Martin Harris. "If we don't, a sudden gust might make us lose our stick."
"I'd like to see the Flyaway lose her mast!" cried Tom. " It would just serve the Baxters right if they went to the bottom."
"No, we don't want to see that yacht harmed," put in Dick quickly. "Remember, Dora is on board and that stolen fortune, too."
Swiftly both yachts flew on their outward course, the ocean growing more tempestuous each minute. The police officers viewed the turn of affairs with alarm.
"If it's not safe, let us turn back," whispered Carter.
"Don't get scared so soon," replied Harris, who overheard the remark. "I've been in a worse blow than this, twice over."
The sails were reefed, and they continued on their course. The Flyaway was now but a shadow in the gloom, and presently even this died out.
"The chase is over," announced Harris in disgust. "Hang the luck, anyhow!"
"What do you mean?" demanded Dick.
"She's out of sight, and there is no telling now how she will turn."
"But she can't tack back in this wind."
"She can make a putty good try at it, lad."
