d a good start, and that counted for much. But
Tom counted on two other points. One was that Happy Harry and his gang
would probably know little about the fine points of a motor. They had
shown this in letting the motor of the boat they had first stolen get
out of order, and Tom knew the ins and outs of a gasoline engine to
perfection. So the chase was not so hopeless as it seemed.

"Do you think you can catch them?" asked Mr. Damon anxiously.

"I'm going to make a big try," answered his companion.

"They're heading out into the middle of the lake!" cried the eccentric
man.

"If they do, I can cut them off!" murmured Tom as he put the wheel over.

But whoever was steering the ARROW knew better than to send it on a
course that would enable the pursuing boat to cut across and shorten
the distance to it. After sending the stolen craft far enough out from
shore to clear points of land that jutted out into the lake, the
leading boat was sent straight ahead.

"A stern chase and a long chase!" murmured Mr. Damon. "Bless my
rudder, but those fellows are not going to give up easily."

"I guess not," murmured Tom. "Will you steer for a while, Mr. Damon?"

"Of course I will. If I could get out and pull the boat after me, to
make it go faster, I would. But as I always lose my breath when I run,
perhaps it's just as well that I stay in here." Tom thought so too,
but his attention was soon given to the engine. He adjusted the timer
to get if possible a little more speed out of the boat he had borrowed
from Andy, and he paid particular attention to the oiling system.

"We're going a bit faster!" called Mr. Damon' encouragingly, "or else
they're slacking up."

Tom peered ahead to see if this was so. It was hard to judge whether
he was overhauling the ARROW, as it was a stern chase, and that is
always difficult to judge. But a glimpse along shore showed him that
they were slipping through the water at a faster speed.

"They're up to something!" suddenly exclaimed Mr. Damon a moment later.
"I believe they're going to fire on us, Tom. They are pointing
something this way."

The lad stood up and gazed earnestly at his boat, which seemed to be
slipping away from him so fast. One of the occupants was in the stern,
aiming some glittering object at those in the RED STREAK. For a moment
Tom thought it might be a gun. Then, as the man turned, he saw what it
was.

"A pair of marine glasses," cried the lad. "They'r