“Certainly not,” agreed Mr. Potter. “Well, we might as well go below, Larry. The chase is over.”
“No, it isn’t!” cried the young reporter.
“I mean that I’m not going to give up. I believe those fellows will land. They’ll try to get away on shore, now. But I’m going to keep after them! Is there any town or city off there, captain?” he asked, pointing through the mist toward shore.
“Yes, there’s a little town—Marshall, I think they call it—dead ahead of us now. I have often put in there in a storm. It’s a good harbor.”
“Then let’s put in there now!” cried Larry. “Most likely that will be where the kidnappers will go. We may be able to pick up the trail from there.”
“It’s the only thing to do,” agreed Mr. Potter.
Madame Androletti did not altogether understand how greatly the fog hindered the chance of catching the other boat, and, mercifully, they did not tell her. They only said that the chase was being kept up.
“I’ll get Parloti yet!” said Larry fiercely. “And I’ll have the stolen boy, too.”
“Then you still think Parloti was the one who took him?” asked Mr. Potter.