Part 43 (1/2)

”There she is!” cried Tom. ”Let us head for her at once. They won't keep that light out long--just long enough to let that steamer go by.”

Martin Harris was already at the tiller, and soon the _Searchlight_ was thrown over and was again dipping her nose in the long ocean swells. The wind had died away only to freshen more than ever, and the chase now became a lively one.

The enemy seemed to know that the exposure of their light had given those on the _Searchlight_ the cue, and they were sailing as rapidly as all of their canvas permitted. But Harris was now handling his craft better than ever before, and slowly but surely the distance between the two craft was diminished, until the _Flyaway_ could be made out faintly even without a light.

”Don't lose her again,” said d.i.c.k. ”We must keep at it until we run them down completely.” And Harris promised to do his best.

It was now past midnight, and the police officers said they were tired out and dropped into the cabin to take a nap. d.i.c.k likewise remained below, trying to get up some circulation in the lamed arm.

”Can't you feel anything?” queried Tom.

”I think I can,” answered his big brother. ”Yes, yes, it's coming now!” he went on. ”Thank G.o.d!” and he suddenly raised the arm and bent the fingers of his hand. By daylight that member of his body was nearly as well as ever. But this experience was one which d.i.c.k has not forgotten to the present day.

Sam had bound up his burn with a rag saturated with oil and flour, and announced that he felt quite comfortable. ”But just let me get hold of those Baxters,” he added. ”I shan't stand on any ceremony with them.”

”I don't believe any of us will,” said Tom.

”But as anxious as I am to have this over, I would just as lief have the chase last until morning. Then we'll be better able to see what we are doing.”

”Or trying to do,” said Sam with a faint smile.

CHAPTER XXVI

A FLAG OF TRUCE

Sunrise found the two yachts far out on the ocean with land nowhere in sight. The breeze was still stiff, but it was not as heavy as it had been, and Martin Harris was unable to decrease the s.p.a.ce which separated his own craft from that of the enemy.

”You see, the _Searchlight_ is the better boat in a strong blow,”

he explained. ”When the wind is light the _Flyaway_ has as good a chance of making headway as we have.”

”Well, one thing is certain,” said Tom. ”This chase can't last forever.”

”It may last longer than you imagine, lad.”

”Hardly. We haven't more than enough provisions aboard to last over today.”

”Perhaps the other boat is even worse off,” said Sergeant Brown hopefully. ”If that's the case we'll starve them out.”

”I don't care what we do, so long as we rescue Dora and get that stolen fortune,” said d.i.c.k, as he dragged himself to the crowd, followed by Sam.

”And how's Sam?” questioned Tom, turning to his younger brother.

”Oh, I'm all right--if it comes to fighting.”

”And you, d.i.c.k?”

”I think I can do something--at least, I am willing to try.”