"I'll get up some kind of a meal," said Sam, who had played cook on many previous occasions.

Inside of half an hour he had the table set and Harris was called down, d.i.c.k taking his place. By the time all hands had been served they were in sight of upper New York City.

"Now we had better take in some sail," said the old sailor. "The yachts are pretty thick 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 tonight, 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 clue,"

responded d.i.c.k gloomily. "If they have taken her to some place in New York we'll have a big job to find her."

A half-hour pa.s.sed, 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k, and held up his hand. "That's Dan Baxter's voice, just as sure as fate."

"I believe you," returned Sam. "Come, we can run her down in no time."

As quickly as it could be accomplished the course of the _Searchlight_ was changed. But the tall buildings of the city cut off a good deal of wind, and it took several minutes before they could get their sails filled.

"Boat ahoy!" shouted Tom, before d.i.c.k could stop him. "Is that the _Flyaway_?"

"That's Tom Rover!" came back, in Mumps' voice. "They have tracked us, after all!"

"Tom, what made you call?" demanded d.i.c.k in disgust. "We might have sneaked upon them unawares."

"Never mind, I reckon we can catch them any how," returned Tom, but he was crestfallen, nevertheless, as he realized the truth of his elder brother's observation. "Crowd on the sail, Harris."

"That's what I am a-doin'," came from the sailor. "We'll catch 'em before they gain the Battery."

"Yes, but we must be careful," said d.i.c.k. "We don't want to have a collision with some other boat."

"No, indeed," put in Sam. "Why, if one of those big ferryboats ran into us there would be nothing left of the _Searchlight_."

"You jest trust me," came from Martin Harris, "I know my business, and there won't be any accidents."

"The other yacht is making for the Jersey sh.o.r.e," cried Sam, a little later. "If we don't look out we'll lose her. There she goes behind a big ferryboat."

"She's going to try to bother us," grumbled Martin Harris, as he received a warning whistle from the ferryboat and threw the yacht over on the opposite tack. "The fellow who is sailing that boat knows his business."

"It's that Bill Goss, I suppose," said Tom. "There they go behind another ferryboat."

"It won't matter, so long as we keep her in sight," said Harris.

"We are bound to run her down sooner or later."

Inside of half an hour the two boats had pa.s.sed the Statue of Liberty. The course of the _Flyaway_ was now straight down the bay, and the Rover boys began to wonder where Dan Baxter and his crowd might be bound.

"They must have Dora a close prisoner," mused d.i.c.k, with a sad shake of his head. "That is if they didn't leave her in New York," he added suddenly.

"Do you suppose they did that?" asked Sam.

"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 d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k grimly. "But it's for more than the American Cup."

"Keep off!" came suddenly from ahead. "Keep off, or it will be the worse for you!"

It was Dan Baxter who was shouting at them. The former bully of Putnam Hall stood at the stern rail of the _Flyaway_ and was using his hands like a trumpet.

"You had better give up the race, Baxter!" called d.i.c.k in return.

"You can't get away from us, no matter how hard you try."

"Keep off," repeated Baxter. "We won't stand any nonsense."

"We are not here for nonsense," put in Tom. "What have you done with Dora Stanhope?"

"Don't know anything about Dora Stanhope," came back from Mumps.

"You have her on board of your boat."

"It's a falsehood."

"Then you left her somewhere in New York."

"We haven't seen her at all," put in Baxter. "If you are looking for her you are on the wrong trail. She went away with Josiah Crabtree."