As the wind was light, the launch came up to the _White Wings_ hand over hand. As they drew near, the sailor, Steve, was seen at the wheel, while Flynn was watching them closely. When Flynn could see beyond a doubt that Frank Merriwell was at the wheel of the pursuing launch, he grew wildly excited, rushing about the deck and flourishing his arms. “He’s not pleased to see you, Merry,” observed Hodge. “I didn’t expect he would be,” said Frank. Flynn was seen to rush down the companion way. Pretty soon he came running on deck, carrying a rifle in his hands. “One of my own guns,” muttered Frank. “What is he going to do?” asked Hodge. “Try to scare us?” “He is desperado enough to attempt anything,” said Merry. All at once Flynn shouted: “Go back! If you don’t, I’ll fill you full of bullets!” The threat was not heeded, and the man dropped beside the rail close to the stern of the _White Wings_. He took aim with the rifle. Then there was a puff of smoke, and with a cry Frank dropped. Before Dustan could grasp the wheel, however, Merry was up again. “I got down just in time, then,” he said, coolly. “I saw the puff of smoke, and the bullet whistled within an inch of my head as I fell.” “Look out! He may shoot again!” “No! Look! look! The other man is trying to take the gun away from him! They are fighting!” It was true. On the _White Wings_ a struggle was taking place between the two men. The sailor had deserted the wheel, and the yacht soon came up into the wind with her sails fluttering. The main boom swung over and struck Flynn on the head, knocking him overboard. “Pick the fellow up, somebody,” cried Frank, as the launch ran alongside the _White Wings_. In vain they looked for Parker Flynn. It seemed that he sank as soon as he struck the water, and his body was not recovered. The other man made no resistance as they came on board the yacht. “I kept the critter from doin’ any more shootin’,” he said. “I’ve had enough of his style of business. I s’pose I’ll have to go to the jug for havin’ anything at all ter do with him, but I’ll take my med’cine.” * * * * * At sunset that very day the _White Wings_ sailed into Belfast harbor and reached her old anchorage. Browning had been on the watch, and, with Hans, he put off in a boat before the yacht was abreast the steamboat wharf. “I don’t think you need any shore detectives, Merriwell,” he said. “You have robbed me of the fun of taking part in the chase, and I’ll have to lay that up against you.” “Yaw,” cried Hans, “he vill haf to laid dot up against you, Vrankie. You vos glat I got pack, ain’d id? Der Pelfast girls vos afrait they vould nefer seen you some more.”