"The thing of it is, they may change their plans, especially if they think your brother overheard their talk," put in the police sergeant. "My idea is, they'll keep right on down the coast until the darkness hides them from us. Then they'll try to sneak in some cove or river and abandon the boat." "They'll have a job taking Dora Stanhope along," was Sam's remark. "I don't believe she'll go another step willingly." "As if she has gone willingly!" said Dick. "Well, I mean she'll be more on her guard than she was, and they'll have more of a job to make her go along." Night settled down gradually and found every heart full of serious speculation. Dick was especially affected, for he had hoped to see Dora rescued hours before. "Goodness only knows where they will take her by morning!" he groaned. "I'd give almost anything to be at her side!" With the going down of the sun the wind died away and the sails of the _Searchlight_ flapped idly to and fro. "Now it's a waiting game," announced Martin Harris. "If we can't move neither can they." "Just the same, the _Flyaway_ is turning out to sea!" cried Tom. "Now what can that mean?" "That may be only a blind," said Carter. "No, they are afraid of drifting on the sands," answered the skipper of the _Searchlight_. "I reckon we'll have to turn out, too," and he changed the course of the yacht. Darkness found both boats far out on the Atlantic and almost out of sight of each other. "This is maddening!" cried Dick. "Can't we row, or do something?" "Rowing wouldn't count much, I'm afraid," laughed Martin Harris. "But don't fret. Unless I am mistaken, we'll have a breeze before midnight." "And they may be out of sight long before that time!" "That's to be seen, lad. I'll watch the thing closely, for I'm as anxious to catch 'em as you are." "I'd give a good deal for a small boat." "So would I." "I thought all yachts carried them." "They do generally, but mine was stove in at a Catskill dock about a week ago and is being repaired." "Here comes the wind!" shouted Sam, half an hour later, and when the _Flyaway_ was almost out of sight. "Now, Harris, let us make the most of it." "We will, and I hope there isn't too much of it," was the quick reply. Soon the breeze struck them, and, as it came from shore, it hit the _Searchlight_ first and drove her fairly close to the other yacht. But before anything could be said or done, the other craft also moved; and then the chase began as before. "We're getting all we want now," announced Tom, as the wind grew heavier. "Just look how the yacht dips her nose into the brine!" "We'll have to shorten sail before long," said Martin Harris. "If we don't, a sudden gust might make us lose our stick." "I'd like to see the _Flyaway_ lose her mast!" cried Tom. "It would just serve the Baxters right if they went to the bottom."'