board of her,
thinking that at last his time had come, gave one wild yell, ran on deck,
and leaped overboard. In the confusion of the collision, and while they
were endeavoring to save him, French Pete and the boys slipped away into
the night.

The _Reindeer_ had already disappeared, and by the time Joe and 'Frisco
Kid had the running-gear coiled down and everything in shape, they were
standing out in open water. The wind was freshening constantly, and the
_Dazzler_ heeled a lively clip through the comparatively smooth stretch.
Before an hour had passed, the lights of Hunter's Point were well on her
starboard beam. 'Frisco Kid went below to make coffee, but Joe remained
on deck, watching the lights of South San Francisco grow, and speculating
on their destination. Mexico! They were going to sea in such a frail craft!
Impossible! At least, it seemed so to him, for his conceptions of ocean
travel were limited to steamers and full-rigged ships. He was beginning
to feel half sorry that he had not cut the halyards, and longed to ask
French Pete a thousand questions; but just as the first was on his lips
that worthy ordered him to go below and get some coffee and then to turn
in. He was followed shortly afterward by 'Frisco Kid, French Pete remaining
at his lonely task of beating down the bay and out to sea. Twice he heard
the waves buffeted back from some flying forefoot, and once he saw a sail
to leeward on the opposite tack, which luffed sharply and came about at
sight of him. But the darkness favored, and he heard no more of it--perhaps
because he worked into the wind closer by a point, and held on his way
with a shaking after-leech.

Shortly after dawn, the two boys were called and came sleepily on deck.
The day had broken cold and gray, while the wind had attained half a gale.
Joe noted with astonishment the white tents of the quarantine station on
Angel Island. San Francisco lay a smoky blur on the southern horizon,
while the night, still lingering on the western edge of the world, slowly
withdrew before their eyes. French Pete was just finishing a long reach
into the Raccoon Straits, and at the same time studiously regarding a
plunging sloop-yacht half a mile astern.

"Dey t'ink to catch ze _Dazzler_, eh? Bah!" And he brought the craft
in question about, laying a course straight for the Golden Gate.

The pursuing yacht followed suit. Joe watched her a few moments. She held
an apparently parallel course to them, and