been the case with the ‘Zelda,’ and they now, at this late hour, go to any greater lengths in overheating, they’re likely to blow the engines out of their hull.  But we can stand the present speed, with its gradual overheating, up to the finish time for the race.  If both boats keep going at the speed they’re using now, and neither has an accident, we stand to come in half a mile in the lead.”

“Good strategy, that, Jack!” cried Jacob Farnum, his eyes gleaming.  “To let the other fellow take the risk of overheating his machinery all day, while we do it only in the last part of the race.  My boy, I’m hopeful we may win yet.”

“So am I, sir,” muttered Benson.  “Still, there’s the risk that John C. Rhinds may have something more up his sleeve.  We’ll know before long, anyway.”

By twenty minutes past four the “Benson” was almost close enough to the other submarine to throw a biscuit across the intervening space, had any on board the Pollard craft been inclined that way.

John C. Rhinds stood by the starboard rail of his own craft, regarding the rival with anxious eyes.  But Jack knew the rascal to be so wily that the look of anxiety might be feigned.

Up, nearer and nearer!  Jack was moving to the starboard of the “Zelda,” as the “Oakland” was on that same side of the course.

“The old wretch isn’t shouting out anything about fair play and good luck to us, now,” muttered Jack, vengefully, as, at half-past four, the two craft ran neck and neck, but little over a hundred yards apart.

Then the “Benson” began to forge ahead.  The “Zelda” still hung on, but she was plainly in second place.

David Pollard hurried below, to see what he could do to help Hal Hastings in this supreme crisis.

“We’re leaving her right behind,” rang Jack Benson’s voice, exultantly.  “The ‘Zelda’s’ old speed was her best, even at overheating.  If nothing happens, now, we’ll go in first!”

Interest, now, led those on the “Benson’s” deck aft.  Eph, being at the wheel, could be trusted not to look around, but to keep his eyes straight on the gunboat mark ahead.

John C. Rhinds could be seen, hanging limply over the rail of the “Zelda,” his straining vision turned ahead.  But he was being left more and more to the rear.

Boom!  The sound came suddenly over the water, at last.  All hands aft on the “Benson” ran forward, to find the “Oakland” swinging around so that her bow pointed the path for the leading submarine.