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It took Streak two hours to descend the slope leading down into the basin, and when once horse and rider were down, Sanderson dismounted and patted Streak's moist flanks. "Some drop, eh, Streak?" he said. "But it didn't fool us none. We knowed it was some distance, didn't we? An' they ain't foolin' us about the rest of it, are they? The Drifter said to head toward the Big Peak.
The motor of Tom's boat was in perfect order, and even an amateur, with some knowledge of a boat, could make it do nearly its best. On the other hand, the RED STREAK's machinery needed "nursing." Again, the thieves had a good start, and that counted for much. But Tom counted on two other points. One was that Happy Harry and his gang would probably know little about the fine points of a motor.
I know too well what will follow on the fourth or fifth. Watch." "Straight to the pin," said Pickings in a loud whisper. "You've got a dead line on every shot to-day. Marvelous! When you get one of your streaks, there's certainly no use in my playing." "Streak's the word," said Booverman, with a short, barking laugh. "Thank heaven, though, Pickings, I know it!
"I do, you darned ol' Piute," shouted Reeves joyously. "I never will forget how the sky pilot's coat-tails spread. You could 'a' played checkers on 'em. D'you reckon we'd ought to send a wreckin' crew after Melancthon T. Browning?" "Why, no. The way he was clamped to that Blue Streak's back you couldn't pry him loose with a crowbar." "Here he c-comes now," Blister announced.
And they say he has dealings with the devil and Bonaparte and all the big merchants in Havre and Cherbourg. But of late he's gone in for privateering, and the streak's growing a fat one, I can tell you. He's got the finest schooner in these waters, and, ma fé, broth and soup are both alike to him, I trow! Oh yes, he can see through a fog, can Monsieur Torode."
Teale had escaped and the Morleys had accompanied him. "Well!" said Sally Taber to Cynthia; "I 'spect Mart Morley had to get his livin' somehow. The yaller streak's got the best of him." Cynthia made no reply. Oddly enough in her fancy she was gazing upon the portrait of "The Biggest of Them All." Martin Morley slept, in the clean loft over Marcia Lowe's living-room.
Thus he still had an hour to stand watch before awakening the nest man. He placed the watch is a pocket, shook the reins over Streak's neck and spoke to him. "Seems like old times to be ridin' night-watch, eh, Streak?" he said.
When he had approached as far as he safely could without endangering his own life and that of Streak, he dismounted at the bottom of a small hill, trailed the reins over Streak's head and, carrying his rifle, made his way stealthily to the crest of the hill. There, concealed behind an irregularly shaped boulder, he peered at the combatants.
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