Cara, discomfited, turned her black eyes to the sea. But it seemed empty
as before, no sail, no ship on the horizon line, only a little schooner
slowly beating out of the Gate. Ah, well! It no doubt was there,--that
sail,--though she could not see it; how keen and far-seeing his
handsome, honest eyes were! She heaved a little sigh, and, calling Lucy
to her side, began to make her way homeward. But she kept her eyes on
the semaphore; it seemed to her the next thing to seeing him,--this man
she was beginning to love. She waited for the gaunt arms to move with
the signal of the vessel he had seen. But, strange to say, it was
motionless. He must have been mistaken.
All this, however, was driven from her mind in the excitement that she
found on her return thrilling her own family. They had been warned that
a police boat with detectives on board had been dispatched from San
Francisco to the cove. Luckily, they had managed to convey the fugitive
Franti on board a coastwise schooner,--Cara started as she remembered
the one she had seen beating out of the Gate,--and he was now safe from
pursuit.
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