silk-draped arm through his. He smiled down at her, a tender smile
tempered with uneasiness, and then bent his head and kissed her.

"Do you think they will overtake us, Donald?" she asked at length.

"That depends on the wind," he answered. "If these light airs hold they
_may_ overhaul us, because they can spread so much more cloth. But if
the westerly freshens--and it nearly always does in the afternoon--I can
outsail the _Gull_. I can drive this old tub full sail in a blow that
will make the _Gull_ tie in her last reef."

"I don't like it when it's rough," the girl said wistfully. "But I'll
pray for a blow this afternoon."

If indeed she prayed--and her attitude was scarcely prayerful, for it
consisted of sitting with one hand clasped tight in her lover's--her
prayer fell dully on the ears of the wind god. The light airs fluttered
gently off the bluish haze of Vancouver Island, wavered across the
Gulf, kept the sloop moving, but no more. Sixty miles away the mouth of
the Fraser opened to them what security they desired. But behind them
power and authority crept up apace. In two hours they could distinguish
clearly the rig of the pursuing yacht. In another hour she was less than
a mile astern, creeping inexorably nearer.

The man in the sloop could only stand on, hoping for the usual afternoon
westerly to show its teeth.

In the end, when the afternoon was waxing late, the sternward vessel
stood up so that every detail of her loomed plain. She was full
cutter-rigged, spreading hundreds of feet of canvas. Every working sail