He and I went below, and brought up some things to eat. We were well out in the Bay now,--Rogers's Island was only a dim blue spot astern. We ate luncheon, and discussed where we should go. I was trying to make them see that it would be safe enough to sail over to Lanesport, when Spook paused, with a banana raised toward his mouth. "W-W-What's that b-boat?" he asked. He was looking straight ahead. Both Spike and I looked under the boom and saw the sail of a yacht about a mile away. She was headed directly for us. "Oh, some boat,--or other," said Spike, nibbling at a jam-covered cracker, which Spook had fixed for him. "L-L-Let's ch-change our c-course a b-bit,--she m-may be f-full of p-p-persons with pup-pup-pitchforks." "Rats!" remarked Spike. But he shifted the course, just the same. We drew away from the strange yacht for about three minutes, and then,-- "Sh-She's c-coming about!" shouted Spook. She certainly was coming about. In a few seconds she was headed for us once again. "I d-don't know about you f-fellows, b-but I'll never b-be t-taken alive. It's those d-d-d-duffers from B-Bailey's Harbor again,-- they've p-probably got c-c-cannon on b-board this t-time!" Spike sat in silence, looking back at the stranger now and then. After about five minutes he said: "They're not gaining on us much." It was hard to tell whether they gained or not. As far as I could see there had not been any change in the distance between us since the other boat came about. There was a good breeze and both boats were now running before it. "L-Let's c-clear away this g-g-grub,--we want r-room to r-repel b-b-boarders." "We won't have to repel them," said I, "they can't catch us." "If they do," replied Spike, "they'll only get aboard this boat through a perfectly murderous fire of raspberry jam." "R-Raspberry j-j-jam d-doesn't r-repel b-b-boarders," said Spook, hustling the dishes below, "h-h-half as m-m-much as s-s-stewed p-p-prunes." He stopped, with his head out of the cabin door. "S-S-Say!" he exclaimed, pointing, "isn't th-that another b-boat?" There was another boat, certainly,--a sail had appeared some distance behind the yacht we had first sighted. "They're not chasing us," remarked Spike; "somebody's chasing them!" "What makes you think anybody is chasing anybody?" I asked. "They may be just out for a sail. Anyone would think there was a war going on here in Broad Bay." "Th-There's b-b-battle, m-murder, and s-s-sudden d-death g-g- going on for us,--at B-Bailey's Harbor. And l-l-look! B-By J-J-J- Jiminy Kuk-Kuk-Crickets! There's another b-boat!" "Oh, they're all probably pleasure boats, like this one." "D-D-Do you c-c-call this a p-p-pleasure b-boat? S-Seems to m-me the 'H-Hoppergrass' is b-becoming a b-b-burden, like the one in the B-Bible." "Just the same," said Spike, looking back uneasily, "this last one has come from Rogers's Island, I should think. Do you suppose it is Snider and the other man? Did they have a boat?"