"That's a fact," and McGlory went suddenly grave himself. "What ever came over that chink to run off? Say, I'll bet he got to tinkering with the motor, and that it started on him and he couldn't stop it. Consarn these chinks, anyhow!"
"Don't be too quick to blame Ping, Joe," remonstrated Matt. "I don't think that's what happened."
"What then?"
"Landers thought you were a detective, didn't he?"
"That's what he said."
"Well, he was afraid of being arrested and jailed for helping Big John and the other two. That's the reason he played a trick and tumbled off the boat."
"Well? Go on, pard, and give me the rest of it."
"Don't you think it's likely that he climbed aboard the Sprite, took her away from Ping, and then rushed her across the cove to the nearest landing?"
"Oh, tell me!" muttered McGlory. "And I never, no, I never once let that drift into my head! And yet, why not? Wasn't it the natural thing for Landers to do? Any day you can find in the almanac, pard, I'm shy something when it comes to headwork. But here's the point: Can Landers run the Sprite fast enough to keep her away from the San Bruno? If he can't, I can see what will happen to Ping and Landers when that outfit of fire-eaters come up with them. Oh, shucks! This ain't turnin' out so pleasant as I thought. Suppose we hike for the deck and keep our eyes peeled. It may save us something, although I'm a heathen if I see what we could do if the San Bruno came back."
"If we have to," said Matt, "we'll take the money and swim to the nearest house boat."