"Where's old Asa? I bet he's having a fit," said Beany, chewing comfortably.

"Look! Look!" said Beany suddenly, grasping his brother by the arm. "There at the door!"

Porky looked. "That's Asa," he said. "Who's he going off with— Beany, it's the Wolf!"



CHAPTER VIII

IN THE POWER OF THE WOLF

The Wolf, walking as though bent entirely on sightseeing, yet covering ground rapidly, led the way through the busiest part of the city, and into a quieter residential section, where he sat down on a bench just within a walled park. The Wolf was not conscious of his surroundings. He could only dwell on the fact that the boy at his side had recognized him, was following him. He did not doubt for an instant that the secret service had made use of this seemingly innocent and simple tool.

Asa sat silent under the Wolf's hand. He thought of his home. Little things occurred to him. Once he nearly giggled when he remembered how the collie played with the cat; and the Wolf, feeling his shoulders quiver, looked sharply at him. Asa thought of his father and the little dragged-out mother. He thought of the three thin, silent little sisters. They would miss him. He was so glad he had kissed them all that last night at home. It only went to prove what Colonel Bright had said. You were always glad afterwards. He was glad.

It was very dark as they walked slowly back to the entrance, the boys still stalking them. Outside the gate, the Wolf hesitated. As he looked, a small figure slipped from a shadow across the light, whistled a peculiar bar of music, and sidled up.

"Didn't expect to meet you here, Excellency," said the Weasel.

"What are you doing here?"

"Been working at the ammunition plants," said the little spy. "Wish you'd give me some money. I'm stone broke. Hello," as he spied Asa. "Where did you pick this up?"

"I'm taking him to the house," said the Wolf.

"Better let me have him, Excellency. I'll drop him somewhere where he will be out of the way.

"I'll take care of that," said the Wolf, snarling and sinking his steel fingers in Asa's shoulder.

The Weasel looked at the man in disgust. "Well, let me have some money, Excellency."

"What for?" demanded his master.

"I have worked hard all day. I want to have a little fun with it. I have earned it.

"Not a cent!" rasped the Wolf. "I know you, drinking and gaming—not a cent! For asking you shall go out and earn your supper."

The Weasel whirled round at him. "You give me some money!" he whispered. In the excitement of the moment he seemed to lose his voice.

He seized the Wolf's arm. With an oath the Wolf flung him away. He staggered and went headlong. The shock seemed to infuriate him. He leaped silently at the Wolf. There was a sudden flash of steel, and the Weasel turned with a spring, whirled, and went down in a heap. The Wolf, almost before he touched the ground, tightened his grasp on Asa, and dodged back into the park. Rapidly, through paths that seemed familiar, he gained another entrance, and emerged on a quiet street. Down this street he hurried the exhausted boy, turned suddenly into a basement where it was pitch dark, and rapped on the door. It was a peculiar rap, and reminded Asa of telegraphy. In a moment the door swung open, they entered, the Wolf fastened the door behind him, and for the first time since he caught Asa, he let go of his shoulder. He struck a match and let the blaze shine in his face. There was a queer grunt in the darkness. Without speaking, the Wolf clutched the boy once more, and led him up three flights of carpeted stairs, and into a huge room lighted by a couple of candles. It was the Wolf's den.

He flung Asa into a big, ragged chair, and, throwing his goggles and hat on the table, sat down opposite Asa, and lighted a cigarette. Then, reaching under the table, he pulled out a big square box on rollers, and unlocked it with a key which he wore on his watch chain. He took out a bottle and glass. Pouring a full portion, he drained it at a gulp. Another and another glass he emptied. The fiery liquid went to his head. A new look came over his face.

"I've got you, haven't I," he demanded of the boy. "I've got you, and this time I'm going to keep you!" He took another drink.

"How did you come to suspect who I was, you, little fool?" he demanded. "The day you came to see me in the Hospital and stood there saying, 'Oh, yes,' to everything I said—who put you on my track, eh? Somebody was smart—thought I would never notice a small boy, eh? ho did it?"

"Nobuddy put me on anybuddy's track," said Asa. "I just happened around every time."

"Of course!" said the Wolf. "Of course! You just happened a round. Funny, as you Americans say. And the letter in your pocket—it happens that I lost that letter through the idiocy of one of my servants. You happened to find that also, of course. Where did you find it?"

Asa was silent. He determined not to tell.

"Now I want you to tell me the whole thing. If you tell me everything, I shall give you a great sum of money and let you go. Won't that be fine?"

He paused again, looking keenly at Asa.

"Come, come!" said the Wolf. "I do not like to be kept waiting. You saw what I did to the little man down the street. I stabbed him. I am not afraid to tell you. I shall not stab you. Oh, no! You are a nice boy; you are going to tell me all about everything. That little man is dead now, quite dead. You would not like to be like that, would you? Well, you are going to get a lot of money, and go free, so you can have a nice time spending it. Come," he said in a level, patient tone. "Speak!"

Asa's pale, terrified eyes were fixed on his tormentor, but still he was silent. The Wolf took a twenty-dollar gold piece from his pocket and laid it on the table before the boy.

"Twenty dollars in gold," he said. He took other pieces like it from his pocket and piled them up. "Wealth!"' he almost whispered. "Did you ever have as much money as that?"

Asa shook his head.

The Wolf leaned confidentially forward.

"Now tell me all about everything," he said coaxingly. He studied Asa.

Asa studied him in return. Like a fascinated bird staring at a snake, he looked at the cold, glittering eyes, the browned face, the sear on the cheek. As he looked, the sear slowly turned white. It gave the effect of its springing out into plain sight.

He looked carefully all over the Wolf. It was as though he wanted to remember every little detail. The Wolf smiled.

"Curious about me, are you?" he said with a snarl, his smile fading away. "Well, if you won't speak, then I will have to talk. Now I want to know just who is tracking me, and just how much they think they know about me. And you are going to tell me everything."

Asa woke up. It felt to the tortured boy as though some cord in his heart or soul suddenly snapped and left him free. Asa, who had been always afraid to speak, was afraid no longer. Asa, who found speech difficult, spoke rapidly and violently.

"No, I ain't," he shrilled. "I ain't goin' to tell a word about nuthin'. And when I get out of here, I'm goin' to tell the first policeman I see about that little thin man you stuck the knife into. And I ain't afraid of you. Not a mite! I don't care what you do to me, I ain't goin' to tell!"

The scar stood out white as chalk.

"No?" said the Wolf. He took another drink, then with a sudden motion hurled Asa back in his chair and tied him there. Round and round the thin figure he twisted the rope, until Asa could not move a muscle. The Wolf propped the boy's feet up on a box, and took off his shoes. Asa watched him curiously. He remembered the wild Indian stories he had read. Was this going to be a trial by fire, he wondered. The Wolf lighted a huge cigar and smoked it until the end glowed red. Then he drew his chair close to Asa's feet. He showed him the cigar.

"That would hurt on your bare feet, wouldn't?" he asked silkily. "So much pain—and all because you want to be stubborn! Well, I have taught stubborn boys—and men—many times many times! So you had better tell me who suspects the Wolf."

A sound at the door caused him to turn. Ledermann entered.

"What's this, Excellency?" asked Ledermann. "Whom have we here?"

"A stubborn little boy," said the Wolf. "A stubborn little boy, who is going to think better of his course of action in just a few minutes, and who is then going to tell me ever so many things that I want to know."

Asa stared at the Wolf's wicked eyes and shivered. The Wolf turned away.

"What news to-night, Ledermann?" he asked.

"Adolph is dead for one thing," said Ledermann coolly. "He had one of his convulsions on the street, and it finished him."

"We were about through with him," said the Wolf heartlessly. He dismissed the subject. "What else?" he demanded.

"I have all the papers," answered Ledermann. "And as I could not get here until dark, I took a room in a safe little hotel where I would be undisturbed, and I made the copy for you." He handed over a tiny square of paper.

The Wolf carefully unfolded it. Then he laughed gleefully. "Fine; fine, Ledermann! This finishes our work."

He crossed his leg over his knee, took a peculiar looking wrench from his pocket, fitted it round the heel of his shoe, and turned it. The other man caught his arm, and spoke rapidly in German.

"What possesses you, Excellency; are you mad? This boy—"

"Bah! What does it matter whether I finish him now or an hour later?" he asked. "We can't let him go. I was obliged to punish the Weasel to-night and he saw it. It seemed to affect him unpleasantly. These American children know nothing of the value of discipline. He is going to tell me all he knows before I finish. The little rat—think of him defying me!"

The heel came off. Asa looked curiously. It was hollow and was neatly packed with papers like the one in the Wolf's hand. The Wolf turned out the precious packets, and looked them over carefully. Ledermann looked from the Wolf intent on his papers, to Asa, bound in the chair. He looked at the Wolf again. He swayed a little; the drinks had gone to his head just enough to make him unsteady and reckless. He had not intended to take so much; the Wolf was always careful; but to-night—well, the day had been a hard one, and the end was so near. For months he had been under a terrific strain—Ledermann shook his head.

"See how I trust you," said the Wolf in English, looking up from his papers, "I know you will never, never tell. Oh no, that would be impossible! Isn't that a fine little place to hide things?" he chuckled, and replaced the packets, screwed the heel in place, and stamped his foot on the floor. Then he turned to his bottle.

Ledermann had placed it beyond his reach.

"Give me that!" he demanded violently.

Ledermann obeyed.

The Wolf turned to him.

"Now, Ledermann, no fooling here; turn in all your accounts. Destroy everything that could give a clew to us. Pack the bombs in the vault under the cellar floor. We may come back some day, when we land with our men on the shores of Long Island." He turned away. "Go and pack. We must be away from here before dawn."

Ledermann shrugged his shoulders, looked curiously at Asa, then turned and left the room.

The Wolf got up, threw a few things in a small suit-case, arranged some papers, took off his coat, and stood looking at Asa. Directly behind him, against the wall, was a large, old-fashioned wardrobe. Its dark, heavy, walnut doors threw the lean, muscular figure of the Wolf out as though carved in granite. He took a step toward the boy, and rolled up his sleeves.

"Now, young man, I'll attend to you," he said.

Hope died in Asa's heart.



CHAPTER IX

TIMELY AID

When the Wolf, holding fast to Asa's shoulder, slipped into the shadows of the Park, Beany raced across the asphalt drive and knelt beside the little Weasel. He lay a crumpled, limp heap, and at first Beany thought him dead. There was a faint flutter, however, as Beany felt his heart, and, turning him gently over, Beany opened his shirt and uncovered the vicious looking wound where the Wolf's dagger point had entered.

Across the square, an auto stopped, and a familiar figure jumped out and looked around. Beany joyfully recognized his friend the Sergeant. He knew that they were hidden by the gateway post so he whistled. Hen came running toward him.

"Who's this?" he demanded.

"One of them," said Beany. He looked anxiously at the Weasel's ashen face. "The Wolf stabbed him. We have got to get him to a hospital."

"I'll get the car," said Hen, and was off like a flash.

They lifted the Weasel into the car and laid him back on the cushions; the boys rolled up the rugs, and their coats to prop him up. Again he opened his eyes.

"Don't start," he said feebly. "I must tell you something."

He turned his head toward Beany. "I know you," he said. "What made you leave the Wolf and the little chap? I saw you tracking them. You ought to have kept right after them."

"That was my brother," explained Beany. "We look just alike." He kept a careful hand on the wound.

"Let's get to a hospital," said Hen.

"Don't you move!" commanded the Weasel. "If you want to save that kid, the one with the Wolf, you have about half an hour to do it in. Don't mind me. He has done for me. I knew he'd get me, but I will bite yet. Tell him that, will you? Tell him the Weasel has bitten; bitten to the bone. Lift me a little," he asked, then continued brokenly:

"The Wolf is head of a system of spies in America. They have headquarters in Mexico, St. Louis and 'Frisco, as well as here. The Wolf is the head; he is master of them all. I don't know who he is. Nobody knows. They all call him Excellency or the Wolf. He has a submarine-base laid out on the coast of Long Island. There is a powerful wireless station in the attic of the house where we meet. That's where he has gone with that kid. He'll kill that kid. I know him! He is all ready to leave the country. That's why he did for me. He wants to shut us all up before he leaves—I'll fix him—I told him I'd bite."

He stopped, and breathed heavily.

"I'm going to drive lickity-split for the hospital," said Hen in a low tone to Beany.

"Don't you stir!" commanded the weak voice. "When you get to the house, go around back, and through the yard to the next house. There is an outside iron fire-escape on it. Go up that to the level of the roof of the corner house. It is a story lower than the house that has the fire-escape. There is a trap door in the middle of the roof. Lift that, and climb down the ladder into the attic. The wireless is there. If there is a man there working the wireless, shoot him. He will shoot you if he can. Got a revolver?"

"No," said Beany.

"Yes," said Hen at the same time.

"There are some stairs going down from the attic," continued the Weasel, his voice very weak. "Don't go down that way. Look in the end of the attic close to the big chimney. There is a pile of doors and lumber there, and behind it is a narrow stair. Go down that. It opens into a wardrobe in the Wolf's own den. You will find him there with the kid, if he is still alive. Take the Wolf anyhow. Don't kill him. I want him to know that I bit—" his voice trailed off.

"Would hot coffee help any?" asked Hen. "I have a thermos bottle full; but it's under that seat he's on."

Together they gently lifted the body of the Weasel, and succeeded in getting hold of the bottle of hot coffee. Hen poured a steaming portion into the cup, and with difficulty they forced it between the Weasel's lips. He swallowed a little, and presently opened his eyes.

"Close call," he said with a faint smile. He hurried on:

"The Wolf has enough information written down, up there somewhere, to defeat America," he said. "I don't know where it is, but it must be somewhere, where he can put his hand right on it. Search everything! Try every piece of blank paper for sympathetic ink. There is a secret room in the cellar full of bombs. They are to be left there, stored, until America is invaded. If you could only work that wireless—messages are coming in all the time the last three days—"'

"I can," said Beany.

"Then you will get some news sure. Do you speak German?"

"No," said Beany hopelessly.

"I do," said Hen.

"All right," said the Weasel feebly. "Remember, if he man is there, shoot to kill—shoot to kill!"

"I'd like to get the police," said Beany.

"They are sort of used to this."

"You will not save the kid," said the Weasel. "The Wolf will kill him at the first alarm. You can't make a sound. When you get down in the wardrobe, you will find a nail hole in the upper corner of the right hand door. I put that there, so I could watch the Wolf. I have meant to bite for a long while—" He trailed off, and nearly became unconscious. Then he gathered himself together. "Tell him I bit."

"Say!" said Hen suddenly. He put his face close to the drooping face of the Weasel. "Say, where's the house? You haven't told us where to go. We got to get a move on, I should say!"

"The house—the house," he said. "It's number,—it's corner of— it's number three hundred and one—"

"Gosh, this is awful!" said Hen. "Come, try to tell us! Three hundred and one—what?"

The Weasel made a mighty effort.

"Number three hundred and one—" His voice trailed off into silence.

"He's dead," said Beany.

"What shall we do?" said Hen. "He's not dead, but pretty close to it. We will have to get him to a hospital, and wait for him to give the street that house is on. That means the kid will be murdered before that time, I suppose. Gee, it's awful."

A taxi rounded the square, and stopped close to them. The driver got out.

"It's him!" said Hen. "I know that fellow." As the driver walked toward them, he recognized Hen.

"Hullo!" he said. "What's new?"

"Look here," said Hen. "We got to get this man to the hospital. A fellow came along and did for him."

"Great Scott!" said the driver, peering into the taxi, where the electric light shone on the huddled figure in Beany's arms.

A slight, boyish figure came running along the walk. It was Porky, out of breath, and excited.

"I thought you would have him safe in a hospital," he complained.

"He wouldn't let us," said Hen. "Say, I guess there's, no hope of saving that kid! This feller here told us all about everything, and how to got into the place and all, and then he fainted before he could tell where the house is."

"I know," said Porky. "I trailed them there. We will get this chap to a hospital, and get the police, and get the Wolf."

"Get nothing!" said Hen. He turned to the other driver. "Hop in here, and take this man to the nearest hospital. Say you picked him up in the park. They will arrest you probably, but we got something to do and it won't wait. That on! If they jug you, get word to Mr. Leffingwell."

Porky gave the address. Hen reached under the seat and from a hidden pocket brought out a small, wicked-looking revolver. "I will take your car," he said. He raced over, and started the engine. The boys followed, and tumbled in.

"Hi! Hi!" yelled Jim Morris, the taxicab driver. "What you doin'? You crazy! What do you want me to do?"

"Get that fellow into a doctor's hands quick as you can," said Hen.

"Then what?" demanded Jim. "You say tell Mr. Leffingwell. What am I to tell him? Of all the boneheads! What steer do I give him? Hey?"

"Bully for you!" said Porky, swinging out the door. "Tell Mr. Leffingwell we are on track of the Wolf. Remember the name. The Wolf. Don't say it to any one before you tell Mr. Leffingwell or you will be sorry for yourself. Ask him to get the secret service men, and call the police force and come to this address." He scribbled a street and number on a piece of paper.

"Say, why don't one of youse boys come and tell this yarn? I can see where I'm the goat!"

"Never mind!" cried Porky. "We'll be along some time or other, and bail you out."

Hen's mouth thinned down to a straight line as he started the car.

"Not too fast!" said Porky. "It is not far." He repeated the street and number. Hen made a quick turn and glided smoothly across a side street. Beany, looking behind, saw Jim Morris give a look after them, then start his car and dash off, the insensible figure of the Weasel swaying on the back seat.

He drove to the nearest hospital without the loss of a single moment's time. Round the monstrous building, with it's spreading maze of pavilions, he went through a court, and stopped at a doorway which opened directly on a large elevator.

He pressed a button, and a white-clad attendant appeared.

"Drunk?" he asked.

"Stuck!" said Jim briefly.

"Stabbed?" asked the attendant.

"'S what I said," retorted Jim, and almost before he could realize it, the unconscious Weasel, the attendant and himself were being smoothly carried to the emergency ward, far above.

The attendant motioned to Jim, and they went silently into an office where another man, also in while, sat at a desk, and took down in a big book the circumstances of the Weasel's arrival. He finished, then Jim saw him reach under the desk and press a button. Immediately the door opened, and a couple of heavily built men in plain blue uniforms entered. They read the entry in the big book, then looked searchingly at Jim.

"You are detained, Morris," said the taller of the two, "pending an examination into this affair." He took up the house telephone. Presently he turned. "The man is very badly hurt; perhaps dying. He is unconscious."

He nodded to Jim. "Come along," he said. "I'll have to keep you here awhile."

"That's all right," Jim said airily. "I wish I could send a telephone message. Don't see what harm there is in that."

"No, there's no harm in that," said the detective, "providing the person you wish to talk to is a decent sort."

"It's Leffingwell—Leffingwell who is Chairman of all the city committees," said Jim proudly. "Look up his number yourself."

The detective did so. Jim called and began speaking.

"Say, is this Mr. Leffingwell?" he asked. "No, I don't want no Timmons. I want Mr. Leffingwell."

Jim smiled wickedly into the receiver. "Well, say, young feller, I'm surprised you don't know me. This is J. P. Morgan speaking'. I want sell—Huh? Oh, y-y-yes, Sir. Why, yes, sir, Mr. Leffingwell. I thought I was talking to some fresh guy on the phone. Excuse me, Sir! Yes, sir! I have news for you. I'm here at the Park Hospital with a fare what got stabbed. No, sir, it's not a boy. He's a little thin man. I know where the boys is, and they want help. Yes, Sir! My car is right here, but I'm been' detained. Yes, sir, they won't let me go 'til the young feller gets better or croaks."

The detective cut in. "Does he want you to come there?"

"He sure does that!" said Jim.

The detective took the receiver. He told Mr. Leffingwell the circumstances.

He listened attentively. Then "Yes, sir," he said. "I will come right over with him."



CHAPTER X

BY WAY OF THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR

The boys will never know how long it took to drive to the street and number given them by the poor Weasel. Arriving at the corner where the old brown stone house stood looking the picture of desolation, with its closely boarded-up windows, its dusty steps and seedy doors, the boys passed down the side street and left the car in the shadow of the buildings there. They separated and hurried back to the house, one at a time. Slipping through the dense shadows in the weedy, cluttered-up back yard, a yard that had once been a trim garden with smooth paths and neat little hedges, as back yards were once in the olden days, they met under the iron fire-escape attached to the house next door. This building, much higher than the corner house, was used as a private sanitarium or hospital by one of the highest-priced specialists in the city. The fire-escape, therefore, was in perfect condition, and safe as such a spidery stairway could be made, with strong rails and good treads.

Porky whispered a word of command, and noiselessly the boys ascended. The night was pitch dark, but their eyes growing accustomed to the gloom, they made their way without a stumble. Reaching the place where the lower building met the taller one, they found they could not get from the stairway to the other roof. There was nothing for it but to go on up the remaining story, cross the roof of the building and drop down to the lower level. They tiptoed over the flat, pebbled roof, clung to the eaves, and one by one made the long drop in safety, the only damage being scratched and bruised palms as they sprawled on the rough roofing.

A glass skylight was set in the middle of the roof. They hurried to it and Hen, with a quick twist, worked it loose, and tipped it noiselessly back on the roof.

"Take off your shoes!" he whispered.

They felt their way down the rough ladder that led from the skylight to the attic, and stood motionless, scarcely breathing in the dense darkness.

Hen, who had the flashlight, feared to press the button. There was not a sound, save a little sputter which they rightly laid to the wireless machine which the Weasel had told them about. In a moment, (it seemed years) Hen decided that they must have light, even at the risk of discovery, and his flashlight illumined the room in which they stood. Immediately Porky pointed to the big chimney, and the pile of lumber stacked beside it. He touched the others, and led the way. They went noiselessly across the uneven floor, and reaching the boards, found, as the Weasel had said, a narrow opening in the floor.

As the three neared the bottom of the ladder, a scream, muffled and choked but full of agony, sounded close to them. The boys recognized that thin, boyish tone, even in its torture. They felt their hair rise on their scalps as they listened.

Quickly turning in the narrow, breathless space in which they found themselves, they saw a little star of light pierce the pitch blackness. It was the little peek hole made in the panel by the Weasel. Porky put his eye to the place. One instant he looked, and drew back as Hen pressed close. In turn they peered through the tiny hole. They shuddered as they did so. Then Hen, with all the caution he could summon, pushed open the door, and stepped out, covering the Wolf with a wicked-looking muzzle. The bound and gagged boy in the chair saw the strange group which had so suddenly and so mysteriously appeared, but for a moment the Wolf, who was standing with his back toward the wardrobe, was unaware of their presence. He was laughing—a cold-blooded, curdling, low laugh as he stooped toward the boy's bare feet, his lighted cigar in his hand. Already those feet were marred by cruel burns along the tender soles.

As he stopped, he watched his victim's eyes for a sign of surrender.

"Give me the names!" he demanded in his low snarling, smooth voice. He watched his victim's eyes and in them, suddenly, he saw a strange flash of hope, of amazement. Asa was looking over the Wolf's shoulder.

Without the least suspicion of the truth, the Wolf straightened up, and lazily turned. What lie saw wiped the sneering, malicious smile from his face.

Hen, his bulldog jaw set, held the revolver pointed straight at the traitorous heart.

"Hands up," barked Porky in a voice which seemed to come from some one else. He was not himself. The sight that had met his eyes, the bound figure, the blistered feet, the crouching Wolf with his low, fiendish laugh—it was all like a frightful electric shock to Porky, and in that horrible instant he came into his manhood. Behind him, at his shoulder, his twin brother went through the same agony of soul and he, too, felt a strange new thrill, an addition of courage and strength.

"Hands up!" said Porky again.

For a moment the sly eyes of the Wolf swept the room, then his hands were raised. He backed toward the table but a curt order from Hen, and he stood still.

"There's rope on that table," said Hen. "Get it and bind him."

Beany grabbed the rope, and bent to tie the ankles of the Wolf. Like a flash his hands came down, he seized the boy and clutching him in a vise-like grip, held him before him as a shield.

"Shoot if you like," he sneered, and backed rapidly toward the door. Hen followed, the useless pistol still pointed, but Beany's body covered the Wolf who, with the strength of ten, held Beany before him as he neared the door that would mean escape, and safety. He had almost reached it when a deafening noise sounded from below. There was the sound of a door being battered in, shots were fired, and shouts heard. For a second the Wolf faltered. For a second he was off his guard. In that second, Beany made a light, steel-muscled bound, swung his legs up and out, using the spy's breast as a brace, turned a somersault over his head, dropping to the floor behind him. It was so quick, so unexpected, that the Wolf could not keep his hold, and Beany dropped to the floor, crying, "Shoot!"

A revolver cracked, but it was in the Wolf's hand. Porky felt a sting as the bullet grazed his shoulder. Then Hen's weapon barked just once!

The revolver dropped from the Wolf's hand, a strange, blank look spread over his face, and he sank to his knees. Beany, flat on the floor behind him, jumped to his feet.

The door, which had been unlatched, swung violently open and for a second the face of Ledermann appeared, then flashed by as he saw the tableau, and dashed for the stairway to the attic and the roof. A dozen policemen ran in, three of them following Ledermann, at Porky's direction, while the others snapped the cuffs on the two men at the table, and tenderly took the cruel gag from Asa's parched and bleeding mouth, and untied him. Beany rushed up into the attic after the men who were pursuing Ledermann and as he reached the place, the call of the wireless caught his attention. He answered the call, and commenced to take down a long message.

Below, Porky and Hen knelt by the Wolf and turned him over. He still breathed, and Hen fumbled through his pockets for another revolver. He found instead a long, keen knife which he threw aside. Then, with Porky, he fell to watching the closed eyes of the spy. They opened, and the Wolf looked from one to the other with cold, unrelenting hatred. He did not speak.

"Buck up!" said Hen suddenly. His voice shook with excitement. "Say, you don't want to croak yet. I got to tell you: the Weasel said to tell you that he had bit. Understand? He has bit. See?" Hen paused with a look of satisfaction.

The Wolf, who was bleeding fearfully, slowly closed his eyes.

"That ends him," said Hen solemnly. "Gosh!"

A detective felt the heart of the wounded man.

"He's alive," he said. "Send an ambulance call, somebody."

Another detective raced down the stairs, while those who remained commenced to search the room for hiding places.

"I know where he's got some stuff hidden," Asa said thickly. "Take off his shoe; the other one," and someone did so. "Get that iron thing on the table," Asa continued, "and get the heel off."

The Chief had it done in a moment and the tiny squares of paper fluttered to the floor. The Chief picked them carefully up, and put them in his pocketbook as a wild clanging down below announced the coming of the ambulance. A couple of doctors came up, three steps at a time, and examined the Wolf. A bandage soon stopped the flow of blood, and, still unconscious, he was carried down the stairs. A detective picked Asa up and prepared to follow, but that young man stiffened, the way a spunky boy sometimes does, and slid through the man's arms. As he came to his feet, he let out a howl of pain, and went to his knees. But he was speaking.

"Not with him!" he cried hoarsely. "Not with him! I won't go in the ambulance with the Wolf! He'll come to yet and kill somebody, and he'll blame me for the whole thing. I'd rather stay here."

"All right," said the Chief. "You need not go in the ambulance. I will carry you down to the police car, and we will take you right over to Mr. Leffingwell's."

He picked Asa up in his arms and carried him downstairs and into the first car. There was quite a procession of them when they finally started, after leaving a heavy guard in the house, and very soon they pressed the button at Mr. Leffingwell's door, which was opened by Barton, the butler.

"'Ow! Bless my 'art!" said Barton, quite like a human being, and stepped back. It was Timmins who stepped forward; Timmins who took Asa and bore him into the living room where Colonel Bright, Mr. Leffingwell, John, his son, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter all rose to their feet, when Timmins walked in. Mr. Leffingwell would have another doctor; and while they waited five minutes for him (he was right in the building) Asa, suffering pretty badly, but not giving a sign of it, except for his twitching face, lay on the settee, with Timmins fixing his pillows some other way every second, and Barton off ordering a hot drink from the cook, who had taken a peek, and was crying out in the kitchen.

Nobody knew anything about what the boys had been through, but nobody asked a word; only Porky and Beany kissed their mother hard, and hugged their dad, and were pounded on the back by Mr. Leffingwell, who seemed to have a bad cold. When the doctor came, he ordered Asa straight to bed, and Timmins carried him off with the haughty Barton stalking in the rear, a glass of egg and milk in one hand and hot chocolate in the other.



CHAPTER XI

ORDERED OVER THERE

The Leffingwell cook had prepared a regular crackerjack—no, a Leffingwell dinner; and Mr. Leffingwell begged the boys to say little about their adventures until they had had something to eat. As they all sat down at the table, Porky and Beany looked back over the couple of centuries or so that had passed since breakfast, and decided that since they had not had time for anything at all since that remote period, it would be a good thing to sample a few of the good things urged upon them by Barton, the butler.

Presently, that is along about the third helping of everything there was, the boys commented to tell about their day's adventures. They had an attentive audience; an audience that forgot to eat or say "Dear me suz!" or smoke. And it seemed as though they wanted to hear everything over at least three times. And the boys were willing to tell.

Before the meal was finished, the doctor came quietly in. He had been to look at Asa and, finding him asleep under the effects of the quieting tablet he had given him, he came to report to Mr. Leffingwell that his young guest was doing well.

"It won't lame him permanently, will it?" asked Colonel Bright.

"No, no danger of that unless there should be some infection, and I am sure there will be nothing of the sort. I wonder, Mr. Leffingwell, if it is possible to keep the boy here for a few days or a week? I hate to have him moved. Your man Timmins says he was talking about going to his home to-morrow.

"Well, I should say not!" exploded Mr. Leffingwell. "Where is Timmins anyhow!"

"Sitting beside Asa," said the doctor. "Shall I call him?"

He tiptoed back to the boy's room, and in a moment returned, followed by Timmins, who stood just inside the doorway and looked inquiringly at Mr. Leffingwell.

"What's this, Timmins, about Asa's going home to-morrow? You get those fool notions out of Asa's head, and, Timmins, we will appoint you head nurse for a while. The lad seems to like you."

Timmins smiled and bowed. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" he said. And at that moment the ice-cream came in. That Leffingwell cook! The ice-cream was in the shape of little tents, with a silk flag sticking gayly out of the ridge pole of each.

The boys noted with satisfaction that the tents were good-sized. They gave their whole attention to the work in hand, and the others seemed secretly to agree to put aside the day's excitements for a space.

After dinner they followed Mr. Leffingwell to his den, where Mrs. Potter took out her knitting. She had a very large knitting bag, and it seemed full of balls of wool.

Colonel Bright noticed it. "Looks as though you were going into the knitting game wholesale."

Mrs. Potter smiled. "Not quite," she said. "I am making two complete sets for a couple of young men who are going into the service."

Porky felt of the soft, light yarn. "I say—that's pretty good of you, mom. Who are your lucky friends?"

"That reminds me of something," said the Colonel. "I know a couple of lads, about like Porky and Beany here, who have been crazy to go across. I have been watching them for some time, and have about made up my mind that they would be a real help to me over there, and not a hindrance. So I have been pulling wires, and making plans, and I think it looks as though I can take them with me. It's just about the job you boys were joking about wanting."

"No joke at all!" said Porky bitterly. "Oh, gee; now some one else has it!"

"Why, you don't mean that you really meant it?" said the Colonel. "I wish you had made it clear!"

"We couldn't have tried harder to make it clear unless we had hit you, Colonel," said Beany sadly.

"Well, that's too bad," said the Colonel. "These fellows are just about your age. Perhaps they seem older to me because they have had a lot of responsibility that has made them older. It's too bad."

"Never mind, Colonel," said Porky. "If the other fellows have fallen in luck, why, it's great for them. What, are you planning for them?"

"It's like this," said Colonel Bright, squinting up his eye as he puffed busily on his cigar.

"There's a lot of most important running around to do behind the lines in what is really a zone of safety: messages, and plans, and all that sort of thing, you understand, that have to be taken from one officer to another, and it seemed to me that it was better to have some one who knew that that was his whole job, and could give every minute to it, rather than depend on petty officers who were continually being ordered away. I thought it would save a lot of time and anxiety if I could have aides that were trained to just the service I required. So I reported the case to some of the big fellows in Washington, and they told me to go ahead. You see I've been in this army of ours so long that I suppose I have a sort of pull. Well, at any rate, that's how it is."

"And the fellows are going over with you?" asked Porky.

"It has the sort of look as though I was going with them, as it stands now. Of course orders are secret; but I would not be surprised if my men packed off in about a week. I have work in Washington, however, that may keep me there for another week at least, so I am to go over on a regular passenger boat, and the chaps I have spoken of will go with me."

"Gosh! What luck!" said Beany, looking at his brother. "Are they brothers?"

"They are related some way," said the Colonel, smoking at his cigar.

"Gosh! what luck!" said Porky, looking at Beany. "Always something to take the joy out of life!"

"You ought to be glad for 'em," said Mrs. Potter. "I declare, boys, I didn't know as there was a jealous hair in both your heads! How you do talk!"

"That's all right, mom," said Porky. "We are not jealous; only it was just exactly what we wanted to do, and it's a sort of jolt. Is that who the sweaters are for, mom?"

"Yes, I thought I might as well," said Mrs. Potter. She glanced at the Colonel. He was looking at his cigar. Mr. Leffingwell was staring at the ceiling. She glanced at Mr. Potter. His right eyelid quivered. "Yes," said Mrs. Potter, "Colonel Bright thought they might like to have them." She smiled at Porky and Beany—strange, soft, tender, sad, wonderful smile.

"Come, see if they are going to fit," she said.

Mr. Leffingwell blew his nose.

All the while that the preparations for the boys' journey went swiftly on, time, pain-filled and gloomy, dragged itself away in the two hospital rooms where the Wolf and the Weasel lay wounded. By carefully questioning his nurse, the Wolf, who was not so badly hurt as it was at first thought, found out that the Weasel was his next door neighbor. That question settled, the Wolf settled himself to the task of getting well. In a few days to the amazement of those attending him, he was able to sit up. They commenced leaving him alone for an hour or so at a time. Two days more, wrapped in a heavy bathrobe, he was lifted into a reclining chair, and allowed to look out of the window. How could the nurse guess that the moment she left, her helpless patient rose to his feet and falteringly at first, moved here and there about the room, stopping every moment or two to rest? When she returned she found him quietly seated, resting, as she had left him. He did indeed look tired and pale, so she hurried him back to bed. The next day and the next this was repeated. Then came his chance. His nurse was going to a lecture in the assembly room on the first floor. She would be gone a couple of hours.

She placed the Wolf in his chair by the window, looked at his bandages, set a bell beside him, and left a pile of magazines on the wide window sill at his elbow. Then, with repeated warnings to rest and not overdo, she left him.

As soon as he heard the last light pad-pad of the girl's rubber-heeled shoes, the Wolf stood up. He stood firmly. He tied the bathrobe about him and went to the door. There he waited, listening. All was quiet. He opened the door a little. As he did so, a nurse and a doctor came out of the Weasel's room, went slowly down the ball, and turned into a room at the corner. The Wolf listened more intently still, and went out into the hall. Between the room occupied by the Wolf and the one where the Weasel lay, there was a space. A table and a chair stood there. It was where the night nurse sat. On it was a writing tablet, pens, ink, and a couple of little bottles. One of them caught the eye of the Wolf. The blue color of the glass told him that it was a deadly poison even before lie read the label. He put it in his pocket.

Then he gently turned the handle of the door, and went in. For a moment he thought the room was empty. The shade at the window was drawn closed. The Wolf swept the room with a swift glance then his eyes rested on the bed.

Ah! Did you start then, ever so slightly, you cruel killer, you merciless destroyer? What good now is the blue vial in your pocket? Of what use the clenched fist, and writhing, clutching fingers? You have come too late, Wolf; you have lost your poor too! Look and look and look again at that peaceful bed. See how straight the sheet is and how decently it is drawn up. Go over, Wolf, and draw it down and see what it covers! Hurry, Wolf, because you have but little time to remain undisturbed! Already the nurse and doctor have finished making their report; already a narrow, white stretcher is being prepared.

For the last time in all your wicked life, black murder filled your heart, Wolf, but the Weasel has escaped you. The Wolf put the sheet back over the dead face of the Weasel and grating his teeth, stepped softly to the door. He slipped into the hall, but as he did so, he heard low voices, and instead of turning toward his own room, he went in the opposite direction where he saw a stairway. Unfortunately for him, the stairs led up instead of down. Slowly, silently, he climbed them; but not before he thought he heard a low exclamation from below. For some unforeseen reason the nurse and doctor had looked in the Wolf's room to see how he was getting on. The room of course was empty, and the Wolf knew a search would begin at once. How he cursed his fate that he was dressed only in his underwear and bathrobe! It would take a clever man indeed to escape in such garments. And escape he must. The Weasel was dead. He had killed him, and no one knew better than the Wolf that he would be made to pay the whole penalty. Adolph was dead, the Weasel was dead, Ledermann had jumped into the river to escape his pursuers and had drowned. And here was he, the Wolf, trapped-at bay. He slipped into the first door at hand. It was a large hall used for a gymnasium for the nurses. There were steps at the door. He looked about. There was not a place to hide. Hurrying to the window as fast as his feeble strength would permit, he raised the sash and looked out. There, outside the window, was a fire-escape. Without an instant's hesitation, he stepped out and placed his slippered foot on the narrow tread of the iron ladder. His head was swimming from weakness. He heard an exclamation from above and looked up.

For an instant he made out the faces of the nurse and doctor against the sky above him. Then the nurse disappeared, and the doctor stepped out on the sill. He was going to follow; the nurse had gone for help. There was one thing to do: hurry—hurry! Once more the Wolf looked up at his pursuer. He laughed his own sneering, cruel laugh. The ladder seemed to swing and sway dizzily. It was like being at the top of a tall mast in a heavy sea. He clutched the ladder. Then everything grew dark, guns boomed in his ears, his grasp loosened and the last long night and the last long silence wrapped him like a cloak.

The Weasel had bitten to the bone.

Crushed and mangled, they lifted the Wolf from the pavement five stories below, and taking him into the hospital once more for a little while, laid him in the chamber of death beside the stretcher where the Weasel rested with that new look in his face. But the nurse who had cared for the Weasel knew the manner of his going, and rolled his stretcher away across the room. She would not let him lie even in death beside the other.

The very next afternoon the telephone rang.

Mrs. Potter and Beany and Asa listened, while Porky said, "Yes, sir," a dozen times and "All right, sir," until Beany twitched with nervous excitement.

When he put up the receiver, everybody said, "Well?" at the same time.

Porky went over and kissed his mother. It was real easy to do, those days. A fellow wanted to kiss his mother.

"Well?" said everybody again.

Timmins hovered in the doorway.

"To-morrow," said Porky with a sort of solemnity.

No one spoke. Then "What time?" said Beany.

"Six o'clock, morning," answered Porky.

"You know, mom, there's no chance of our getting hurt," said Beany.

"How you do talk!" said Mrs. Potter. She did not look up, however. She was finishing the second sweater, and gave it her whole attention.

"Naw!" said Porky. "Not a chance in the world! We will be home before you know it, with a lot of good stories to tell you. Perhaps we will bring you some loot. Wouldn't you like something to remember the War by?"

"Just you look out for yourselves," said Mrs. Potter. "I'd like a couple of boys sent home safe and sound. That's what I'd like to remember things by." She stabbed the needles through her knitting and, rising, left the room. The boys looked after her. Beany made a move to follow, but his brother pushed him back.

"Let her alone," he said. "She likes to be brave."

That evening passed like lightning, although all the traps had been ready for days. Gladdis, the cook, had baked them a wonderful fruit cake, and Mr. Leffingwell came home with four new comfort kits and a portable typewriter for each one—a little typewriter that would go in one end of a suit-case.

Everybody seemed more than happy, quite noisy, in fact. There was not a moment when anybody felt the least bit—the least bit— well, you know! That is, not a moment except just at bedtime. Then Mrs. Potter came into the boys' room, and gave them each a little, thin package. She just handed it to them and kissed them goodnight, and went out.

"Let's see what they are," said Porky. There were two little leather cases. Inside were Mom Potter's pretty, motherly dear face, and pop's splendid, homely countenance. Porky jerked out the light.

The following morning, Mr. Leffingwell's car, crowded with the whole family, was the first to arrive at the station. The Potter boys wandered restlessly about until Colonel Bright, followed by his wife and daughter and a Japanese house-man loaded with rugs and bags, came breezing in with a hearty greeting for everybody.

Mr. Leffingwell bustled about, tipping everybody he could find to tip. Timmins and the elevator boy took Asa out on the platform and sat him on a truck where he could see everybody the very last minute. And all at once it was the very last minute; and somehow everybody had shaken hands and had talked loudly, and the boys had kissed their mother—a kiss to be remembered, and had swung on board. The train started. The boys strained for one last look at their parents. They thought they smiled.

Asa turned to Timmins.

"Gee, the light hurts a feller's eyes," he said.



CHAPTER XII

SUNDAY AT SEA

It seemed to the boys as though they could never tire of the novelty and charm of the open sea. By Sunday they had explored the perfect little ship Firefly from stem to stern. They had made friends with every man on board and were in the way of accumulating a strange assortment of facts from their new friends.

Sunday services, read by the grizzled old Captain, seemed very solemn and strangely touching. They were held on deck, where the rattling of shrouds and the soft lap of the water made a wonderful accompaniment to the familiar words of the prayer book. The boys could not help noticing that every man listened closely and respectfully. They joined in the responses, and sang lustily when it came time for the hymns.

The Captain did not read a sermon. Instead he closed the book, and for a short five minutes spoke to the men simply, clearly, and to the point. Then there was one more song. Services do not usually end with it; but as the sound rose, the boys thrilled and chilled with patriotism. It was "My Country, 'tis of thee" and those men roared it from the depths of their big, honest, loyal hearts.

When the group scattered, Porky and Beany went forward and stood looking into the distance that bid their Great Adventure. That the Adventure was at that moment approaching, drawing nearer and nearer, they did not dream. The sea looked too calm, too serene, to hide such a terror. They were talking about the safe and quiet crossing they were having when Colonel Bright approached.

"What now, my gay young buccaneer?" he asked, stopping and lighting a cigar.

"We were saying what a good old safe trip we are having," said Porky.

The Colonel frowned. "Better say that after we arrive," he said, puffing hard.

"Oh, I'm not afraid!" said Porky.

"Nor me!" added Beany.

"I know you are not," said the Colonel. "But there is one thing I always remind my men of. That is this: never be afraid but never fail to be careful. You would be a fool to take a chance with a mad dog, wouldn't you? Well, your enemy is a mad dog or worse, every time, whether he is trying to get your reputation or your life. You never want to take chances. Watch him. Sleep with one eye open. Listen to every breath of wind. Watch, and watch eternally. You are only safe when he is dead, or disarmed and in prison. And never belittle your enemy. Better think of him as bigger than he is, cleverer, and more cunning. When you belittle his strength you give him the advantage because you will not fight so hard. And don't take chances."

"No, sir," said Porky.

"Another thing," said the Colonel. "We are not in the danger zone yet. When we reach that, you will see our Captain taking all the precautions that can possibly be taken. Understand we do not anticipate trouble. This is such a small boat that I scarcely think the Germans would bother with it. At the same time, if by any chance they have found out that we are crossing with important papers, agreements, and chemicals, they will be on the lookout for us and we will have a good chase if we manage to escape. I don't say this to scare you boys; but you are here, and I don't want you to underrate the present danger. I will be good and glad to get across myself. Not a word of this to the others, understand."

He nodded and walked on. The boys looked at each other.

"Wow!" said Porky softly.

For awhile the boys stared out over the sea. "Time for grub," Beany finally said.

"Hungry? asked Beany.

"No," said Porky. He laughed. "You know what Colonel Bright's done to me? He's made me imagine things. I thought I saw something over there in the light—way, way off."

Beany stared. "Nothing doing!" he declared. "I could see if it was there, you know."

"Yes, I know your eyes," said Porky nervously. "I saw a gull or a porpoise, I suppose."

"I suppose you didn't see anything," said Beany, scanning the level sea. "Come on down to dinner."

"All right," agreed Porky. He turned from the rail with a last glance seaward. He seized his brother and whirled him about.

"Look! Look!" he cried. "There it is again, straight ahead! What's that?" Beany's keen eyes swept the sea in a lightning glance. Then lie dashed for the companionway and fairly fell into the presence of the Captain.

"A periscope! A periscope!" he gasped.

In another instant the Captain was on the bridge, the glasses at his eyes. He commenced rapping out short orders.

The boys, watching breathlessly, saw the guns trained on the little periscope which, like the reared head of a poisonous snake, came darting at them with a swiftness which seemed incredible. Then everything seemed to, happen at once. The little racer on whose throbbing deck they stood swerved like a frightened colt. Her guns spoke together; and at the same time something slim and long cut cleanly through the water and passed by, missing the Firefly's side so narrowly that the boys felt their knees weaken under them. The periscope shook as the guns volleyed again, wavered uncertainly, and sank from sight.

"We hit her!" said Beany at the rail.

The Firefly, with every ounce of steam on, dashed ahead, doubling here and there and darting about like a frightened hare. A spot of oil appeared on the water.

"Something wrong," said Porky; "but you can bet we are slated to get right out of the immediate vicinity of here at our earliest convenience!"

The Captain, on the bridge, was talking earnestly with Colonel, Bright and the other officers. Every face held a look of almost incredulous relief. The gunners stood close to their steel charges, every man ready for instant action. The Firefly raced ahead, on and on. No one thought of the interrupted meal. No one thought of anything but the danger so narrowly passed. They were still far away from the danger zone. It had been a most unexpected attack.

No one noticed when the sun went down or when dusk fell. Not until darkness wholly hid the sea did they turn from their sea-wide search for approaching danger.

Then the Captain came down from the bridge and approached the boys.

"How did you happen to discover the periscope before the lookout did?" he asked.

Porky spoke for his brother. "It's his eyes," he said. "You see, sir, he has what they call abnormal eyesight. He can see farther and clearer than anybody else. He can see in the dark too, nearly as well as by day. So it wasn't the fault of the lookout that Beany saw it first. He always sees everything before anybody else gets a chance."

"That's odd," mused the Captain. "Well, young fellow, you saved the ship this time all right. It looks as though you had better be stationed on deck when we reach the danger zone. Come down now and get you supper. You never want to go into danger when you are hungry." He slapped Beany on the back and passed on.

The boys followed, suddenly conscious that they had omitted the important ceremony of dinner, but Beany was almost too nervous to eat. He felt as though those keen eyes of his should be on deck. There was a great clatter at the table, the Captain alone sitting in his usual serious silence.

Young Cogggins called out, "Well, that's over with, anyway! They say lightning never strikes in the same place twice."

The Captain smiled. "That's true enough," he said, "but for the sake of safety I had better tell you that these submarines nearly always travel in pairs. We are apt to meet the sister U-boat yet."

A silence fell. "I don't feel sleepy," murmured young Coggins. "Wouldn't it be nice to sleep on deck to-night?"

"Deck for mine!" said Porky in a low voice. "I will say I don't get many thrills out of this being cooped downstairs when there are subs all around."

"Downstairs!" quoted Coggins scornfully. "Don't let the Captain hear you talking about the 'downstairs' of his ship, you landlubber, you!"

"Well, I don't care what you call it! It's downstairs to me anyhow! And whatever you call it, I don't want to sleep there."

"Bosh!" said Coggins. "I tell you we won't see another sub on the whole trip. Do you know the percentage of boats that see subs on their way over?"

He launched into a flow of statistics. Porky and Beany seemed to listen. In fact they were thinking hard. As usual, they thought the same thing, and as they were fully conscious that they were doing so, they found the process as satisfactory as a regular spoken conversation.

"Me for bed," said Coggins finally.

"You don't mean bed, do you?" asked Porky. "How the Captain would feel if he should hear you call his nice berths 'beds!'"

"I thought you were coming on deck," said Beany.

"Of course not; that was a joke," said Coggins.

"Good-night then," said the boys. They went up on deck. It was perfectly dark. Not even a riding light was shown, and through the darkness at top speed raced the Firefly.

"Sort of thrilling, isn't it?" said Porky in a low tone as they leaned over the rail and looked down at the mysterious water below them. "Gee, I hope we don't get torpedoed! I worry about the Colonel. I don't know how well he can swim, or anything about it. He'd catch cold, too, like as not!" He grinned. "Say, do you know what I did back home? I knew you'd laugh if I told you. I bought a couple pounds of—"

"Chocolate," completed Beany. "I did too."

"Any malted milk tablets?" asked Porky.

"Yep, a couple of bottles."

"Oh, gee! Doesn't it beat anything? I suppose yours are for the Colonel in case of shipwreck. Just that!"

"Of course", grinned the other twin. "Well, we are well stocked up; and as long as we have done it, let's fix things up in case anything should happen. You know the Colonel will think of himself the very last one. And if anything does happen, old chap, just you stick right by the Colonel."

"You know if there is anything we can do, and do it is swim."

The two boys went down to their stateroom, and got out the precious store of chocolates and malted milk. Each boy put his share in the oil skin water-tight money belt that had been one of Mr. Leffingwell's many gifts. Their money went easily into a much smaller and less complicated carrier that each boy wore around his neck. Then, feeling ready for any emergency, they hurried back to the dark and silent deck. They stayed up until midnight. Then the wind started up, increasing in violence until the chilled watchers took refuge below.

The boys turned in.

It seemed about fifteen minutes when Porky sat up. Beany was leaning down from the upper berth.

"Did you call me?" he asked.

"No, I thought you called me," said Porky.

"All right," said Beany. He swung to the floor. "Hustle and dress. I bet some thing is on foot."

He hustled himself into his clothes and was ready as soon as Porky, who considered himself the record dresser. Together they slipped through the dark passage and went up on deck. The Firefly fled like a wild thing, cutting a swift path through a rough and choppy sea.

They went forward. Motionless, a dark blur against the sky line, they saw the lookout, his eyes searching the waste. Scudding clouds were massing in the east. A storm was on the way. The boys walked the length of the steamer and leaned over the stern, where the water boiled furiously away from the propeller. Close beside them another watch silently studied the surface of the sea. The night lifted a little. It was nearly dawn. The boys felt depressed. Porky turned and studied the sky in the east; Beany kept his keen eyes on the water behind the Firefly. Suddenly be clutched his brother's arm.

"See! See!" he cried. "Where that patch of white shows! She's coming! Look! Look!"

The glass of the lookout swept the waves. "Nothing there," he said gruffly. Then with a gasp he cried loudly, "Torpedo port; torpedo port!"

Porky saw a slim, swift something cleaving the water. It made straight for the ship. His reason told him that it would strike; he grasped his brother by the arm. "The Colonel!" he cried and made for the cabins below.

Their hurried descent was broken by a terrific crash which threw them headlong. They scrambled to their feet and, gaining the Colonel's door, burst it open.

"Quick, quick, Colonel!" they cried.

They bustled him up the companionway. The little Firefly had already listed heavily to port when another torpedo struck her with shattering force. She rocked back and forth, striving to right herself. The boats were being lowered. The Captain called for the Colonel, and insisted on his entering the largest lifeboat. Two other boats were already crowded and launched. The Firefly settled with a sickening motion.

"All off!" cried the Captain. He glanced over the deserted ship, and jumped for the boat the Colonel was sitting in. As he landed a bulky parcel shot past him, and landed at the colonel's feet. Then another bundle sailed accurately through the air. The first was the Colonel's uniform; the second, his great top-coat. On the slanting, shivering deck the twins stood looking down, yelling madly. "Put on your clothes!" Porky was frantically calling.

"Look in the pockets!" called Beany.

The Captain stood up with a despairing gesture. "Jump!" he commanded.

The boys nodded, but instead of obeying, they disappeared behind the cabin. For a moment the men rested on their oars, then at a command from the Captain they pulled furiously away from the sinking ship which threatened to engulf them as she went down. However, they had gained a safe distance before the doomed vessel, rocking back and forth, gained a dreadful momentum, showed her splintered and shattered hull as if in mute excuse for her action, and disappeared forever in the engulfing sea.

The Captain stood looking at the place were the vessel had disappeared.

Colonel Bright buried his face in his hands.

"Gone!" he groaned. "What shall I say to their people?" He choked as he put on the clothes the boys had rescued and thrown after him. He felt in the pocket of the coat as Beany had yelled for him to do. It held a water-proof belt stuffed with chocolate and malted milk tablets. Again he groaned.

"What ailed them? Why didn't they jump?" he asked. Over and over again he asked the question but there was no one to answer. In the distance the other boats were working toward the east. Far the other side of where the doomed boat had gone down, they could see the gray back of the submarine, now lying on the surface. Strangely enough, she did not try to pursue or shell them. The men at the oars rowed furiously to escape. The wind rose, and the rain, which had been drizzling down, commenced to fall in torrents. It made a shield as enveloping as a heavy fog. The submarine was not to be seen, and they, of course, were hidden from her. Hour after hour the rain fell; and all the men rowed, taking turns at the heavy oars. The Colonel sat silent. He could not forget the young gallant pair gone down with the ship, two splendid lives snuffed out in an hour.

Night came to the drenched, hungry men a time of torture. In the morning, the Colonel divided a part of the chocolate, which restored a portion of strength to the rowers. So another day dragged toward its close. The rain had stopped, and a hot sun had dried their clothing. They were beginning to feel the pangs of thirst, but the hoard of chocolate and malted milk tablets mercifully held out. In the far, far distance they could see one of the other boats. The others were gone. Where, they could not tell.

Then at dawn happened the miracle. Out of the dusk a big ship seemed to take form. She was miles away, but to their eyes, growing accustomed only to the unrelenting stretch of sea and sky, she seemed to loom over them.

As it grew lighter, they could see that she was a huge transport with her convoys about her.

Carl Coggins leaped to a seat, tearing off a silk shirt as he did so. He ran a big oar through the sleeves and waved it wildly.

"I have always wanted to do this," he cried. "Now you see why I wouldn't wear a service shirt under my tunic!"

"Wave ahead!" said the Colonel. "Here's hoping they see you!"

The little boatful anxiously watched the great ship and her convoys. Would she pause?



CHAPTER XIII

A SUBMARINE FLIES A FLAG OF TRUCE

Furiously Carl waved his white flag, Every eye was fastened on the distant shape. A cry went up from the men in the little boat.

"They see us—they see us!"

They renewed their rowing with all their remaining strength, as though the great ship laying to in the distance might suddenly start away.

But instead they saw a couple of boats put off—motor-boats that cut their way furiously through the water and soon reached them. A word of explanation from the Captain of the Firefly to the young officer in charge of the motor-boat, and they were taken in tow, while the exhausted oarsmen leaned heavily on their oars, and every heart sent up a prayer of thanksgiving.

The transport was the one they had been trying to overtake, and Colonel Bright's own men met him with cheers and sobs as he was assisted on deck. He and the others were hurried below where they were put under the care of the ship's doctor.

A search now began for the remaining boats. It was not until just before dark that the powerful glasses in the hands of one of the lookout men discovered some small specks far to starboard. It was the missing boats. As soon as they, with their loads of suffering men, had been taken on board, the transport and her convoys, wrapped in darkness, plunged forward through the gathering night.

They were approaching the danger zone.

The following day, the Colonel was himself again. He had been too long a soldier to let the loss of the two boys, dear as they were, completely crush him. They were lost; it was the fortune of war. They were lost as thousands of other young, splendid fellows had been lost; and although the Colonel could scarcely bear to think of the grief of the poor mother back home when she should learn of the loss of her two idolized sons, he put the picture behind him. Here was a transport full of men, his own command largely, and a deep anxiety beset him when he looked over the sea, searching its surface for a glimpse of a telltale periscope.

He fell to watching the convoys with their bristling guns and the intricate tackle used in this modern game of war at sea. They looked capable, every inch of them, and deadly in their efficiency. Yet occasionally the deadly U-boat claimed one of these as a victim. Once more his eyes roved over the big transport.

It was packed and jammed with men. They were quartered in every possible place. Happy, jolly fellows, full of the finest courage in the world, ready for anything, eager for the next adventure, meeting victory with modesty, accepting disaster with a smile. The rails on each side of the ship were lined with men watching, watching like himself, yet with a difference.

The Colonel smiled as he guessed the eagerness with which they hoped for a sight of a submarine. Not a man of them there wanted to drown, but he wanted to see a sub, and with the hopefulness of his character he felt that the chances were good for getting away before any damage was done.

Still thinking of the boys he had loved so well, he leaned once more over the rail, his sad blue eyes searching the sea. Waves and sky; waves and sky; a gull in the distance but nothing else. For an hour he stood there thinking, forgetful of his promise to go below, staring about, searching the vastness for a sign of the danger that lurked everywhere, the terrible U-boats; but he looked and saw nothing. Another night passed but as the day dawned, a sudden warning call sounded through the ship, and peering through his porthole, the Colonel saw the long, slim shape of a torpedo whizzing toward the great ship. It was badly aimed and as it passed harmlessly on, a thunder of guns shattered the peace of the morning. The Colonel rushed on deck. As he did so, he saw the turret of a U-boat between the transport and her nearest convoy sink out of sight. Again the guns spoke as the boat went down. The periscope of the sub wavered and leaned far out of true. Another torpedo cut the water and struck the transport a glancing blow, doing but little damage. The two convoys were now busy with another U-boat that had attacked them.

One of the convoys, a destroyer of the latest and finest type, threw a smoke screen between the U-boat and the transport, but the U-boat, evidently under orders to get the transport with its crowds of men at any cost, came to the surface in the midst of the smoke and, using the screen to her own advantage, slipped close to the transport. As she did so there was another clamor of guns from both the convoys. The Colonel could not see the result of the firing. The guns on the transport were aimed at the nearest U-boat which had come so, close to her intended victim. She lay on the surface, and one torpedo and then another shot from her firing tubes. The fire from the transport missed her again.

The torpedoes seemed possessed. Instead of holding the straight line that would have doomed the great ship to certain destruction, they skipped here and there. One of them turned and narrowly missed the U-boat which was now apparently making an effort to submerge. So strangely did the boat act that the gunner hesitated as he was about to give the order to fire.

No other torpedo was sent out, and the submarine kept to the surface, swinging slowly.

"She must be badly crippled," said the Captain to Colonel Bright, who stood beside him on the bridge. He gave the order to an officer to open fire on the boat.

As the men leaped to their guns, a strange thing happened. The hatch on the submarine opened, and a man leaped out to the deck. He waved a white flag.

"No good!" said the Captain. "That's been done before. I won't risk one of my boat crews over there."

"You can't shoot at a flag of truce," said the Colonel hastily.

"You have to in warfare like this," said the Captain bitterly. The figure on the U-boat, looking very small in the distance, continued to wave his flag. The Captain nodded to the commander of the gun crew on the nearest turret. The gun leaped into position. At that instant the figure on the reeling submarine whipped a small flag from his pocket and flourished it beside the other. The officers and men on board the transport gasped.

It was an American flag!

Yes, there on a German submarine a solitary figure was waving aloft the Stars and Stripes.

The Captain uttered an exclamation of amazement, and shook his head at the gun crew. Almost at once a couple of motor-boats, filled with armed men, shot from the transport and raced over the rough sea to the rolling sub.

"We will soon know what all this is about," said Captain Greene. "Come down while I prepare a wireless."

The two Captains and the Colonel went below, while the men crowded the rail and watched the boats, now at the side of the distant submarine. It was a long time before they started back. The men could see that they were loading the boats with something that looked like rolls of cloth. Finally they returned.

The officers, coming back to the decks, were greeted by volleys of deafening cheers, boots, calls, laughter. Every man who could got near the railing was there. They were packed solidly, looking down at the boats below. Those who could not reach a point of vantage swung up on their companions' shoulders. Everybody hooted and laughed. Presently there was a break in the line, and four strapping sailors made their way through with a burden which they laid none too gently on the deck. Another and another, and still they came, until at the Captain's feet there was a row of fourteen unconscious figures, wound and strapped with rope until they resembled mummies. Captain Greene bent closely above the figures. Two of them wore the uniform of German officers; but one and all were unconscious, and tightly roped.

"What does this mean?" demanded Captain Greene. He looked up just as a stifled cry came from the Captain of the Firefly. On the other side of him, Colonel Bright staggered and would have fallen, had not a friendly hand steadied him. He as well as the Captain of the Firefly were staring with bulging eyes at the figure that was just emerging from the crowd at the rail. As they stared, apparently unable to speak, another figure joined the first.

Covered with dirt, unkempt, dressed in what seemed to be cast-off fragments of all the uniforms under the sun, the two figures stood looking around with broad grins, on their pale and smudgy faces.

A bloody bandage half hid the face of one of them, the other nursed a hand bundled in rough, soiled cloths.

Colonel Bright tried to speak. Words failed him. He gulped feebly, and waved a hand at the apparitions. They stepped forward and wearily saluted.

"Yes, Sir, it's us!" said the scarecrow with the bandage.

Porky and Beany had come back!



CHAPTER XIV

THE TWINS BEGIN THEIR STORY

With scarcely a look at the still trussed-up figures on the deck, Colonel Bright rushed forward, and in a second had the two boys in his arms.

"Please, Colonel, can't we go down to your cabin? I rather guess we are all in." Porky swayed against the Colonel's broad shoulder.

The Colonel beckoned to a couple of his men who were standing near. They dashed forward, and almost carried the exhausted boys down into the Colonel's roomy cabin.

"Not a word now, boys, until we get you comfortable. Are you hungry?"

The boys looked at each other.

"I guess we are starved," Beany managed to pipe in a small voice.

Captain Greene went to the door and gave a quick order. A couple of men got them out of their rags and into fresh pajamas. Then a light meal came in.

Porky heaved a sigh. "I suppose you want to know about it," he said.

The Colonel looked at him.

"No, I don't," he said. "It is enough to get you back. Suppose you try to sleep for awhile."

Porky smiled. "Say, Colonel, that's good of you!" he said. "We are done up a bit, aren't we, Beany?"

Beany did not reply. He was sound asleep, sitting bolt upright on his locker.

"Hello there, young fellows," the Colonel said cheerily twelve hours later. "How do you feel after your little nap? Think you could eat a little something?"

"Just try us, sir," said Porky. "Say, Colonel, sir, we have a lot to tell you! May we talk while we eat breakfast?"

"You certainly may," said the Colonel, "but I will have to call Captain Greene. This is his ship, and he has a right to hear anything you have to tell."

Captain Greene came in; the boys did not notice that a shorthand clerk sat just outside the open door.

"Well, in the first place, Colonel, here are your papers. We went back to get them, and we took them with us all in their oil-silk wrapper, but those fellows over there in the submarine tore the oil-silk up. They took the papers, of course, but I got 'em back when we put the bunch to sleep."

"Begin at the beginning, please," said Captain Greene.

"And tell me why you didn't jump when I said, 'Jump,'" demanded the Captain of the Firefly.

"Why, we had to get those papers!" said Porky simply. "I don't think that was insubordination. I knew the Colonel wanted them. He was so careful of them."

"All right," said the Colonel. "What happened then?"

"Why, the Firefly rolled around for a minute and then she went down. Say, Colonel, were you ever on a sinking ship? We got sucked right in with her. I thought we never would come up. I got out first, and I didn't see Beany, and Gee! I was never so seared in my life. I was just thinking about diving for him when he popped up all out of breath, same as I was. We had to float awhile, we were so used up. Then we happened to look up. We hadn't said a word yet, and there was that submarine. It had come up on the other side of us, between us and where the ship had been. So we couldn't get around to where you must have been in the boats. There was a man on the little top deck place, and he had a boat hook, and first I knew he was sticking for me with that boat hook, just as though I was, somebody's hat lost overboard. He didn't care whether he stuck his old hook into a meat boy or not. I saw he wanted us anyhow; so I said, 'Come on!' to Beany, and swum up the side of the submarine, and clambered onto the little deck, and Beany followed. Mr. Boy-sticker grunted something at us, and shoved us down the little steep ladder, and there we were in the inside of that submarine!

"The boy-sticker shoved us over to a table, and there was an officer sitting with a bottle and glass, and a small chunk of a sort of black bread."

"That stuff is made of sawdust and oatmeal, I'll bet," said Beany. "It was worse than we would give the pigs!"

"Well," said Porky, "we stood where we had been shoved, and pretty soon the officer looked up, and the boy-sticker commenced to talk to him in German.

"The officer commenced to look real bright and interested. He said, 'Goot! Goot!' three or four times, and then he said something to us in German. I shook my head, and he tried French. He said, 'Parley voos Frongsay?' and I said, 'Wee wee!' and Beany he butted in and said, 'Better not be so fresh with your wees unless he's got a dictionary to lend you,' and the officer jumped and said, 'Himmel! Where have you come from?' in just as good English as that. We both said Syracuse; and he laughed, and said, 'What a small world! Why, I went to Syracuse University!'

"You would never think a guy that had chances in a real country like ours would act like he did. He kept us standing there, and he asked us all about everything back home, and just as we thought he was getting real friendly he said cool as anything, 'We saved you because we are short handed. Do as you are told. Obey. It's your one chance. We will shoot you, no doubt, when we get to port.'

"Wasn't that nice and encouraging," asked Beany of the attentive audience. "They made us take off all our clothes and put on those old things that had belonged to the two fellows who had died. And then we went to work. Well, he set me to fixing up the little bunk place he slept in, when he did sleep. The rest of us just laid down anywhere. There's not a lot of room in a submarine."

"Yes, and first thing," said Beany, "Porky was wigwagging me to be careful what I did, and to try to keep the Captain from looking."

"Yes, because what do you think I had found? A wad of papers that looked like plans just lying around on his locker, and a whole row of bottles. Medicines I suppose, and one of them said Anesthetique, and I made up my mind that was dope."

"The next thing happened, he set me to oiling up the torpedoes. Gee, it made me so mad to see those great smooth things lying there on their shelves ready to roll into the tubes and be shot at some good American ship! All at once it came to me what to do if I could work it. So I took that knife Mr. Leffingwell gave me, the one with a whole tool-chest in it, and I opened it behind my hand, and found a dandy screw-driver. Then I took a look over the torpedo I was fussing with, and I saw it steered by its tail. I knew it must be carefully adjust, and I sort of memorized where all the screws were."

"They can remember anything," said Colonel Bright to Captain Greene. "Go on!"

"Well, sir, that night I went to sleep, or pretended to, right under the torpedo shelves, and when I heard everybody snore, I went to work, and twisted all those screws a little."

The Captain burst out into a roar of laughter.

"Well, son," cried Captain Greene, "it certainly worked! Could you see the result of your scheme?"

"No, sir, we couldn't see a thing. But I thought it must have worked because—well, I felt it must!

"Then everybody in the boat seemed to be mad at everybody else; and everything they said sounded as though they were threatening each other. Once the Captain laughed when the boy-sticker man said something to me, and he said,

"'Do you know what he said?' And I said no; and the Captain said, 'Well, it's too bad you never learned German! He was telling you just what he intends to do to you as soon as I give him leave. He's a faithful soul, is Heinrich, and he wants you for his very own.'

"I said, 'Well, what you going to do about it? I guess it made me sort of mad to have him sit there and poke fun at me. He looked at me a minute, and then he up and shied his glass at me. It was a big heavy glass, but he was a little full as usual, and didn't aim very well."

"It took him on the side of the head, just the same," said Beany.

"Well, anyhow," continued Porky, "he looked at me and he said, 'When you speak to me say Sir or next time I'll kill you.'" Porky grinned. "He looked as though he meant it, too."

"You bet he meant it!" said Beany. "He was just aching to shoot us through the torpedo tube, the way they always get rid of dead ones. Gee, I was scared to death for Porky. That Captain seemed to pick on Porky, and he mixed us so, us looking just alike, that he put a white band around my arm, so he could tell which wasn't Porky."

"Well, I guess you don't want to hear all this junk," said Porky.

"We want every bit of it," said Captain Greene.

"Tell them about the fight they had," said Beany, shifting his bandaged hand.

"We saw one thing right off," said Porky. "The Captain was the whole push, just as if he was king. He sat there with a big revolver beside him on the table, and I can tell you he didn't trust his own shadow. The way Beany, and I doped it out, he was running in hard luck. He had been sent out to sink a certain number of ships before he could report, and all he had torpedoed was just the Firefly. Grub was getting low, two of his men were dead, and another one was curled up on the locker sicker than a pup. Once in awhile the Captain would look at him, and say to us in English, 'About twenty-four hours more, eh? Then he goes through the tube.'"

"He just didn't have any heart at all," shuddered Beany. "Of course that was why they didn't kill us; they couldn't run the boat and tend to the torpedoes and the periscope and the engines all at once in a case of a fight, with three men short. And then they had to fight."

"Tell us about that," said Colonel Bright.

"I don't know when it was," said Porky. "Night and day was all alike down there, but there was one big yellow-haired fellow that ran the engine. He had been ordered to show me about it; and, say, I will say I can run a submarine now. It was what you call intensive training. When I was slow, he gave me a clip on the head. He could just do anything with machinery. But they certainly have got that submarine engine perfected so it will do everything but talk. Any child could run it as soon as he learned the different levers. I don't believe we have anything like it; but we can have now because there's the pattern outside there. You didn't shell it, did you?"

"Certainly not," said Captain Greene. "It is in charge of a picked crew of our men right outside."

"Well, don't let 'em take her down until I get a chance to show them how she works. There is just one lever that controls the diving gear, and that is hidden, so you can't find it if you don't know about it. I came near turning the old thing over. I got beaten up that trip."

"Get to the fight," said Beany.

"The engineer was nutty. He talked all the time and muttered to himself, and it got on the Captain's nerves or what he had left of them. He stared at the engineer half the time; and that made Louie peevish, I suppose. He took it out on me more or less—kept me sweating over that engine every minute he was awake. He wanted a drink too. It was sort of raw the way that Captain would sit there and guzzle and never give the others a bit of it. Louie would watch and watch and swallow hard; and the Captain would watch him back again and grin. They were just like a lot of savage dogs."

"Well, they didn't have enough to eat, to begin with," said Beany, "and then the air was so bad, and they were all cooped up in that little space, and you couldn't hear any outside noises at all. You don't know how funny that is.

"They took our watches, so we couldn't tell the time, and, honest, I thought we must have been there a month. And they all knew that something pretty fierce would happen to them it they went back home without sinking the ships that had been required of them. They have it all down to a system.

"Well, pretty soon Louie took to leaving me with the engine, and he would walk back past the Captain. He saluted him every time, and he watched that bottle just like a starved dog. And every time the Captain would slowly take hold of the bottle and grin. And then Louie would walk back again.

"Then once he went a little too close, and the Captain said something in German, and stuck out his foot, and tripped Louie up. He fell the length of the apartment; just plunged down because he wasn't expecting it. Beany was trying to do something for the sick man on the locker, and I was at the engine. We were sort of out of the way; and it was a lucky thing, because Louie went mad then and there, that's all there was to it. I never saw anything so awful, and neither did Beany. He didn't look human. He had the bluest eyes you ever saw when he was right, and they turned red as blood. And his face got dead white, and he showed all his teeth like a dog does. He had big yellow teeth with longer ones, like a dog's fangs, at the corners. And say, he was quicker than a cat! The Captain didn't have a chance to pull his gun. Louie had him by the arms, and was trying to break him in two backward. A couple of other men ran to help the Captain, and that Louie just kicked out back, and doubled them both up, one after the other, in a corner. Nobody else interfered. I suppose Louie knew, if he knew anything, that he was a gone goose anyhow, and he wanted to punish the Captain. They never said a word. Louie had the Captain's right wrist in his left hand, so the Captain couldn't shoot, and I saw he was trying to twist the Captain's right arm so he could break it."

"That Captain was some quick, too," said Beany.

"They tripped and fell, and went rolling all over the place. That was when I most tipped the boat over. I forgot my levers, watching them and wondering if we would all get killed before the thing was over. Once they broke loose and came up, one each side of the table and the Captain leveled his revolver and pulled the trigger but it didn't fire. Guess it jammed or something. Anyhow, in the second that it refused to work, Louie was across the table and at him again. He was sure mad now. There was regular froth at the corners of his mouth, and he reached out as he clinched and clawed the whole side of the Captain's face off. Gosh!

"Then all at once the Captain got his right arm loose, and he brought round like lightning, and pressed the muzzle of the revolver right against Louie's side and bang! off she went. Louie never spoke, just grunted, and crumpled down on the floor. The Captain looked at him a minute, and then he dropped into a chair himself; and I tell you by that time he looked as though he did need a bracer. He was all in. Louie would have killed him sure as sure if he hadn't shot him.

"Nobody spoke or said anything. The Captain sat there a long time, just panting and staring down at Louie. Then he looked at me, and said, 'He had it coming to him. Can you run that engine and not turn turtle?"

"And I said, 'Sure!' Then he said something in German to the men. He talked and talked, but of course we couldn't tell what he said. Presently four of them took Louie and laid him in the torpedo chute, and there he was; and nobody paid any more attention to him than if he wasn't there at all. Gee, it was awful!"



CHAPTER XV

A SPY ON BOARD

Porky rubbed a hand across his eyes, as though to shut out a disagreeable sight. Beany shook his head. The boys evidently hated the pictures that memory drew.

"Let's have the rest of it, boys," said the Captain of the Firefly. "We may as well have the whole thing at once."

"Well!" said Porky 'sighing, "that's how things went until to-day—or I guess it was yesterday, wasn't it? Anyhow, I can't tell just when anything happened. All I know is that everybody was just as though they were strung on wires.

"And that Captain got uglier and uglier. He talked German to the men, and then he would turn around and speak the best English you ever heard. It seemed awfully funny. He knew a lot of people back home, all the high-brows, and when he got pretty full, he would commence to sing. And say he had that Caruso guy lashed to the mast, I bet. He sang love stuff, and sob stuff, and a lot of opera stuff that sounded like gargling. Gee, it was great!

"Then he would make me and Beany stand at attention, and he would tell us all about the German army, and how strong it is, and all about their navy, and how we just had to be wiped off the map. The United States, I mean, and he would make us repeat all sorts of statistics about what the Germans had won and done."

"He said there was one chance in a million of our escaping," said Beany, "and he wanted us to have a lot of inside dope to tell our people. Of course it was all brag, almost every bit of it. We could see one thing. Those fellows were all sore. They didn't know what at, but they were sore just the same. Our fellows are never like that."

"You bet they are not!" said Porky, fondly and proudly. "The difference is plain as the nose on your face. I tell you what I did do; I made some little drawings of some of the things we heard. Sort of plans they were talking over. But you can see the submarine yourselves. You say she is safe."

"Get to what happened this morning—I mean yesterday," said Beany.

"Well," said Porky, "first thing we knew, the Captain looked through the periscope, and then he turned around and told the others something, and, say, they were pleased to death! You see they wanted to make up their required number of ships torpedoed, and get back to port. The Captain called me over, and told me to look, and there you were, way off, but plain. It was not really light. We submerged right away, and the Captain told me to fix some coffee. They wanted coffee nineteen times a day or so. I went over to the little corner where they cooked what few things they did cook, and then I happened to think of that bottle. The one with Anesthetique on it. That looked near enough to Anesthetic to be the same thing; and I wondered what would happen if I dumped some of it in the coffee. I didn't know what it was; but there was a chance anyhow for it to work. It might make 'em sick if nothing else, and I couldn't seem to see them pegging away at one of our ships with one or two or three of those torpedoes, even if I had monkeyed with their tail feathers.

"So I tipped the wink to Beany to kind of hold the center of the stage, and, say, that was funny! Beany braced up to the Captain, and saluted and said, 'Is it an American ship out there, sir?' and the Captain said, 'Sure thing, kiddo!' He could talk just like anybody, you know. Then Beany looked as though he was going to cry; and he said, 'Can't you make an exception, Capt, let this one go?' The Captain thought that was a big joke and pretended to think about it, and finally he said, 'No, I can't see my way clear to do that; but I'll tell you what we will do. We won't leave a single boatful to starve. We will destroy every human-being on the transport and the convoys. I think we will meet a sister U-boat here this morning, and we will have a real good time.'