y can't see us. I suppose they'd be just impudent enough to
shoot if they could?"

"Oh, yes," says Old Hickory. "We're outlaws now, you know."

"Who cares?" says Auntie, shruggin' her shoulders.

Say, I wasn't so much surprised at Mr. Ellins. He's spent most of his
life slippin' things over on the government. Auntie, though! A
steady, solemn old girl with her pedigree printed in the Social
Register. You wouldn't have thought it of her.

"Some plunger, Auntie, eh?" says I to Vee. "She don't seem to care
what happens."

"I never knew she could be so reckless," says Vee. "Getting us chased
by a warship! Isn't that rather dangerous, Torchy?"

"I shouldn't call it the mildest outdoor sport there was," says I.

"And the casual way she talks of our being shot at--as if they'd fire
tennis balls!" goes on Vee.

"I didn't care for that part of the conversation myself," says I. "I'm
no hero, like Rupert. If there's any shootin' takes place, I'm goin'
to get nervous. I feel it comin' on."

"You don't think Auntie and Mr. Ellins would let it go that far, do
you?" asks Vee.

"It would be just like Auntie to fire back," says I. "What's a navy
more or less to her, when she gets her jaw set?"

"I--I wish I hadn't come on this old yacht," says Vee.

"If I could row you ashore," says I, "I wouldn't mind stayin' to keep
you company. Look! That smoke off there's gettin' nearer."

If Auntie and Old Hickory was pinin' for thrills, it looked like they
was due to get their wish. Just what would happen in case the _Agnes_
was run down nobody seemed to know. The only thing our two old sports
was interested in just then was this free-for-all race.

Anyway, we had a fine evenin' for it. The ocean was as smooth as a
full bathtub, and all tinted up in pinks and purples, like one of
Belasco's back drops. Off over the bow to the right--excuse me, to the
starboard--a big, ruddy sun was droppin' slow and touchin' up the top
of a fluffy pile of cottony clouds back of us, that looked like they
was balanced right on the edge of things. Bang in the middle of that
peaceful background, though, was this smear of black smoke, and you
didn't have to be any marine dill pickle to tell it was headed our way.

We groups ourselves on the after deck and watches. Everybody that
could annexes a pair of field glasses; but, even with that help, about
all you could see was some white foam piled up against a gray bow. Now
and then Rupe