The water curled over in a graceful half circle as it was split apart by the sharp prow. Some of the spray was scattered over him, though otherwise the river was as calm as a millpond. The tide was at its turn, so there was no current. Alvin held to the middle of the river, where he knew it was very deep, and he would have timely notice of every obstruction that could appear.
Now that the two were fairly started upon the singular chase, they had time to speculate as to its probable result. They had not a firearm on the boat nor had they ever had one aboard. They were chasing a party of criminals who were sure to be well armed. Suppose our young friends overtook them, what could they do?
Alvin had a dim idea that having drawn near enough to discover the Water Witch, he would keep in sight until others could intervene. His boat would follow whereever the fugitive dare lead, and would never give up. If our young friends could not attack, they could point out the way for others. Should the criminals run into shore, where there was a chance of landing without being observed, the pursuers could be at their heels, and through the nearest telegraph station raise the hue and cry that would quickly end in their overthrow.
“It is strange,” reflected Alvin, “that while we have not meant to have anything to do with those scamps we are continually running into them, while Detective Calvert, who is in this part of the world for that purpose, can’t put his hand on them. If he and his friend, whom we saw at Wiscasset, and who is an officer of the law also, were here, we should be sure of doing the right thing. As it is, it’s all guesswork.”
“Light ahead!” suddenly called Chester beside him.
“Where away?”
“Right ahead, but closer in shore on the left.”
Alvin leaned forward and gazed intently.
“You are right,” he added as he saw a white light low down on the water. “Now we’ll show those fellows what the Deerfoot can do when she tries.”
He flirted over the little lever controlling the power, and instantly the engine responded so fiercely that the launch shivered from stem to stern. It bounded forward like a hound freed from the leash, the bow rising from the impulse, as if it would leap clear of the water, and seemingly shooting over it, like an iceboat driven in a hurricane.