“That’s our boat!” he yelled. “Now for the end of the chase! Give her all she’ll stand, Ned!”
Immediately all was excitement aboard the Eel. Mr. Brill gave a whoop, which Jim Nestor echoed, and then the man who had hidden the sixty golden nuggets drew something from his pocket with a flourish, and asked:
“Shall I plug a hole in her below the water line, boys, and make him stop to bail?”
“Here! Put up that shooting iron!” cried Jim. “Where do you think you are—on the border, or down in Arizona? These Eastern folks don’t do things that way!”
“More’s the pity!” exclaimed the miner. “But I could plug him as easy as not,” and he sighed regretfully, for the boat ahead offered a splendid mark.
“Yes, and you’d sink our craft if you did any ‘plugging,’” said Jerry. “Never mind, we’ll catch him, for he won’t know how to get the best speed out of the Dartaway.”
“There’s no one in her!” cried Ned, as in response to the further supply of gasoline he fed to the motor, at the same time advancing her spark, the Eel crept up on the other boat. “They’ve abandoned her, Jerry!”
“No, she’s being steered,” declared the tall lad, who had observed that their craft kept on a straight course. “They’re hiding down in the cockpit,” he added. “They’re afraid!”
“And they’d better be!” murmured Bob.