. And what else could it be?... But who was he to say?
What did he know of the woman, of her antecedents and circumstances?
Nothing more than her name, that she had attracted him--as any handsome
woman might have--that she had been spied upon within his personal
knowledge and had now been set upon and carried off by _force majeure_.

And knowing no more than this, he had without an instant's thought of
consequences elected himself her champion! O headlong and infatuate!

Probably no more severe critic of his own chivalric foolishness ever set
himself to succour a damsel in distress. Withal he entertained not the
shadow of a thought of drawing back. As long as the other boat remained
in sight; as long as the gasoline and his strength held out; as long as
the _Trouble_ held together and he retained the wit to guide her--so
long was Whitaker determined to stick to the wake of the kidnappers.

A little more than halfway between their starting-point and the head of
the bay, the leading boat swung sharply in toward the shore, then shot
into the mouth of a narrow indentation. Whitaker found that he was
catching up quickly, showing that speed had been slackened for this
manoeuvre. But the advantage was merely momentary, soon lost. The boat
slipped out of sight between high banks. And he, imitating faithfully
its course, was himself compelled to throttle down the engine, lest he
run aground.

For two or three minutes he could see nothing of the other. Then he
emerged from a tortuous and constricted channel into a deep cut, perhaps
fifty feet in width and spanned by a draw-bridge and a railroad trestle.
At the farther end of this tide-gate canal connecting the Great West Bay
with the Great Peconic, the leading power boat was visible, heading out
at full speed. And by the time he had thrown the motor of the _Trouble_
back into its full stride, the half-mile lead was fully reestablished,
if not improved upon.

The tide was setting in through the canal--otherwise the gates had been
closed--with a strength that taxed the _Trouble_ to surpass. It seemed
an interminable time before the banks slipped behind and the boat picked
up her heels anew and swept out over the broad reaches of the Peconic
like a hound on the trail. The starboard light of the leader was slowly
becoming more and more distinct as she swung again to the eastward. That
way, Whitaker figured, with his brows perplexed, lay Shelter Island,
Greenport, Sag Harbor (name