“Perhaps the savage had something to do with Wilson’s disappearance?” suggested the scientist; but Haverly shook his head. He was busy trying to figure out the puzzle, which as yet defied him. “I allow it beats me,” he admitted at length. “What brings the engineer so far from the coast?” “He may not have been here at all,” Seymour replied. “I guess this handkerchief ain’t walked here!” “What about the savage?” persisted the baronet. “You can gamble on it as he picked it up. Say, has it struck you as bein’ kinder peculiar that we should find the nose-rag in this yer valley?” “You mean?” interrogatively. “Have the vampires had anything to do with it?” “Heaven forbid!” cried Seymour; “the thought’s too horrible!” “We shall see,” the Yankee answered as they moved on again. CHAPTER XVII. A DUEL TO THE DEATH. TO return to Garth and the engineer. For a few seconds they could do naught but gaze helplessly at the approaching monster; then all the fighting spirit of the inventor rose, and he prepared to resist to the death, if need be. Darting out on deck, he cast off the mooring-rope, bellowing the while to Wilson to start the engines. Within three minutes of the appearance of the great fish-lizard, the _Seal,_ passing close to the towering side of the brute, flashed seaward at her topmost speed. And now began a chase in the like of which Garth had never taken part before. With all his skill at the wheel he could but barely keep the _Seal_ away from her monstrous enemy. The reptile seemed bent on the destruction of the craft this time. He spared no effort to overtake her. Perhaps his previous failure had rendered him the more furious? With every plate on his body gleaming with a brilliant, phosphorescent light, he swept on. His breath hissed through his gaping nostrils like steam from the escape valve of an engine, and his mighty paddles were buried beneath a smother of foam. Swiftly he overhauled the flying vessel, until he was almost alongside; then, swift and sure, he snapped at the _Seal’s_ rail. Quickly as Garth turned the faithful craft, he was a moment too late. The great fangs closed upon the polished steel bar, and, with a jerk that almost overturned the boat, a six-foot length of rail was torn bodily from its boltings. The narrowness of the escape brought the sweat pouring from the inventor’s body. Apparently the shock had not injured the saurian, for he swept on again in pursuit, giving utterance to a booming roar as he advanced. A dangerous gleam came into Garth’s eyes as he noted the grim persistency of the monstrous reptile. Staving off a second attack of the brute by a quick turn of the wheel, the inventor took down the tube. “Stand by to reverse her when she strikes,” he cried. “I’m going to ram the brute.” “Be careful!” warned Wilson in return, and then Garth dropped the tube.