subtle way, he
had felt a certain accountability for 'Frisco Kid's future welfare; and
after that, and still more subtly, he had become aware of duties which
he owed to his position, to his sister, to his chums and friends; and
now, by a most unexpected chain of circumstances, came the pressing need
of service for his father's sake. It was a call upon his deepest strength,
and he responded bravely. While the future might be doubtful, he had no
doubt of himself; and this very state of mind, this self-confidence, by
a generous alchemy, gave him added resolution. Nor did he fail to be
vaguely aware of it, and to grasp dimly at the truth that confidence
breeds confidence--strength, strength.

CHAPTER XIX

THE BOYS PLAN AN ESCAPE

"Now she takes it!" French Pete cried.

Both lads ran into the cockpit. They were on the edge of the breaking bar.
A huge forty-footer reared a foam-crested head far above them, stealing
their wind for the moment and threatening to crush the tiny craft like
an egg-shell. Joe held his breath. It was the supreme moment. French Pete
luffed straight into it, and the _Dazzler_ mounted the steep slope with
a rush, poised a moment on the giddy summit, and fell into the yawning
valley beyond. Keeping off in the intervals to fill the mainsail, and
luffing into the combers, they worked their way across the dangerous
stretch. Once they caught the tail-end of a whitecap and were well-nigh
smothered in the froth, but otherwise the sloop bobbed and ducked with
the happy facility of a cork.

To Joe it seemed as though he had been lifted out of himself--out of
the world. Ah, this was life! this was action! Surely it could not be
the old, commonplace world he had lived in so long! The sailors, grouped
on the streaming deck-load of the steamer, waved their sou'westers, and,
on the bridge, even the captain was expressing his admiration for the
plucky craft.

"Ah, you see! you see!" French Pete pointed astern.

The sloop-yacht had been afraid to venture it, and was skirting back
and forth on the inner edge of the bar. The chase was over. A pilot-boat,
running for shelter from the coming storm, flew by them like a frightened
bird, passing the steamer as though the latter were standing still.

Half an hour later the _Dazzler_ sped beyond the last smoking sea and was
sliding up and down on the long Pacific swell. The wind had increased its
velocity and necessitated a reefing down of jib and mainsail. The