"And see that little hole in the sail. That's where the bullet went through." Spike and I dropped into the cock-pit, and crouched below the seats. Spike hurriedly told his brother to do the same. "N-N-No, I g-g-guess I'm better off right here. He'll have to d-d- drill through b-both s-sides of the 'G-G-Grasshopper',--I m-mean the 'H-Hoppergrass' before he can hit m-me. I'm afraid B-B-Brother S-S-Snider is f-f-forgetting to be g-g-good!" And then we could hear him quoting Mr. Snider. "'It's the w-way to b-b-be h-happy, F-F-Frederick, and s-s- successful, and R-RICH. D-D-Did you ever hear of Abraham P. F-F- F-Fillmore, F-F-Frederick?'" There was an interval--not a very pleasant one--while we waited for Mr. Snider to try another shot at us. "Here's the wind!" said Spike, suddenly; "climb aboard!" Spook crawled into the "Hoppergrass" just as we felt the first cool gust against our faces. A cloud blew across the sun for an instant. The boom swung out with a rattle and a bump, the sail filled, and the "Hoppergrass" heeled over to the breeze. It was only a light puff, and it did not last long, but it was enough to get us under way once more. Spike and I took a peek toward Mr. Snider's boat. They were getting up their sail, so Spike jumped up on the seat again. He was in danger there, if they should fire again, but as he said, he could not sail the boat while he was crouched on deck. The dory's sail went up in a jiffy, and again the wind seemed to favor them, for they pulled up on us rapidly. We were sailing, but by no means as well as at first. The Professor was steering their boat, I thought, but it was impossible to be sure. Both men kept almost entirely out of sight. Then we caught the breeze again. It was puffy and uncertain,--the forerunner of a squall. "We'll say good-bye to 'em now," exclaimed Spike, gleefully. "B-But we won't sh-shake that yacht s-s-so easy,--l-look at 'em! H-Hoisting a j-j-jib, d-d-d-dod r-rabbit 'em!" We had forgotten the other boats, in our excitement over the dory. Spike looked back over his shoulder. "This seems like persecution to me," he remarked. "One trouble after another. No chance to put any more sail on this boat," he added. "And no sail to put," said I. "Look! They're setting a spinnaker, too! Now they'll come!" We saw the long boom run out, waver, and settle into place. Then there bulged out upon it a great mass of canvas that made the jib look like a handkerchief. The yacht simply tore through the water. Any hope of keeping ahead of her for ten minutes was absurd. She was really trying to catch us now, and she was doing it. She grew in size every second, an overwhelming cloud of canvas,--a fine sight on the darkening water. "T-T-Tack!" exclaimed Spook, "she c-can't s-sail into the wind with that s-spinnaker!" "What's the good?" growled Spike, "she can sail all round this boat, just with her mainsail and jib."