"Perhaps—there is no guessing what they did."
"We missed it by not telegraphing back to the authorities at Cedarville to arrest Josiah Crabtree," said Tom. "I think we can prove that he is in this game before the curtain falls on the last act."
"We'll telegraph when we get back," answered Dick, never thinking of all that was to happen ere they should see the metropolis again.
Gradually the lights of the city faded from view and they found themselves traveling down the bay at a rate of five to six knots an hour.
"We don't seem to be gaining," remarked Tom, after a long silence. "I can just about make her out and that's all."
"But we are gaining, and you'll find it so pretty soon," answered Martin Harris. "They had the advantage in dodging among those other boats, but now we've got a clear stretch before us."
On and on went the two yachts, until the Flyaway was not over five hundred feet ahead of the Searchlight.
"What did I tell you? " said Harris. "We'll overtake her in less than quarter of an hour."
"This is a regular yacht race," smiled Dick grimly. "But it's for more than the American Cup."
