"Stop, thief! Stop, thief!" yelled Matt.
There were so many people thronging that part of the board walk that it seemed an easy enough matter to halt the rascally photographer. Yet, strange as it may seem, this was not the case. Men, who were escorting ladies and children, made haste to get them out of the way; others, who had no one depending on them, seemed bewildered, and pushed out of the way to watch. Fortunately, another officer appeared on the other side of the entrance to the pier and headed Jurgens off in that direction.
Turning to the left, Jurgens struck the ticket taker out of his path and raced onto the pier.
Matt followed, not more than a dozen feet behind.
The concert was over and, at that moment, there were not many people on the pier, and Matt had a straight-away chase through the little pavilions.
He felt sure that he would capture Jurgens, for when the thief reached the end of the pier, the Atlantic Ocean would cut short his flight and he would have to turn back.
But in this Matt was mistaken. Jurgens did not run to the end of the pier but climbed over the rail at the side and dropped from sight. When Matt reached the rail, he saw that Jurgens had dropped into a rowboat, that had been tied to the piles, and was bending to the oars. He shouted a taunting defiance at Matt as he continued to put a widening stretch of water between them.
At once Matt thought of the Hawk. In less than five minutes he and Ferral could be in the air, following the rowboat wherever it went. With the officers to watch the shore and perhaps pursue Jurgens in other boats, Matt felt positive that he and Dick would be able to overhaul Jurgens if other means failed.
Without loss of a moment, he started back toward the board walk.