"There she is!" cried Tom. "Let us head for her at once. They won't keep that light out long--just long enough to let that steamer go by."

Martin Harris was already at the tiller, and soon the _Searchlight_ was thrown over and was again dipping her nose in the long ocean swells. The wind had died away only to freshen more than ever, and the chase now became a lively one.

The enemy seemed to know that the exposure of their light had given those on the _Searchlight_ the cue, and they were sailing as rapidly as all of their canvas permitted. But Harris was now handling his craft better than ever before, and slowly but surely the distance between the two craft was diminished, until the _Flyaway_ could be made out faintly even without a light.

"Don't lose her again," said d.i.c.k. "We must keep at it until we run them down completely." And Harris promised to do his best.

It was now past midnight, and the police officers said they were tired out and dropped into the cabin to take a nap. d.i.c.k likewise remained below, trying to get up some circulation in the lamed arm.

"Can't you feel anything?" queried Tom.

"I think I can," answered his big brother. "Yes, yes, it's coming now!" he went on. "Thank G.o.d!" and he suddenly raised the arm and bent the fingers of his hand. By daylight that member of his body was nearly as well as ever. But this experience was one which d.i.c.k has not forgotten to the present day.

Sam had bound up his burn with a rag saturated with oil and flour, and announced that he felt quite comfortable. "But just let me get hold of those Baxters," he added. "I shan't stand on any ceremony with them."

"I don't believe any of us will," said Tom.

"But as anxious as I am to have this over, I would just as lief have the chase last until morning. Then we'll be better able to see what we are doing."

"Or trying to do," said Sam with a faint smile.

CHAPTER XXVI

A FLAG OF TRUCE

Sunrise found the two yachts far out on the ocean with land nowhere in sight. The breeze was still stiff, but it was not as heavy as it had been, and Martin Harris was unable to decrease the s.p.a.ce which separated his own craft from that of the enemy.

"You see, the _Searchlight_ is the better boat in a strong blow,"

he explained. "When the wind is light the _Flyaway_ has as good a chance of making headway as we have."

"Well, one thing is certain," said Tom. "This chase can't last forever."

"It may last longer than you imagine, lad."

"Hardly. We haven't more than enough provisions aboard to last over today."

"Perhaps the other boat is even worse off," said Sergeant Brown hopefully. "If that's the case we'll starve them out."

"I don't care what we do, so long as we rescue Dora and get that stolen fortune," said d.i.c.k, as he dragged himself to the crowd, followed by Sam.

"And how's Sam?" questioned Tom, turning to his younger brother.

"Oh, I'm all right--if it comes to fighting."

"And you, d.i.c.k?"

"I think I can do something--at least, I am willing to try."

Breakfast--a rather scant meal--had just been disposed of, when Martin Harris uttered a shout.

"They want to do some talking," he announced.

"Why, what do you mean?" asked d.i.c.k.

"They are hoisting a white rag."

"Sure enough!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom, as he pointed to a flag of truce which Dan Baxter was holding aloft, fastened to an oar. "What do you make of that?"

"They want to make terms," laughed Sergeant Brown. "I reckon things are coming our way at last."

"Do we want to talk to them?" asked Tom.

"Let us make them surrender, and do the talking afterward," came from Sam.

"It won't hurt to let them talk," said the police sergeant. "We can do as we please, anyway, after they are done."

The matter was discussed for a moment, and then Tom tied his handkerchief to a stick and held it up.

"Ahoy there!" came from Arnold Baxter. "Will you honor the flag of truce?"

"Yes," yelled Sergeant Brown.

"And let us have our distance after our talk is over, if we can't come to terms?"

"Yes."

"All right, then; we'll come close enough to talk to you."

Slowly and cautiously the _Flyaway_ drew nearer, until all on board of Harris' yacht could see their enemies quite plainly.

Arnold Baxter was armed with a shotgun, while Buddy Girk and Dan Baxter carried pistols. Mumps kept out of sight as much as possible, while Bill Goss attended to the steering of the boat.

Dora and Mrs. Goss were below.

"Well, what have you got to say?" demanded d.i.c.k, as soon as the others were within easy talking distance.

"How many on board of that yacht?" demanded Arnold Baxter, as he looked at the police officers glumly.

"Enough," replied d.i.c.k. "Is that all you've got to say?"

"Don't grow impudent, boy. It won't set well."

"A person couldn't be impudent to such a rascal as you, Arnold Baxter."

"Have a care, d.i.c.k Rover. What do you propose to do?"