"Do you think you would know her again? I mean the Flyaway—if we got anywhere near her?" asked Dick.
"I think I would, lad. She had a rather dirty mainsail and jib, and each had a new patch of white near the top. Then, too, her rig is a little different from what we have around here. Looked like a Southern boat."
"Have you your boat handy?"
"Yes, she's right at the end of this street. Do you want me to follow up that crowd?"
"Could your boat catch the Flyaway, do you think?"
"My boat, the Searchlight, is as good a yacht as there is anywhere around, if I do say it myself," answered Martin Harris promptly. "It you don't believe it, try her and see."
"We will try her," came promptly from Dick. "And the sooner you begin the chase the better it will suit me."
"All right; we'll start as soon as I've swallowed this coffee," answered the skipper of the Searchlight. "But, hold on, this may prove a long search."
"Do you want to make terms?"
"I wasn't thinking of that. I'll leave it to you as to what the job is worth, after we're done. I was thinking that I haven't any provender aboard my yacht, if we want to stay out any length of time."