d straightway
determined to accompany the party. A few minutes later the _Richard_ and
the _Pelican_ rounded the tip of San Anselmo and headed into the storm.
Then Hawkins' professional curiosity got the better of him.

"What's the big idea?" he asked.

Gregory explained, concluding optimistically: "I'm not worrying much.
Farnsworth can fix things up all right. Then we'll go back to Cavalan."

"If he doesn't you can put up a bond for double the amount of the
claim," Hawkins advised. "That will stay the attachment until you can
raise the cash. You'd have to get it in person though--and before four
o'clock."

He looked at his watch.

"You'll have to go some to do that," he said. "If you could cut loose
from the _Pelican_ it would be a cinch, but of course you've got to wait
until you get an answer to your message."

For some time the two boats fought their way through the rising waves.
Then the fishing-boat signaled the _Richard_ to draw closer. Gregory
listened intently for the words of the man with the megaphone as he
appeared on the _Pelican's_ deck. The operator's message came faintly to
them above the roar of the wind.

Mr. Farnsworth left his office at noon to-day on motor
trip to country. Not expected to return until Monday.
Little hope of reaching him to-night but will keep
trying.

McCoy.

Hawkins swore softly at the intelligence. It was one-thirty already. Not
much chance of reaching Legonia in time to accomplish much to-day.

"Tell McCoy I'll be at the cannery before four o'clock."

Dickie flashed a glance at the clock on the _Richard's_ dash at
Gregory's words. Every minute was going to count. It was up to the
speed-boat to show what she could do. Opening the cut-out, the girl
began to get the speed-craft under way. With a roar which drowned out
the wind, the _Richard_ mounted to the white-capped swells and raced for
the mainland. There was only one chance in a hundred of making it on
time. She set her lips grimly and gripped the wheel. If it was only one
in a thousand, she'd take it--for Kenneth Gregory.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE VALUE OF PUBLICITY

"What time is it?"

Gregory huddled to the floor of the cockpit and drew out his watch.
"Two-thirty," he shouted above the frenzied snapping of the open
exhaust.

Dickie hurled the _Richard_ into a mounting wall of green water which
tottered above them. Then she cried thro