"Better slip that fellow," advised the girl. "We don't want him tagging. If we keep well in he won't be able to see us long."
Gregory gave Bronson the necessary orders, and the Richard bounded away from her pursuer and raced into the shadows of the cliff. When they arrived at the point near the Hell-Hole Isthmus, the speed-craft motor began to miss and Bronson guided the Richard in the lea of the promontory and threw out an anchor.
"Good place to fix that right now," he said. "You see everything's new and I've been feeding too much oil. The plugs are all gummed up. 'Twon't take but a minute to clean them."
While he worked over the motor Gregory's eyes roamed shoreward to the cliffs. It was quite dark now and only the sound of the lapping waves betokened the presence of the jagged rocks which projected above the surface of the water near the shore. It was almost here he remembered suddenly that the Sea Gull had been wrecked. As he looked out into the darkness, he felt Dickie's fingers tighten on his arm.
"Look!" she cried. "What's that behind us?"
Gregory turned about to see the black waters to the sternward were rippled with sparkling threads of silver-white. From out the darkness came a swiftly moving gray shadow. One glance astern caused
Bronson to slash the anchor-rope which held the Richard. Then he started the auxiliary motor and threw the speed-craft forward with a jerk. The same instant a long gray hull brushed by them and disappeared into the gloom as silently as she had come. Bronson whirled the Richard about, gazing intently after the departing stranger.
"A miss is as good as a mile," he observed. "If it hadn't been for the dual motor we'd have been out of luck."
"I wouldn't say so," Hawkins snapped. "A miss of a mile wouldn't give a man heart-failure. Lord, I'm weak as a cat."
Kenneth Gregory leaned closer and spoke in a voice which only the boatman could hear. Bronson put about at his words and muffling down, followed silently after the gray boat.