But it was a vain undertaking for us to attempt to catch him. Out
of his inner consciousness he had evolved a boat that was better
than ours. And though Charley sailed fully as well, if not the
least bit better, the boat he sailed was not so good as the
Greek's.

"Slack away the sheet," Charley commanded; and as our boat fell off
before the wind, Demetrios's mocking laugh floated down to us.

Charley shook his head, saying, "It's no use. Demetrios has the
better boat. If he tries his performance again, we must meet it
with some new scheme."

This time it was my imagination that came to the rescue.

"What's the matter," I suggested, on the Wednesday following, "with
my chasing Demetrios in the boat next Sunday, while you wait for
him on the wharf at Vallejo when he arrives?"

Charley considered it a moment and slapped his knee.

"A good idea! You're beginning to use that head of yours. A
credit to your teacher, I must say."

"But you mustn't chase him too far," he went on, the next moment,
"or he'll head out into San Pablo Bay instead of running home to
Vallejo, and there I'll be, standing lonely on the wharf and
waiting in vain for him to arrive."

On Thursday Charley registered an objection to my plan.