“Bud! Look!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Landis-Jerry Landis! His name is down here on the list of entrants!”
Bud bent over Tom’s shoulder to see for himself. “Well, I’ll be a jumpin’ jet jockey!”
In reply to the girls’ puzzled queries, Tom told them about Landis’ helicopter descent and the subsequent theft of the blaster plans.
“If this Mr. Landis was in on the crime, you certainly should come with us,”
said Phyl. “You might find him sailing on the lake.”
“Hey, that’s an idea!” exclaimed Bud.
“Smart girl, Phyl.” Tom smiled admiringly. “Okay, you’ve sold me. Let’s go!”
In Bud’s convertible, the four young people were soon on their way to the Shopton Yacht Club on Lake Carlopa.
The Mary Nestor was moored in the club’s boat basin. She was a graceful craft with a gleaming hull and sleek lines.
As they hoisted sail and got under way, Tom set-PURSUIT ON THE LAKE 85
tied himself in the cockpit and prepared *o scan the lake with his field glasses.
It was a perfect day for sailing, with a hot sun sparkling down on the water, and a brisk, spanking breeze. The lake was dotted with sailboats, skimming across the blue, like graceful white sea birds.
As Bud handled the tiller, Tom, with his glasses, studied the occupants of every craft that came into view.
Suddenly he lowered the field glasses and turned to Bud.
“See if you can overhaul that boat I’m pointing to. She keeps pulling away from us every time we get within viewing distance, and the man at the tiller avoids looking in our direction.”
Without seeming to have any particular objective in mind, Bud attempted to overtake the boat Tom had indicated. But whenever the Mary Nestor showed signs of closing in, the other boat would quickly sail out of range.