around here and we will miss the Flyaway without half trying unless we are careful."
By the time it was dark they were pretty well down the water front of the metropolis. A consultation was held, and it was decided to lower the mainsail and topsail and leave only the jib flying.
"We can't go much further to-night, anyway," said Harris. "I don't know but what it may be as well to tie up somewhere."
"We'll have to do that unless we can catch some sort of clew," responded Dick gloomily. "If they have taken her to some place in New York we'll have a big job to find her."
A half-hour passed, and they were on the point of turning in at a dock when Tom gave a cry.
"Look! look!"
"What's up, Tom!" came from Dick and Sam simultaneously.
"Is that the Flyaway?"
All gave a look and saw a large yacht moving away from a dock just below where they had thought to stop.
"Call Harris!" cried Dick, and Sam ran to the cabin for the sailor, who had just gone below.
"I reckon that's our boat," said Martin Harris, after a quick look.
"Hark!" cried Dick, and held up his hand.
"That's Dan Baxter's voice, just as sure as fate."
