Tom Corwin's head appeared
over the cabin roof, he took a look at the rival craft and popped from
sight again. The _Follow Me_ stopped going back and hung with her nose
abreast the _Adventurer's_ stern. Phil, who had been writing a letter in
the cabin, emerged and joined the group outside.
"How fast is she going, Steve?" he asked.
"About seventeen, I think. Still, Harry said the _Follow Me's_ best was
eighteen, and she isn't losing any, and so we may be doing eighteen,
too. Guess we might as well settle the matter right now, though."
With which he pulled the throttle to the limit, and the white cruiser,
quivering from stem to stern, forged ahead. "We're doing a good twenty
miles an hour now," shouted Steve above the hum of the motor, "and she
won't go any faster unless we get out and push!"
But twenty miles was fast enough to distance the _Follow Me_, although
that boat held on gamely all the way across the bay and only slowed down
when, a good quarter of a mile behind the _Adventurer_, she was abreast
Pelican Bar. The _Adventurer_ dropped her gait to twelve and presently
the black cruiser, having negotiated the inlet in the wake of the other
craft, drew within hailing distance and Harry Corwin called across
through the megaphone.
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