He felt a thrill of satisfaction as he saw how the launch was cutting through the water, faster than at first. “She’s getting the hang of it,” he muttered. “Hope she won’t run us down. I can’t do much dodging with about a hundred and seventy pounds of Joyalita prince on my back. Whew! He gets heavier every second.” In another minute he saw there was no doubt about the outcome of the race. The launch was gaining rapidly. The man in the bow of the skiff recognized this fact, and he was swearing in Spanish with such gusto that it might be wondered where he had learned so many oaths. “He’ll have to swear in another tongue if he keeps on,” laughed Nick. “The Spanish language won’t be rich enough for him much longer. Why doesn’t he give us a few of those in English? Or in Chinese? That’s a language with good profane possibilities.” If it may seem strange that Nick Carter could laugh under such circumstances, let it be said that it was the way of the detective to enjoy himself when things were coming his way, no matter how great might be his peril. It was his disposition to see the humorous side even of a very serious situation that accounted for much of his success. “Marcos!” called out Claudia. “All right!” responded Nick. “Come along! Look out you don’t run us down!” “Thank Heaven!” she gasped, with unmistakable fervor. The girl had learned a great deal about the launch even in the short time in which she had been guiding it from shore, and it was with considerable skill that she reduced its speed now, preparatory to running alongside of the two men in the water. When she had been talking about the resemblance of Nick Carter to Prince Marcos, she had mentioned the fact that their voices were so much alike that it would be easy for one to be mistaken for the other. Now, when Nick called out to her to come on, in response to her cry of “Marcos!” she supposed it was her cousin calling. “Here, Marcos!” she said, as she came near. “Climb into the boat. I’ll hold it as still as I can.” “I’m afraid we shall have to lift him in, Miss Solado,” suggested Nick. “He isn’t able to help himself!” “Oh, Mr. Carter!” she replied. “Is it you I am talking to? But you have my cousin--haven’t you?” “Yes. He’s here. But he is not quite as well as he might be. Steady! Keep the boat where it is, and we can get him in. Never mind about that man in the rowboat. He can’t get to us in time. Let him blow.” The gruff-voiced man had never ceased his torrent of profanity and threats. They came rumbling across the water as violently as ever. In fact, they increased now that he saw there was a boat by the side of the swimmer and his charge. “Stop, Marcos!” he bawled. “You’d better, if you know what is to your advantage. We won’t stand any more of this nonsense.” “Let him talk!” said Nick Carter, in a low tone, to the girl. “Can you get hold of Marcos’ shoulder? That’s right! Catch him by the coat lapel and pull, just as I give him a heave!”