"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 forged ahead much faster.
"Why, at this rate they 'll have us in no time!" he cried.
French Pete laughed. "You t'ink so? Bah! Dey outfoot; we outpoint. Dey
are scared of ze wind; we wipe ze eye of ze wind. Ah! you wait, you see."
"They 're traveling ahead faster," 'Frisco Kid explained, "but we 're
sailing closer to the wind. In the end we 'll beat them, even if they
have the nerve to cross the bar--which I don't think they have. Look! See!"
Ahead could be seen the great ocean surges, flinging themselves skyward
and bursting into roaring caps of smother. In the midst of it, now rolling
her dripping bottom clear, now sousing her deck-load of lumber far above
the guards, a coasting steam-schooner was lumbering drunkenly into port.
It was magnificent--this battle between man and the elements. Whatever
timidity he had entertained fled away, and Joe's nostrils began to dilate
and his eyes to flash at the nearness of the impending struggle.
French Pete called for his oilskins and sou'wester, and Joe also was
equipped with a spare suit. Then he and 'Frisco Kid were sent below to
lash and cleat the safe in place.
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