“All complete,” announced Joe. “Hoist away.”
Up went the line of bunting, breaking out gracefully. There was just enough breeze to spread the signals clearly.
“Let the cap’n of the ‘Buzzard’ pass that by if he thinks best,” muttered one of the Tampa officers, dryly.
“He could declare, afterwards, that he didn’t observe our signal,” Tom Halstead remarked, thoughtfully.
“He could, suh, sutt’nly, but we wouldn’t believe him.”
Though the other motor boat was still well in the lead, it was not gaining in relative distance, but rather slowly losing. No one showed aft on the “Buzzard,” and no heed was paid to the signal fluttering from the signal mast of the “Restless.”
“We’ve simply got to keep this up until we run within hail,” muttered Tremaine.
“Too bad we’re not a revenue cutter,” sighed Skipper Tom.
“What, then?”
“We’d have a bow-gun, and could fire a shot past the ‘Buzzard.’”