"Better stay down there," advised Bruce. "Next time I shall throw you farther."
"Next time you won't throw me at all!" came from the professed sheriff, as he made another spring for the yacht.
It seemed that Bruce caught him on the fly. Now the big fellow was fully aroused, and he swung the stranger over his head and gave him a terrific heave.
The man whirled through the air, passed clean over the launch, struck the water beyond and disappeared from view.
At that very moment Frank Merriwell got another
crack at Parker Flynn, who had not learned his lesson by his first experience, and again tried to board.
Smack!—the blow sounded, and, with a groan, Flynn dropped down into the launch.
The man who was running the launch seemed satisfied, for he suddenly let go with the boat hook, and the yacht swung away from her foe.
The self-styled sheriff came to the surface and was pulled aboard the launch. The ducking seemed to have taken the spirit out of him. He glared at the yacht, but all his eagerness to board her seemed gone. Parker Flynn sat up and swore, holding onto his aching jaw. He had not realized that there was a set of fighters on board the White Wings, although Wat Snell had warned him to that effect. Now he realized that the yacht could not easily be captured in the manner in which he had attempted to accomplish the feat.
The meeting of Flynn and Snell came about in this way. Snell, on finding Frank and his friends were in Boston, had played the spy on the party. He followed them to the pier the morning they went aboard the White Wings, and he saw the encounter between Frank and Flynn. When Flynn left the pier, Snell followed and spoke to him. After that it did not take Wat long to work into the good graces of Flynn.