Ping, straining his eyes through the dark, could see the men on the San Bruno. There were three of them, and their boat was less than three lengths away!
Suddenly the Sprite slewed around, crosswise of the San Bruno's course. Ping started up with a frightened yell, a splash echoing in his ears.
There was no one at the wheel or the levers! Ping's almond eyes turned swiftly shoreward, and there they saw a form in the water, swimming strongly toward the land.
But Ping was not thinking of the strange white man, but of the Sprite. Hurling himself forward across the midship thwart, he seized the steering wheel and turned the launch in a wide circle.
A shout went up from the San Bruno.
"Halt, Landers! You can't get away with that money! Stop and drop alongside or we'll cut you down to the water's edge!"
Ping, naturally, couldn't understand this. The voice that had called out was not the voice of Motor Matt or McGlory. Since they were not on the San Bruno, then, of course, they must still be on the house boat.
The Chinese boy started back over the watery trail which the Sprite had recently traversed under the guidance of the white man. Carefully he doctored the motor, pulling and pushing as he had seen Matt push and pull, all the while breathing choice prayers in his native tongue to placate the demon in the engine.
The devil must have been placated, at least a little, for he did not clamor quite so loud, but at intervals he hammered in a way that was very distressing to Ping. However, Ping couldn't help it, so he settled himself down to his steering, occasionally throwing a look over his shoulder at the other boat.
The Sprite was gaining on her slowly. Ping continued to breathe his heathen prayers, and to beg the honorable demon to stop pounding in the machine and to put its extra power into the little wheel under the boat.