The repairs were not difficult to make; the belt was cut and fastened again with a leather lace borrowed from the police "chief's" shoe, and the careful use of a wrench and other tools out of their kit finally fixed the loose coupling. But these operations had consumed unlooked-for valuable time, and when they had had breakfast with their friends and were ready at last to go, they found that the watch of their host indicated the hour of nine. Setting their own watches to this local time, as had been their custom in all towns upon arriving or leaving, our flyers once more thanked their entertainers for courtesies extended, wished them good-bye, and got in their machine. As they taxied swiftly down the course, the rush of wind from the big propeller sent more than one Ecuadorean's wide-brimmed hat flying from his head, and to the enjoyment of all, a native who was perched precariously upon an up-ended cask was blown heels-over-head backwards. No sooner had they straightened out upon their northeasterly course than Bob sat down to his instruments and called up the Panama wireless station. In about ten minutes he got it, and told of their position and the accident to the _Clarion_. They all knew that when the news of this catastrophe reached the American newspapers there would be the greatest excitement, and that Mr. Wrenn would not only be grievously disappointed but horrified at the fate of the three members of his crew. They now had just four hours in which to reach their goal. That meant they must travel at an average rate of better than 160 miles an hour. Since they had gone considerably faster than this when the occasion had warranted it in the past, they felt no anxieties now. John, who was at the throttle, opened the Sky-Bird up to 165, and at this gait they skimmed swiftly along over the blue-green waters of the big Pacific. "This speed ought to bring us in by twelve-thirty--a good half-hour ahead of our limit,--so there's no need of rushing matters," said John, to which sentiment his comrades agreed. By eleven o'clock all were keenly on the look-out. Each flyer coveted the honor of being the first one to see the coastline of Central America, the resting-place of Panama. Paul, with the binoculars to his eyes, was the one to win. It was just exactly 11:25 when he shouted in true mariner's style: "Land ho, my hearties!" Taking the glass, one by one his comrades gladly echoed the announcement. But suddenly Bob's face turned chalky. "Jiminy, fellows," he cried, "what boneheads we are! We have been figuring on San Cristobal time all the while. Panama's close to an hour ahead!" "And we've only got thirty-five minutes in which to land!" said Tom. "Huckleberry pie! Boneheads we are! Boneheads, boneheads! I repeat it--boneheads, boneheads! It's all off now." Tom actually wrung his hands in his misery, and the others felt just about as humiliated and disgusted with themselves.