But as the squire evidently had his doubts in the matter, owing particularly to the fact that he was not too much at ease himself, his response was rather faint; and the captain was left to the entertainment of his own society. He enjoyed himself for the next hour or two with a sort of monologue, in which he proceeded to analyze audibly the relative chances of the little yacht ahead and the _Nancy Jane_. “They are doing surprisingly well for a small craft in windward work,” he muttered. “They handle her well. Still, the _Nancy Jane_ is eating up on them. I say about sundown we shall be able to run alongside—Hulloa! If they are not changing their course to run down the Little Reach! Thought they knew better than that. Why, it’s what they call a ‘blind alley’ in the cities. Well, I’m surprised. They know the bay pretty well, too; and, only to think, they go to running in to a thoroughfare which really is nothing more than a long cove. They’ll fetch up at the end of it in an hour or two, and there’s no way out.” The captain’s voice almost seemed to express disappointment that the chase should end so tamely. “Colonel,” he cried. “Squire. It will be all over in a few hours now. They’re running into a trap.” But the colonel and the squire were beyond interest in the pursuit. The yacht _Spray_ had, indeed, started its sheets, and now, with the wind on its beam, was running off toward a group of small islands, or ledges, on a course nearly at right angles with that which it had been taking. The boys had watched the _Nancy Jane_ anxiously for the last few hours. “They are steadily coming up on us,” George Warren had said. “Too bad we could not have got a few hours more start. We might have given them the slip then when night shut down.” “But we are not sure that they are after us, are we?” asked young Joe. “No, but it looks pretty certain,” replied his brother George. “There’s nothing particular to start the _Nancy Jane_ down here, and she is Captain Sam’s boat and he is the town constable.” “Then what had we better do?” queried Tom. “There is not much use running away, if we are sure to be caught inside of a few hours. We’d a sight better turn about and start back, as though we had finished our sail. That would look less like running away.” It was noticeable that, having once set out to escape, they accepted the situation now fully, without more pretence. “We have got to decide before long,” said Henry Burns. “The _Nancy Jane_ is overhauling us fast.” “George,” said Arthur Warren, “I know one chance, if you want to try it, and if you are willing to risk the _Spray_,—and I think it would save us.” “What is it, Arthur?” asked George. “If it is any good, I’m for trying it. I can’t see as we have anything great to risk, with a twenty-five thousand dollar fire charged to us.”