ceive a shot in return, but of course it did not come.
By this time the two yachts were almost side by side and running along at a high rate of speed. Harris got out his boathook to catch fast to the Flyaway, when a cry from Tom made him pause.
"Help me! Don't leave me behind!"
"Great Cæsar!" gasped Sam. "Tom's overboard!"
"Down with the mainsail!" roared Harris. "How did he fall over the side?"
"He tried to jump to the other boat," said Dick, who had seen the action. "I was just thinking of doing it myself."
With all possible speed the big sheet of the Searchlight was lowered, and then they turned as fast as the wind would permit, to the spot where unlucky Tom was bobbing up and down on the swells like a peanut shell.
"Catch the line!" cried Dick, and let fly with a life preserver attached to a fair-sized rope. His aim was a good one, and soon Tom was being hauled aboard again with all possible speed.
"Oh, what a mess I made of it!" he panted; when he could catch his breath. "I'm not fit to hunt jack rabbits."
"It's lucky you weren't run down by the yacht and killed," said Dick. "I was going to jump,
