"All right," replied Alaric, shortly, almost too excited for words.
Both lads realized that after what had just taken place it would be nearly as unpleasant to fall into the hands of Skookum John as into those of the revenue-men themselves, and both were determined that this should not happen if they could prevent it. But could they? Fast as they were sailing, it seemed to Alaric as though the big canoe rushing after them was sailing faster. Bonny dared not take his attention from the steering long enough even to cast a glance behind. Managing the canoe was now more difficult than before, because they had lost one hundred and fifty pounds of live ballast.
When Alaric looked at the water flashing by them it seemed as though he had never moved so fast in his life, while a glance at the big boat astern almost persuaded him that they were creeping at a snail's pace. It was certain that the long wicked-looking beak of the pursuing craft was drawing nearer. Finally it was so close at hand that he could distinguish the old Indian's scowling features and the expression of triumph on Bah-die's face. The lad's heart grew heavy within him, for the city wharves were still far away, and with things as they were the chase was certain to be ended before they could be reached.
All at once an exclamation from Bonny directed his attention to another craft coming up the sound and bearing down on them as though to take part in the race. It was a powerful sloop-yacht standing toward the city from the club-house on Maury Island, and its crew were greatly interested in the brush between the two canoes.
Either by design or accident, the yacht, which was to windward of the chase, stood so close to the big canoe as to completely blanket her, and so take the wind from her sails that she almost lost headway. Then, as though to atone for her error, the yacht bore away so as to run between pursuer and pursued, and pass to leeward of the smaller canoe. As the beautiful craft swept by our lads with a flash of rushing waters, glinting copper, and snowy sails, a cheery voice rang out: "Well done, plucky boys! Stick to it, and you'll win yet!"
Alaric could not see the speaker, because of the sail between them, but the tones were so startlingly familiar that for a moment he imagined the voice to belong to the stranger who had talked with him on the wharf at Victoria, and whom he now knew for a revenue-officer. If that was the case, they were indeed hopelessly surrounded by peril. He was about to confide his fears to Bonny, when like a flash it came to him that the voice was that of Dave Carncross, whom he had not seen since that memorable day in Golden Gate Park.
Although he had no desire to meet this friend of the ball-field under the present circumstances, he was greatly relieved to find his first suspicion groundless, and again directed his attention to the big canoe, which, although she had lost much distance, was again rushing after them. The boy now noticed for the first time, not more than half a mile astern of her, a white steamer with a dense column of smoke pouring from her yellow funnel, and evidently bound for the same port with themselves.
Soon afterwards they had passed the smeltery, saw-mills, and lumber-loading vessels of the old town, and were approaching the cluster of steamships lying at the wharves of the Northern Pacific Railway, which here finds its western terminus. Off these the yacht had already dropped her jib and come to anchor. The big canoe was again overhauling them, and looked as though she might overtake them after all. A boat from the yacht was making toward the wharves, and Bonny, believing that it would find a landing-place, slightly altered his course so as follow the same direction.
All at once Alaric, who was again gazing nervously astern, cried out: "Look at that steamer! I do believe it is going to run down the big canoe."
Bonny glanced hastily over his shoulder, and uttered an exclamation of dismay.