"And I'm with you!" exclaimed Andy heartily.
The two brothers cast backward glances at the vessel with which they had had a clash. It was rapidly disappearing in a slight haze that was arising, and soon Frank thought it would be safe to turn about, sail with the wind, and take after the mysterious man.
But he did not count on the weather. Soon the wind increased in violence, and there was a choppy sea.
"I don't like this," remarked Andy, as their small craft pitched and tossed on the waves. "I don't mean I'm seasick, or anything like that, but we're getting pretty far out, and with a storm coming on toward night—"
"That's right," agreed Frank. "We'll have to turn back. It's tough luck, just as we're on the right track, but it can't be helped. It wouldn't be right to make mom and dad worry. We'll beat it back for home."
But the wind came up with such sudden violence, and the sea ran so high, that the best the boys could do was to run for shelter. In fact it was only with considerable risk that they made a safe harbor, for with a rising tide and a cross current their small craft was in a bad way.
"We'll never make Harbor View!" cried Frank above the noise of the wind and the spatter of the salt spume on deck.
"What'll we do then?" shouted Andy. The two brothers had donned their oilskins which were glistening with moisture in the fading light of the day.
"Run for Mardene and anchor there. Then we can go home on the railroad."
"All right. Got any cash?"