"And yet you like boats!" he exclaimed.
"Achin' for 'em all the time. It's human nature to be contrary with yourself, I—— Sufferin' centipedes! I'm an Injun if that other boat isn't making for Tiburon."
"I don't think so, Joe," said Matt. "There's a place around the point that's called Belvedere Cove. The other boat is either going to put in there or else go farther up the bay. We can tell in a minute."
A little later Matt announced that the other launch had doubled the point and put into the Cove. For a brief space the point of land hid the larger launch from the eyes of those in the Sprite; but, as the Sprite pushed around the point, a multitude of lights burst suddenly on the gaze of her passengers—stationary lights they were, with the exception of one that was gliding among them like a shooting star.
"Tell me about that!" muttered McGlory, standing up for a better look. "The surface of the cove looks like a town. Where are all those lamps?"
"On houseboats, Joe," replied Matt. "The tide-water inlets, in and about San Francisco Bay, are full of house boats at this season of the year. That's the other launch—that moving light, over there."
McGlory continued to stand up, bracing himself with a hold on Ping's pigtail, which happened to be the most convenient thing handy.
The Sprite, keeping to the trail of the moving white gleam, darted in and out among the house boats. From many of the anchored boats came sounds of mirth, music, and gay talk. Some one, on an ungainly craft which the Sprite passed within a short fathom, shouted a warning for Matt to put out a light. This warning, of course, could not be heeded, and the little launch foamed onward out of earshot.
Suddenly Matt shut off the power and brought the boat to a halt.