When Erik Nord and Florence caught sight of the long-eared Chinaman placidly cruising the lagoon in a Dodge-Em, Erik, as we have said, led the girl away in hot pursuit.
Unfortunately, on reaching the nearest available craft, they found it to be but another slow going, doddering old Dodge-Em.
“We’ll take it,” Erik decided on the instant.
“Have to. Nothing else in sight. Probably he hasn’t seen us. Slip up on him without the least trouble.”
“And if he goes ashore I’ll get him. I can run. No Chinaman has out-distanced me yet.” He stepped on the gas and they were away, away at the breakneck speed of four miles an hour.
“Think of finding him right here in Chicago!” Erik exulted. “How’d you come to know him?”
Florence did not reply.
“Look!” She leaned far forward. “There he goes! He’s headed straight down the lagoon.”
“He’ll never go outside. Probably land. We’ll get him!” Erik trod angrily on the lever that kept the motor going. “If only a fellow could get one burst of speed out of this thing!”
He was making that same remark a quarter of an hour later. The long-eared one had not gone ashore. Instead, he had headed straight down the lagoon and out into the open lake where darkness and silence reigned. And Erik Nord, with all the stubbornness of his race, had followed in slow pursuit.