“_If!_” commented Tempest, grimly. “I’ve got a good deal of faith in human nature, my lad, but I’d rather believe our friend was ’way back in his precious Dogtooth City than where he is at this minute. Foxy old rascal! He’d have given his ears for a breeze like this during the day. As it is, I don’t believe he can be much more than two or three hours’ sailing in front of us. Who would have thought of him sneaking off like that? I don’t know whether he expected we should smell a rat and come after him quickly, but he reckoned on getting a full day’s lead of us anyhow.” “It will be an interesting moment when we do meet him,” Dave said with a smile. “He will be polite, even under those circumstances, and try to work in a few funny stories. I’ve met his kind before.” “By the way,” said Dave seriously, “does it occur to you to wonder what will happen if Flagg does happen to get there first and collar the platinum?” “It doesn’t,” replied Tempest. “I know. It is a case of ‘finding’s keepings.’ The first party to grab that treasure has just as much right to it, legally, as he has to his own bank balance. That is why we are not going to stop to gather daisies on the way. As a matter of fact, if only we can find our way without wasting too much time, Mr. Flagg won’t have had a chance to do much by the time we arrive on the scene; and then there is likely to be some fun.” “_Fun!_” Dave exclaimed. “Well,” said Tempest, “as the heads of nations put it, we shall have ‘severed diplomatic relations.’ In other words, if we find Joe Flagg picking the bones of the old _Hatteras_, the fat will be in the fire.” “It was a mean trick,” Dave commented, gloomily. “Oh, cheer up!” Tempest laughed. “It’s all in the game. If you will come treasure-hunting you must be prepared to hit a snag or two, or a head or two if necessary. I’m rather looking forward to hearing what he has to say on the subject.” A little wisp of spray shot over the side as the _Nautilus_ plunged before the wind, which was increasing as the night wore on. “That’s right, blow!” said Tempest, hanging on to the tiller and gripping the stem of his pipe hard with his teeth. “I’d hate a dead calm just now.” “It looks like a dirty night,” said Dave. “Well, we can’t wash it,” the other replied, grinning. “It’s ‘neck or nothing’ now. There is no turning back for us, and I give you my word it will have to be a lot dirtier than this before Flagg shortens sail or tries to take shelter. He has a pretty fair idea now that the hounds are at his heels. Isn’t she a peach in a strong wind, eh?” The _Nautilus_ was certainly acquitting herself most creditably. She careened over under the pressure of wind, but shipped nothing except flying spume. “I only hope that mast isn’t rotten,” Tempest said, glancing upwards. “We should be properly in the soup if that snapped.” “Are you thinking of taking in a reef?”