now found himself placing a higher
personal value upon his sister and his chums and friends. He had never
appreciated them properly, he thought, but henceforth--well, there would
be a different tale to tell.

The voice of French Pete hailing them put a finish to the conversation,
for they both ran on deck.

CHAPTER XVII

'FRISCO KID TELLS HIS STORY

"Get up ze mainsail and break out ze hook!" the Frenchman shouted. "And
den tail on to ze _Reindeer_! No side-lights!"

"Come! Cast off those gaskets--lively!" 'Frisco Kid ordered. "Now lay on
to the peak-halyards--there, that rope--cast it off the pin. And don't
hoist ahead of me. There! Make fast! We 'll stretch it afterwards. Run aft
and come in on the main-sheet! Shove the helm up!"

Under the sudden driving power of the mainsail, the _Dazzler_ strained
and tugged at her anchor like an impatient horse till the muddy iron left
the bottom with a rush and she was free.

"Let go the sheet! Come for'ard again and lend a hand on the chain! Stand
by to give her the jib!" 'Frisco Kid the boy who mooned over girls in
pictorial magazines had vanished, and 'Frisco Kid the sailor, strong and
dominant, was on deck. He ran aft and tacked about as the jib rattled aloft
in the hands of Joe, who quickly joined him. Just then the _Reindeer_,
like a monstrous bat, passed to leeward of them in the gloom.

"Ah, dose boys! Dey take all-a night!" they heard French Pete exclaim, and
then the gruff voice of Red Nelson, who said: "Never you mind, Frenchy. I
taught the Kid his sailorizing, and I ain't never been ashamed of him yet."

The _Reindeer_ was the faster boat, but by spilling the wind from her sails
they managed so that the boys could keep them in sight. The breeze came
steadily in from the west, with a promise of early increase. The stars were
being blotted out by masses of driving clouds, which indicated a greater
velocity in the upper strata. 'Frisco Kid surveyed the sky.

"Going to have it good and stiff before morning," he said, "just as I
told you."

Several hours later, both boats stood in for the San Mateo shore, and
dropped anchor not more than a cable's-length away. A little wharf ran
out, the bare end of which was perceptible to them, though they could
discern a small yacht lying moored to a buoy a short distance away.

According to their custom, everything was put in readiness for hasty
departure. The anchors could be tripped and the sails flung out on a