CHAPTER VIII.
A CHASE ACROSS THE BAY.
The suddenness with which the red-whiskered man's accomplices hadinterfered with Motor Matt's plan, and caused it to fail, was asstartling as it was unexpected. Matt, standing back toward the edge ofthe dock with a thumping pain in his shoulder, felt a spasm of chagrinand disappointment.
McGlory picked himself up, assisted the policeman to his feet, and bothcame toward Matt. The policeman was rubbing his head, and seemed dazed.
"Sufferin' snakes!" exclaimed McGlory. "I'm trying to figure out whathappened. Who were the other two that blew in on us, pard, just as wehad everything our own way?"
"They must have been Kinky and Ross," replied Matt.
"Who are they?" demanded the officer.
"Two pals of this red-whiskered man. He probably had them waiting inthe background, just as we had you waiting to help us, officer."
"This ain't the last of this!" cried the officer hotly. "Which way didthey go?"
Matt indicated the direction. The officer started off at a run, tuggingat his pocket.
"Why don't you come along?" he demanded over his shoulder.
"One of them said something about getting away in a launch," returnedMatt. "I didn't know but it was a boat that I have here, and I thinkit's well to stand around and see if they come back."
"I'll see where the scoundrels go, anyhow," said the officer, andvanished at a rapid pace.
"Are you hurt, Joe?" inquired Matt.
"My feelin's are badly injured," answered the cowboy. "The rap I goton the block don't count for much, although it was enough to drop me,right where I stood. They're a fine lot, those galoots. I reckon, it'sa cinch that they're the chaps we want--and the ones we won't get.George will weep some more when he hears about it."
"Listen!" said Matt.
The exhaust of an engine struck on his ears, faintly but distinctly. Itcame from somewhere to the south of the place where he and McGlory werestanding.
"What is it, pard?" queried the cowboy.
"A boat! Didn't you hear Red-whiskers speak about a launch?"
"Yes, but I reckoned it was the _Sprite_ he meant, and that he changedhis mind when he saw you hustling to get between him and the boat."
"It wasn't the _Sprite_, but another launch, and---- Ah, see that!"
Matt pointed into the darkness to the southward. A light could be seenmoving around the end of a slip, gliding across the dark water like astar.
"There they go!" cried McGlory excitedly.
"This way, Joe," called Matt, whirling and running toward the _Sprite_."Hurry!"
The Chinese boy was still dozing by the post, the noise caused by therecent scrimmage not having been sufficiently loud to disturb him.He was on his feet, however, the instant Matt dropped a hand on hisshoulder.
"You Motor Matt?" palpitated Ping. "You wantee----"
"Cast off the rope, Ping," cut in Matt, sliding from the edge of thedock into the boat. "Quick! Get in behind, Joe," he added to McGlory."We haven't an instant to lose."
"Well, hardly," answered the cowboy, scrambling aboard while Mattstarted the engine. "Time's plenty scarce for us if we're to overhaulthat other boat."
The painter fell into the boat and Ping fell along with it.
"I didn't intend to take you, Ping," said Matt, switching the powerinto the propeller and turning the nose of the _Sprite_ toward the openbay.
"By Klismus," said Ping, with unexpected firmness, "my workee fo' you!Where you makee go, my makee go, allee same. Me plenty fine China boy."
"Got any sand, Ping?" asked McGlory.
"Have got. Fightee allee same like Sam Hill. Whoosh! Plenty big highChina boy, allee same Boxer. You watchee, Motol Matt watchee. My workeeheap fine fo' Motol Matt. Workee, fightee--him allee same."
While this brief cross-fire was going on between McGlory and Ping, Mattwas driving the _Sprite_ down the slip for all she was worth. The waterslithered up along her sharp bow and flung itself in spray over thecrouching forms of the cowboy and the Chinese. The launch, because ofthe weight aft, was very much down by the stern; but this, by throwingthe bow high, helped the boat to slip over the water.
After dropping from the dock into the launch Matt had not seen themoving light until, when he was halfway out of the slip, the littlegleam danced across the open space between the outer ends of the twopiers.
"Great spark plugs!" muttered Matt, "that's the other boat."
"She's going north!" exclaimed McGlory.
"Which makes it easy for us to pick up her trail and follow. If she hadgone south, she might have got away from us."
"She's rippin' along like an express train," murmured the cowboy,watching the light vanish around the end of the pier.
"She's not speedy enough to leave the _Sprite_ behind," exulted Matt,his nerves quivering in unison with the little tremors the hummingcylinders sent through the boat.
"If those tinhorns see us, pard----"
"They won't. We're not carrying any lights, and I'm surprised to seethem with one."
"Mebby they can hear us if they can't see us."
"We'll have to drop behind far enough so they won't hear us. Their ownboat makes twice as much noise as the _Sprite_, and that will drown thethrob of our exhaust and the whir of the cylinders."
Just then the _Sprite_ dashed out of the black maw of the slip,wheeled in a foamy arc and turned her nose northward. There were manylights in the bay--red and green side lamps and white masthead lights,and others, but Matt was not confused. The white gleam straight tonorthward was the one he knew he should follow.
A lightish streak surged in the wake of the other launch. Matt couldnot make out much about the craft except that she was considerablylarger than the _Sprite_ and had a canvas or wooden canopy over thecockpit.
But the _Sprite_ was the faster boat. Matt, studying the distancethat separated the _Sprite_ from the launch ahead, found it necessaryto choke down the motor in order to keep from overhauling the threethieves.
"I thought you wanted to catch them," complained McGlory, conscious ofthe lessening speed.
"What good would it do for us to overhaul them out in the bay?"queried Matt, humping over the wheel and speaking without turning hishead. "There are three of the scoundrels, and they're armed and wouldprobably be only too glad to have us tackle them. If Red-whiskers couldlay me by the heels, you know, he'd get his trunk check."
"Correct, pard. It wouldn't do to run alongside of them in the bay. Butwhat're you thinking of?"
"We're just shadowing them to find out where they go. When we discoverthat, we'll hold a council and decide what's to be done next."
"Waugh!" sputtered McGlory. "Queerest ever that I can't ride on thewater without getting a gone feeling in the pit of my stomach."
"Have you got it now, Joe?"
"Awful. If I had any supper aboard, I reckon I'd unload. And I cango through all kinds of rough weather on a buckin' bronk! No matterhow much a bronk pitches, or bucks, it never makes me squeamish--butboats! Well, the minute I get into one I begin to have cramps. Funny,ain't it? They got a fake boat in a picture gallery in Tucson, and if agaloot wants a tin type of himself, at sea, he gets into the fake boatand lets the camera snap. Honest to Mack, every time I go to that placefor a tin type I get seasick."
Matt laughed.
"And yet you like boats!" he exclaimed.
"Achin' for 'em all the time. It's human nature to be contrary withyourself, I---- Sufferin' centipedes! I'm an Injun if that other boatisn't making for Tiburon."
"I don't think so, Joe," said Matt. "There's a place around the pointthat's called Belvedere Cove. The other boat is either going to put inthere or else go farther up the bay. We can tell in a minute."
A little later Matt announced that the other launch had doubled thepoint and put into the Cove. For a brief space the point of land hidthe larger launch from the eyes of those in the _Sprite_; but, as the_Sprite_ pushed around the point, a multitude of lights burst suddenlyon the
gaze of her passengers--stationary lights they were, with theexception of one that was gliding among them like a shooting star.
"Tell me about that!" muttered McGlory, standing up for a better look."The surface of the cove looks like a town. Where are all those lamps?"
"On houseboats, Joe," replied Matt. "The tide-water inlets, in andabout San Francisco Bay, are full of house boats at this season of theyear. That's the other launch--that moving light, over there."
McGlory continued to stand up, bracing himself with a hold on Ping'spigtail, which happened to be the most convenient thing handy.
The _Sprite_, keeping to the trail of the moving white gleam, dartedin and out among the house boats. From many of the anchored boats camesounds of mirth, music, and gay talk. Some one, on an ungainly craftwhich the _Sprite_ passed within a short fathom, shouted a warning forMatt to put out a light. This warning, of course, could not be heeded,and the little launch foamed onward out of earshot.
Suddenly Matt shut off the power and brought the boat to a halt.
"The other launch has tied up alongside a house boat, Joe," heannounced, "and we're at the end of our trail. What shall we do? Go toTiburon after a policeman or two or go on with the work ourselves?"