At Kenyon’s order the _Vixen_ swept around and followed the other boat like a beagle. Suddenly the lights of a large yacht stared down at them, from the distance of about twenty-five yards. Then they heard a shrill hail from the deck of the _Piedmont_. “Ahoy! Is that the _Wizard_?” No reply came from the yacht. “Hello! is that the yacht _Wizard_?” came another voice. “Farbush,” Kenyon told Webster. Still there was no answer from the yacht. “She’s increasing her speed,” spoke the skipper of the _Vixen_. “Her people don’t seem to want to be friendly.” Bells could be heard jingling from the engine-room of the larger vessel; the rush of water around her bow grew greater; then she shot forward at a swifter rate. The _Piedmont’s_ lights were seen to swing in pursuit; and almost at the same moment the _Vixen_ performed a like manœuvre. “She can’t outfoot us,” said Kenyon to Dallas, “but we may have some trouble stopping her, if they persist in going ahead.” “We’ll have to do it before we pass City Island,” growled the _Vixen’s_ skipper. “This craft can’t ride the seas that’s piling into the Sound to-night. She’d swamp if we tried to shove her through.” They rushed along until they were almost overlapping the _Wizard’s_ stern. However, they were some thirty or more yards to the starboard of her; the _Piedmont_ was upon the port side and apparently directly in her wash. “It seems as though they were going to try to lay alongside and board her,” cried Webster, suddenly, as he peered through a night glass. “They’ll go to the bottom if they make the attempt,” prophesied the engineman of the _Vixen_. “They must be damned fools.” “I’m not so sure about that,” said Kenyon, quietly. “They are out here to board that yacht, and it’s up to them to do the best they can in the matter. If the people on board the _Wizard_ refuse to stop, they must take steps to accomplish their object, anyhow.” “But it’s impossible to get to the deck of that vessel at her present speed,” protested the skipper. “I’ll show you in a few minutes that it is not,” Kenyon assured him. “What do you mean?” suspiciously. “Just point her nose toward the yacht’s stern. I think I can get her rail in a jump from the cabin roof.” “You could never do it. Another thing, I’m not going to give you a chance to try. If the _Vixen_ once got so far into the wash of that craft, she’d be swamped.” Just then a high-pitched voice was heard crying from the _Wizard’s_ deck: “Sheer off there, you fools, or I’ll run you down!” There was silence for a moment, save for the beat of the engines and the dashing of the dark water; then a gunshot roared redly through the night, followed by a scream of pain. “Head her over,” cried Kenyon, excitedly, to the skipper. “I’m blessed if I do,” replied the man, stubbornly. “What the devil are you folks after, anyhow?” “Head her over,” ordered Kenyon, sternly.