ching mass of tumbling water,
above which the deck, pilot house and puffing smokestack of a little
steamer showed. This was the "pony of the Kennebec"--the _Gardiner_,
plowing ahead in such desperate haste that one might well believe the
fate of a score of persons depended upon its not losing a half minute.
Alvin took good care to give her plenty of room and saluted with several
whistle toots. There was no reply. The captain merely glanced at the two
craft and sped onward like an arrow from the bow of the hunter.

The _Deerfoot_ rocked and plunged in the swell made by the steamer,
which, spreading out like a fan from its bow, ran tumbling and foaming
along the rocky shores, keeping pace with the headlong charge of the
boat, and trying to engulf everything in its path. One small catboat that
was tied to a rickety, home-made landing, after a couple of dives
capsized, as if it were a giant flapjack under which a housewife had slid
her turning iron.

"They're gaining!" exclaimed Chester, who was closely watching the
progress of the racers. "Do you mean to let them get away, Alvin?"

"Mr. Calvert will answer that question."

"I do so by advising that you neither gain nor lose for the present."

The Captain gave the launch a little more power, and it became clear to
all that the pursuer was picking up the ground, or rather water, that she
had lost. Then for several minutes no difference in speed was
perceptible. A space of a furlong separated the two when they shot past
the point of land bearing the odd name of Thomas Great Toe, which is on
the western side of the lower part of Westport, some two miles above
Goose Neck Passage. Here the water is a mile in width, and is filled with
islands of varying sizes, until the large bay to the northward is
reached.

The _Water Witch_ persisted in hugging the eastern shore, while her
pursuer kept well out, as if to make sure of having plenty of room in
which to pass her, when the chance came. But all the same the chance did
not come. It was soon seen that the fugitive was drawing away from her
pursuer. Mike Murphy fumed, but held his peace.

"It's mesilf that hasn't any inflooence here," he reflected, "as I
obsarved to mysilf whin dad and mither agreed that a thundering big
licking was due me."

"Can you overhaul her?" asked Detective Calvert.

"Easiest thing in the world; I can shoot past her as if she were lying
still."

"Well, don't do it."

Mike could remain silent no l