CHAPTER XIII.
WAITING AND WORRYING.
"In the name of all that's good, Joe," cried Matt, as he and the cowboyshook hands, "where did you come from?"
"From the _Sprite_, pard," grinned McGlory. "But that was some sort ofa while ago. I've been on the house boat for quite a spell."
"Where did you get that satchel?"
"It's got the bundle of money in it, Matt--Uncle Dan's money _sabe_?"
"Yes, yes, I know! I saw the red-whiskered man take the money out ofthe satchel, then put it back again and push the satchel under thatbench. But how did _you_ get hold of it? That's what I want to know."
McGlory dropped the satchel and collapsed on the bench.
"Oh, that's the best ever," he laughed. "Those old hardshells werefooled at their own game. Queer about that money of Uncle Dan's. It'sbeen in a good deal of a taking ever since it left Madison. Georgetakes it from Uncle Dan, Red-whiskers takes it from George, Landerstakes it from Red-whiskers, and now here's me taking it from Landers."
"Landers?" queried Mitt. "Did he take the money?"
"Took it the length of the boat. By then I was close enough to get holdof it myself. But you cut loose and tell me what went crossways withyou--I've been worried a heap about that--and then I'll even up bytellin' how I jumped into the game."
Matt made short work of his end of the explanation, and McGloryconsumed but little more time. While McGlory was talking, Matt was notonly listening but also putting two and two together in his own mind.
The cowboy finished with another jubilant laugh, but Matt suddenlybecame grave and got up from the bench.
"Let's go outside, Joe," said he, "where we can keep an eye on oursurroundings."
"What's there in our surroundings to worry us? We've got the money,haven't we?"
"Yes, but the 'taking' you mentioned a few minutes ago may keepup--unless we're on the alert. Suppose Big John, Kinky, and Ross comeback here in the _San Bruno_? What would happen then? We haven't any_Sprite_ to take us off, remember."
"That's a fact," and McGlory went suddenly grave himself. "What evercame over that chink to run off? Say, I'll bet he got to tinkering withthe motor, and that it started on him and he couldn't stop it. Consarnthese chinks, anyhow!"
"Don't be too quick to blame Ping, Joe," remonstrated Matt. "I don'tthink that's what happened."
"What then?"
"Landers thought you were a detective, didn't he?"
"That's what he said."
"Well, he was afraid of being arrested and jailed for helping Big Johnand the other two. That's the reason he played a trick and tumbled offthe boat."
"Well? Go on, pard, and give me the rest of it."
"Don't you think it's likely that he climbed aboard the _Sprite_, tookher away from Ping, and then rushed her across the cove to the nearestlanding?"
"Oh, tell me!" muttered McGlory. "And I never, no, I never once letthat drift into my head! And yet, why not? Wasn't it the natural thingfor Landers to do? Any day you can find in the almanac, pard, I'm shysomething when it comes to headwork. But here's the point: Can Landersrun the _Sprite_ fast enough to keep her away from the _San Bruno_?If he can't, I can see what will happen to Ping and Landers when thatoutfit of fire-eaters come up with them. Oh, shucks! This ain't turnin'out so pleasant as I thought. Suppose we hike for the deck and keep oureyes peeled. It may save us something, although I'm a heathen if I seewhat we could do if the _San Bruno_ came back."
"If we have to," said Matt, "we'll take the money and swim to thenearest house boat."
"It will be a damp roll of bills we take ashore with us if we have todo that."
"Better a lot of wet money, Joe, than no money at all."
"Right, exactly right, as per usual. I've got this pop-gun of CousinGeorge's. It looks like one of those toy Fourth of July things thatmake a noise and let it go at that. Still, maybe the sight of the thingwould scare somebody."
Together they left the cabin, and, in order that their view might bemore extensive, climbed the steep stairs to the house boat's upperdeck. Here there were comfortable chairs, and the boys sat down andallowed their eyes to wander about them over the shadowy surface of thecove.
The lights of the house-boat settlement were still gleaming in everydirection, but every sound had died away and a dead silence reigned.
"If a launch was coming," said McGlory, "we could hear her a mileoff--which is three times as far as we could see her."
"That's right," said Matt, "and I'm hearing one now. Listen! Unless I'maway off in my reckoning a boat is bearing this way from the directionof Tiburon."
McGlory bent his head.
"You've made a bull's-eye, Matt," said he. "A boat's coming, but is itthe _Sprite_ or the _San Bruno_?"
"It's the _San Bruno_," averred Matt.
"How do you make that out?" queried the wondering cowboy.
"Why, a bigger volume of sound, distance considered, than the _Sprite_makes. I noticed that particularly when we were chasing the _San Bruno_across the bay."
"Well, you've got me beat, plumb. We've got to swim, I reckon, goingoff one side of the house boat as the launch ties up at the other?"
"We'll not take to the water until we have to, Joe. Wait until we canget a good look at the boat."
Standing on the upper deck, the two boys faced in the direction of theapproaching launch, and waited and worried.
Slowly, and after a period of time that seemed interminable, a blot ofshadow came gliding toward them from among the clustered lights of thehouse boats.
Matt whirled to grip McGlory's arm.
"What's to pay now, pard?" asked the startled cowboy.
"Why," answered Matt, "two boats are coming!"
"Two?" echoed McGlory, squinting in the direction of the moving blot."I can't make out more than one, and it's plenty hard to see that."
"One is chasing the other--I can tell by the sounds, alone."
"Good ear--remarkable. Put a lot of bronks on a hard trail and I canshut my eyes and tell you how many there are, up to five, by listening.But a boat's a different proposition. How do you know one is chasingthe other, though? That's what gets me."
"Because," answered Matt, "the boat ahead is the _Sprite_ and the onebehind is the _San Bruno_!"
"Sufferin' whirligigs!" exclaimed McGlory. "How far ahead is the_Sprite_?"
"We can tell in a minute. Both boats are close--and the _San Bruno_ hasput out her light. Ah, look!"
Matt leaned over the rail and pointed. By that time the boats could beeasily distinguished. The _Sprite_ was pounding along in a distressingway that proved there was something wrong with her sparking apparatusor her fuel supply, but, in spite of that, she was doing nobly.
"It can't be that Ping is doing the work on the _Sprite_," mutteredMcGlory.
"It sounds as though it might be Ping," said Matt.
"But he can't run the boat! Didn't we see him try, at the Tiburonlanding?"
"He's been watching me, and I think he's learned what to pull andpush and turn in order to keep the boat moving. A Chinaman is a goodimitator, Joe. The _San Bruno_ is giving our launch a close race, andwe'd better go down and stand ready to leap aboard the moment Pingstops for us."
Hurrying down the steps, the two boys placed themselves at the edge ofthe house boat's after deck, ready to jump the moment the _Sprite_ cameclose enough.