The dinner had been a fine one. Only one hitch had occurred; that was when Mr. Rhinds, at the beginning of the meal, had tried to order several bottles of wine.

"Just a moment, Mr. Rhinds," Farnum broke in. "None of the wine for us, thank you."

"Oh, then, some lighter kind of wine," proposed Mr. Rhinds, anxiously. "Something good, in which we can all pledge one another."

"None of that stuff, according to our way of thinking, is any good," replied Farnum, with a good-natured smile.

"Well, perhaps not for the boys," conceded the host of this dinner. "But for the rest of us, as business men ready to cement a friendship."

"Alcohol isn't cement," replied Mr. Farnum, mildly. "At least, not with our party. The time was, I admit, Mr. Rhinds, when business men often tried to cement a business friendship with wine or liquor. But those times have gone by. Drinking is out of date, nowadays. The keenest and most dependable business men are those who do not drink. In fact, I may go a little further, and say that, in our business at Dunhaven, we have come to the point where we no longer have any dealings with business men whom we know to drink. You will understand, of course, that this is said without criticism of whatever views you yourself may entertain."

"Oh, well, then," grunted Rhinds, much taken back by the fairly spoken words of his rival. "I dare say there was too much drinking in the old days. Yes, Farnum, I am much inclined to agree with you, and we will do without the wine."

None the less, it was plain that their host was much annoyed.

"I want to get at the members of the naval board," declared Mr. Farnum, toward the end of the meal. "I want to find out what is planned in the tests that are to take place here."

"The members of the board," replied Mr. Rhinds, "are the three men, in citizen dress, who are at the sixth table down from here. They came into their dinner about ten minutes ago. As to to-morrow, I can tell you that, beginning at eleven o'clock, all the submarine boats entered are to take a straight, out-to-sea speed sail for six hours. The gunboat, 'Chelsea' will start the fleet, and the 'Oakland' will go along with the racers."

"That's short time for us," muttered Mr. Farnum, uneasily.

"Luckily, sir, we're ready, at a single moment's notice," interposed Captain Jack Benson.

"As soon as we get through," proposed Mr. Rhinds, easily, "I'll take you over and present you to Captain Magowan and his associates on the board."

"That is kind of you," nodded Mr. Farnum, gratefully.

Accordingly, a few minutes later, Mr. Rhinds arose, sauntering, cigar in mouth, over to the table of the officers of the naval board. He spoke with them a few moments, then returned.

"Mr. Farnum, and Mr Pollard," announced Rhinds, "Captain Magowan and his associates invite you to come over and sit at their table. Radwin, will you look after our young friends? See whether you can show them any courtesies."

A highly significant look passed between the portly rascal and his secretary. None of the Farnum party, however, noted it.

"Well, what shall we do, boys?" inquired Radwin, genially, as, the four sauntered down the lobby toward the hotel entrance.

"I reckon taking things easily and restfully will suit us as well as anything," smiled Jack. "That is, unless you have some plan you particularly wish to suggest."

"Well," continued Radwin, thoughtfully, "the town is rather full of sailors, just at present, and they're making the nights lively in some sections. Do you care to go around with me, and see what the sailors are doing to drive dull care away?"

"Well, that is a question," said Jack Benson quickly. "We're boys, you know!"

"Sensible young fellows," cried Fred Radwin, in a tone so full of approval as to disarm all suspicion. "Then, for a while, what do you say if we take window seats here near the entrance, and note whatever may be passing on the street? By that time your employers may be through with the board members and come out."

"Why not go outside in the air, and walk up and down the block?" suggested Jack.

"Excellent!" agreed Radwin, readily. He accompanied them outside, though, a few moments later, he excused himself, saying that he had to go to the nearest drugstore to write a short letter and post it.

"What do you think of Radwin?" Hal asked.

"Why, I guess he's a good deal the sort of fellow that Rhinds wants," Captain Jack answered, slowly.

"Don't you like Rhinds?" demanded Eph.

"Now, would it be just right to say that?" asked Jack, slowly. "Mr. Rhinds has tried to be very pleasant to us to-night. So has Mr. Radwin. Probably they're both good fellows, in their own way. Only—"

"Well?" insisted Hal.

"Why, to tell the truth," confessed Captain Benson, "Rhinds impresses me as being just a bit coarse, and Radwin a little too smooth and slick. To put it another way, they're not just our kind of people. That is, they're not at all in the same class with gentlemen like Jake Farnum and Dave Pollard. Now, that's every word I'm going to say against Rhinds or Radwin, for they've certainly been agreeable to us to-night."

Chatting thus, as they strolled slowly back and forth, none of the submarine boys noted how long Radwin was gone. As a matter of fact, that enterprising, rapidly-moving young man was away for nearly half an hour—and he was tremendously busy on their account.

The Somerset stood on one of the older, quieter streets of Colfax. At this time of the night there were not many passers.

"Here comes Radwin," discovered Hal, at last. "I had almost forgotten that he was coming back to us."

"I thought he had forgotten," laughed Jack.

Then all three turned to greet Mr. Radwin.

"How's this?" he asked. "Haven't Mr. Rhinds and your friends come out yet?"

"They must be talking, yet, with the officers of the naval board," suggested Eph Somers.

"They're sure to be out presently," nodded Radwin, after he had walked the submarine boys to the next corner. "At least, Mr. Rhinds is, for he always takes a walk in the evening, after dinner. Now, I've discovered the place where they serve the finest hot soda—chocolate, at that. I wanted to invite all hands there. But I'm afraid Rhinds and your employers may come out and be looking for us. Benson, do you feel like remaining here, to guide them along, while I take your comrades up to the place? You can tell the older men where we are, and then Mr Rhinds will bring you all around. He knows the place. Come along, Somers and Hastings. Benson, bring the older ones as soon as you see them come out of the hotel."

"Why, say, Jack, you go along now," urged Eph. "You know I don't care much about chocolate, and you do. So run along. I'll stay right here until I see our people."

"Good boy, Eph!" murmured Jack, gratefully. "You know my weakness for hot chocolate. I feel as if I could punish four or five of 'em right now."

As he turned away with Jack and Hal, Mr. Radwin looked rather disappointed. In fact, he was exceedingly disappointed, for he had hoped to leave Captain Jack Benson at this corner on the block below the hotel.

The street was practically deserted there. Yet barely two minutes had passed when, about a block away, in the opposite direction from that of the hotel, Eph heard a quick little feminine scream.

Wheeling about, Somers saw something that aroused his blood.

A girl, or young woman, he could not tell which, at the distance, cowered back from a short, thick-set young man who had raised his hand to strike her.

The next instant Eph saw the blow fall. Again the young woman cried out, though not very loudly. But the brute seemed on the point of once more striking her.

"Wow!" sputtered Eph, angrily. "We'll see about that."

On the run Somers went down the short block. The bully, hearing him come, turned for a look, then darted away down the side street.

"I—I beg your pardon," stammered Eph, as the young woman turned, flashing a look at him through a thin veil. "I—I don't want to interfere, but—"

"I'm very glad you did, sir," responded the young woman, in a voice whose sweetness charmed the submarine boy. "That wretch—"

"I wonder if I can overtake him and thrash him," pondered Eph, glancing down the side street. The bully had disappeared.

"Oh, don't think of that," begged the girl, in a quick, anxious way. "I don't want to set people's tongues to wagging."

"No; of course not," Eph assented, quickly.

"But, if you will escort me safe home—"

"Gladly, miss," nodded young Somers, again lifting his cap.

"Oh, that will be so kind of you," she murmured. "For I am afraid Tom might be waiting for me, on the way to my home—"

"If he gets within hailing distance," uttered Eph, valiantly, "I'll plant a torpedo fist under him!"

"Will you let me take your arm?" begged the girl; for, from her voice and her slight, trim she appeared to be no more. That she was indeed afraid was testified to by the way in which her hand trembled on his arm. It was such a tender little hand, too! Eph was not a flirt. He did not give much thought to girls, as a rule, but he wasn't going to see one struck by a street bully.

So he walked along, down the side street, turning, also, at two or three other corners, talking cheerily to make the girl forget her late fright. Her face Eph couldn't see very well, on account of the veil, but he decided that the young woman possessed beautiful, flashing eyes, as he caught their expression dimly through the veil.

Down another quiet side street they were passing, when they came to the head of an alley-way. Just as they reached it the girl let go of Eph's arm, uttering a little scream as she darted away. Eph didn't follow her. He found himself face to face with the thick set young man, Tom. Just of that worthy were two other sturdy-looking young hoodlums.

"Now, you an' me have got something to settle, younker," glared Tom.

"All right," retorted Eph, undauntedly. "But fair play—one at a time."

Eph's fists were up, and he sailed in, fighting manfully, sailor-fashion. Then the other two closed in behind young Somers. He was struck on the back of the head, and darkness came over him and he fell insensible to the ground.

When luckless Eph came to his senses he found himself lying, bound hand and foot, on a pile of rags. The darkness around him was complete.

"Well, this is a puzzle to unravel!" muttered the astounded submarine boy.

Yet, think and ponder as he would, it never occurred to him to see, in his misfortune, the guiding hand of Fred Radwin!



CHAPTER VIII

ONE, TWO, THREE—A FULL BAG!

At the hot soda place even Jack Benson, fond as he was of such decoctions, at last had his fill.

"Funny Eph hasn't brought the others here," muttered Jack.

"Pardon me, a moment," urged Radwin, rising. "I'll be back directly."

Radwin slipped out to the sidewalk, for he had seen a hovering figure at the curb. However, Radwin kept on down the street, turning in at the third doorway beyond. Now, the hovering figure sauntered past.

"We got the cub," whispered the prowler.

"Good!" whispered Radwin. "Then you're ready for the rest?"

"Huh! It'll be like sleeping on a haymow, if the other two are as easy as that one was."

"All right, then! Be off, and see that you do your work well!"

With that Radwin walked briskly back and into the hot soda place.

"I'm ashamed to tell you what took me out," he laughed, easily. "Boys, after writing that letter in the drug-store, I forgot to mail it, and just felt it in my coat pocket. Well, it's safe in the mail-box, at last."

"We were just saying," Hal announced, "that it's funny the others haven't come along. We better go back and get Eph, anyway?"

"It will be a good idea," nodded Radwin.

Of course, when they reached the corner at which they had left young Somers, he was not there.

"I wonder if he has gone back and joined the party at the hotel?" queried Hal.

"We can soon find out," declared Jack.

"Suppose you and I walk down there, then, Hastings?" suggested Radwin. "We can leave Benson here, to tell Somers where we are, if he comes back this way."

"You wait here, Hal," suggested Jack. "There's a little matter I want to speak to Mr. Farnum about, anyway."

So Hastings was left at the corner. He saw Jack and the Rhinds man go in through the hotel entrance.

Then, hearing steps, Hal turned to see two sailors approaching. They wore the uniform of the United States Navy. Hastings regarded them with the friendly interest that he, like most other Americans, always felt for sailors. But the two sailors came along, talking earnestly, and did not appear to see young Hastings, who stood in close to the wall.

"When I first seen him fall," one of the sailors was saying, "I mistook him for a Navy officer. He was pretty young, but the uniform fooled me."

"He had the uniform, all right but no signs of rank on it," nodded the other sailor, thoughtfully. "Was he much hurt?"

"Oh, it won't kill him," replied the first sailor. "But—"

"I beg your pardon," interposed Hal, springing in front of the pair. "It has just struck me that you are speaking of a comrade of mine."

"Well, he had a uniform on, just like your'n, replied the first sailor, looking Hal Hastings over quickly.

"Only the young feller we're talkin' about has red hair," added the second.

"What has happened to him?" demanded Hal, a feeling of alarm sweeping over him.

"Oh, he got in a little fight—that's all," responded the first sailor. "Bit off a little bit bigger chunk of fight than he could handle. He's kinder dazed and silly, now, and talkin' about queer things. Half an hour more, though, messmate, and I guess he'll be able to walk down to the water front all right."

Eph knocked out and dazed—among strangers! That was the sole picture that appeared to Hal Hastings's mind at that moment.

"He's a friend of mine—messmate, at that," Hal declared, quickly. "Where is the place? Or, better still, can you take me to it? I'll reward you."

"Oh, stow the reward, messmate," replied one of the sailors. "We fellers that foller seafighting for a trade have got to stand in together once in a while. When I seen your friend knocked down I jumped in and floored the big rough that hurt your messmate. We'd have brought your friend along, but we didn't know just where to take him."

It was hard for Hal to believe that clear-eyed, level-headed Eph Somers would go into any of the low drinking resorts of the town; but he thought it best not to ask any questions until he found young Somers.

After some two minutes of brisk walking the two sailors turned down into an alleyway.

"The place we're going to is dark on the ground floor," stated one of them. "Don't be afraid to go up a dark stairway, messmate. We'll be with you, anyway."

"I don't believe I'm afraid, thank you," smiled Hal.

One of the sailors, stepping ahead, pushed door open, going in first. Hal followed, the other sailor bringing up the rear.

Then, like a flash, Hal Hastings felt him self seized on that dark stairway, and a big hand held over his mouth.

Like a tiger Hal fought for a few moments. As nearly as he could judge, in the dark, he had four assailants. He was overborne, at last gagged and tied.

In the meantime Jack and Mr. Radwin had gone to the hotel dining room, to find that the last diners had departed, leaving only a few waiters who were arranging tables.

"No one here," murmured Radwin "Then we'll look through the billiard room, writing room and other places. Young Somers must be with the party somewhere."

Twenty minutes or more they spent in looking through the various public parts of the big hotel. Then they returned to the lobby. Radwin was limping, now, and looked uncomfortable.

"What's the matter?" questioned Jack.

"A nail in my shoe hurts me," lied the other, glibly, sinking into a chair. "Benson, I reckon I'll sit here a few minutes. Then I'll get to my room and call a bell-boy, to see if he can find some one to fix the shoe."

"Too bad," murmured Jack. "But say, I'll go back to the corner, and tell Hal, so he won't be standing on the corner all night."

With that Jack Benson walked briskly out. Up at the next corner, however, instead of finding Hal, the young skipper was accosted by two sailors in United States naval uniform.

"I reckon your name's Benson, messmate?" hailed one of the pair.

"I reckon it is," nodded Jack, looking sharply at them.

"Got a bit of bad news for you, then," added the first speaker. "It ain't so awful bad, though. One of your friends—Winter, I think his name was—"

"No; Somers," corrected the other sailor.

"Well, he saw a row going on, and he had to run down the street and get into it. Too many fellers in the fight, and Winter—"

"Somers," interposed the second sailor.

"Yes; that was it. Somers got pretty badly used up. His scalp was cut some considerable. He was taken into a house nearby, and a doctor called in to stitch him up. Somers sent us to find his messmates. We found your friend, Hastings, and took him around there. Hastings wanted us to find you, and bring you there, messmate."

"Poor old Eph!" muttered Jack. "Tough luck, and at a bad time for us."

"We'll take you 'round to where your messmates are," volunteered the sailor. "Hastings was particular that you come at once."

"I'll get a carriage to bring Mr. Somers home in," Jack suggested.

"Oh, your messmate, Hastings, has sent a feller for a carriage," broke in the first sailor, hastily.

"Good enough," Jack nodded. "Then say, boys, I'll just run back to the hotel. I left Radwin in there. I'll be right back with you. You'll wait for me, surely, won't you?"

"Oh, sure!" chorused both sailors. Then, as Jack Benson scurried down the street, the two supposed sailors turned to each other, chuckling softly.

"Sure we'll waits" repeated one of the pair.

It was several minutes ere Jack returned, coming up almost breathlessly.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, boys," he spoke, hastily. "But I'm here at last."

"Oh, that's all right, messmate. Come along and we'll pilot you straight to your friend, Winter—"

"Somers," corrected the other sailor.

Between the pair, some two minutes later, Jack Benson turned off a side street into an alleyway. The houses down in this alley were dark. Most of the little buildings here were occupied only in the daytime, as junk shops and old rag stores.

"Don't mind the dark," spoke one of the sailors, as he pushed open a door. "There's light enough on the second floor. That's where you'll find your friend, Winter."

"Somers," remonstrated the second sailor.

On the dark stairway Jack Benson found himself suddenly attacked, not only by the sailor pair, but by at least two other men, as well.



CHAPTER IX

BUT SOMETHING HAPPENED NEXT

"Oh, you—" Jack shot out, hoarsely, he felt himself borne under by crushing weight.

"Go easy, messmate, and you'll sleep more peaceful to-night!" chuckled one of the sailors, holding a big hand over the submarine boy's mouth, while another unseen assailant pinned Jack's hands at the wrists.

Flare! A sudden glow of light illumined the dark hallway. Then more light.

"Jerusby!" howled one of the sailor pair, leaping to his feet.

Instantly there was consternation among all the assailants.

In the excitement, young Benson was forgotten. Freed from assault, he leaped to his feet.

The flare of light had come from two bull's-eye police lanterns, held in the open doorway below.

"There are the scoundrels, men! Grab them!" shouted a voice of authority.

The speaker and two other men were in police uniforms. Four other men there were in ordinary civilian garb.

In the excitement Jack Benson let his fist fly, knocking one of the sailors headlong down the stairs. But the submarine boy did not pause there. His other fist, landed on the second sailor, sending him after the first.

"Club their heads off, if any of 'em put up a fight," commanded the police officer in charge.

Two other men, not in sailors' uniform cowered on the stairs, close to the young submarine captain. There was no fight, beyond the blows that young Benson struck. Cowed by the unexpected appearance of the law's force, the quartette of rascals surrendered. There was a clicking of handcuffs.

"Your chief thought I was crazy, or telling him fairy stories over the telephone," laughed Captain Jack Benson. "Now, I guess—"

"I am the Chief of police," retorted the officer in authority. "I thought that, if anything such as you described were happening in Colfax, then I'd better come along myself to investigate. But now, perhaps you can explain more than you did over the 'phone from the Somerset House?"

"I have the best of reasons," Jack replied, "for imagining that two of my friends have disappeared by the same trick that was tried on me. If that is so, I'm mighty anxious to find them as soon as possible."

"Do any of you scoundrels know where this young gentleman's friends are?" demanded the chief, turning to glare at his prisoners, lined up along the wall in the lower hallway. "The man that talks quickly now may get off easier than the rest, later on."

"There's two boys bound and gagged in the sub-cellar of this place," spoke one of the two prisoners not in uniform.

"Good enough," nodded the chief of police, looking at the informant. "Officer Davis, you come with me. You may come, too, Mr. Benson. The rest of you wait where you are."

The door to the cellar was locked, but the police chief, with a skeleton key, soon had the lock forced. Passing down into the cellar, their way lighted by one of the bull's-eye lanterns, they found a trap opening upon a stairway down into the sub-cellar below.

Here they came upon Hal and Eph, both securely bound and gagged, and lying on piles of old rags. It was not long ere the two submarine boys were free and on their feet, wholly overjoyed.

"Great Scott! How did you ever find us here?" quivered Eph Somers.

"I'll tell you when we get away from here," smiled Skipper Jack.

Up the stairs they went. One of the police party, in the meantime, had gone out to telephone for a covered police van. Into this the four prisoners were hustled and locked securely in.

Those of the police party who did not go with the van soon vanished, all, save Chief Ward.

"Now, Captain Benson," muttered the chief of police, "I want to congratulate you on your clever wit and sound judgment. I also want to thank you for enabling me to run down a gang like that. I fully understand that in the morning, you have to be away on a very important submarine test, and that it would be wholly inconvenient for you to have to appear in court. So I won't expect you. On the testimony that my men and I can give the judge will continue the case until such time as you can appear. My men already understand that none of the prisoners are to be allowed to communicate with outside friends to-night or to-morrow morning. So you may be sure that no news of their arrest will leak out. And now, good-night, boys. Congratulations, again, and thanks!"

Nor were Jack Benson and his friends long in vanishing, either. They did not go back at all by the way of the Somerset House. They went down to the water-front by a different route. Yet they were fortunate enough to find a shore boat that put them out on board the "Benson."

"And now, Jack, old fellow," exploded Eph, as they sat in the snug security of their little cabin, "don't you dare think of anything else until you tell us how you brought a seeming miracle about."

"Oh, that was easy," laughed Jack Benson, gleefully. "In the first place, it was mighty queer, Eph, that we left you on that corner—and you vanished. Then we left Hal on that same corner—and the earth swallowed him up. Then two fake sailors stopped me at that very same corner—"

"How did you know they were fake sailors?" broke in Hal. "I never suspected their genuineness."

"Why, see here," glowed Jack, "a United States Man-of-warsman has respect for an officer's uniform drilled into him twenty-four hours in the day. We're not officers of the Navy, but we wear a uniform that is very much like the uniform of a naval officer, all but the insignia of rank. What is the consequence? Every sailor we meet sees the uniform, and says 'sir' to us by sheer force of habit. Why, you both know that a good many sailors who pass us give us the regular salute. Yet these two fake sailors hailed me as 'messmate' and were as familiar in every other way as they knew how to be."

"Gracious! When they spoke to me, I never thought of that little point," confessed Hal.

"So I told the pretended sailors," continued Captain Jack, "that I'd run down to the hotel, and that I'd be right back."

"Did you tell anyone where you were going?" demanded Eph.

"No one was there that I knew. Instead, I slipped into the telephone room, at the side of the lobby, and called up the chief of police. I happened to get the chief himself on the wire. He thought I was a drunken sailor, or else that I was out of my head. But he finally agreed to have some detectives on hand to see the sailors take me away in tow."

"Then—?" pursued Eph.

"Why, then I waited long enough to give the detectives a chance to reach the scene. Then I went back and walked into the trap with the fake sailors."

It was a story that was hugely enjoyed by the young submarine captain's comrades.

"But who would put up such a queer job on us?" demanded Hal.

"It must be some one who didn't want us to man a Pollard boat in to-morrow's speed test, of course," nodded Jack. "It seems like a mean thing to say, and we ought to be sure, but I believe Rhinds and Radwin are the offenders."

The more the submarine boys talked it over, the more they were inclined to fall in line with the guess that Rhinds and Radwin had been behind their troubles.

"Some one has got to suffer for this business, before we get through!" cried Captain Jack, his eyes flashing ominously. "But come, now, fellows, we must go to bed, for we must have enough sleep if we're to be good and fit in to morrow's race."

It was rather late, that evening when Messrs. Farnum and Pollard, still with John C. Rhinds, returned to the Somerset House.

"I don't see our youngsters about, anywhere," muttered Jacob Farnum. "But their room keys are gone from the clerk's rack, so I guess they've turned in, like sensible fellows."

They did not know that Radwin himself had secretly removed the keys in order to create the impression that the boys were in bed.

Rhinds and Radwin talked in whispers, behind the locked door of another room. They chuckled a long while, then shook hands and went to bed.

The boys, however, as we know, were safely aboard the submarine.

Mr. Farnum had left a call for eight o'clock in the morning. It was about twenty minutes later that Farnum and Pollard knocked loudly on the door of the room occupied by Rhinds.

"Well?" demanded Mr. Rhinds, opening the door, and appearing, minus coat and vest. "Ah, good morning, gentlemen. Going down to breakfast? I'll be ready in a few moments."

"Breakfast—nothing!" retorted Jacob Farnum, sharply. "Our young men are missing. We went to their rooms this morning, and could get no answer. We've had their doors opened with pass-keys—our three young submarine officers haven't been in their beds all night long!"

John C. Rhinds allowed his face to express more surprise than concern over this news.

"Oh, well," he remarked, "boys will be boys, you know—especially when they're sailors."

"Our boys are not that sort," retorted Mr. Farnum, sharply. "They are not hoodlums or racketers."

"Then of course you'll find 'em safe on one of your boats," proposed Mr. Rhinds, innocently. "Just two minutes, and I'll go down to breakfast with you."

Radwin, too, joined them. He also expressed surprise, artfully. All four went to the breakfast room together. Messrs. Farnum and Pollard ate well enough, though they seemed badly worried.

"There's just one thing about it, of course," sighed Jacob Farnum, as the party left the table. "If our youngsters are not on one of our boats, then we've got to lose the speed race to-day. None of us can handle the boats the way they do."

"Oh, you'll find the boys all right on one of the boats," asserted Fred Radwin, confidently.

The rivals went down to the water front together. It was well after nine o'clock when they entered a shore boat.

"We'll go out to your craft, first," proposed Mr. Rhinds, "You'll feel so much better, gentlemen, when you find your crew all right. I'll feel better, too, for I wouldn't want to beat you unfairly to-day."

Grant Andrews and two of his workmen stood on the platform deck of the "Benson," leaning against the conning tower, when the shore boat came within hail.

"I am afraid to call out to Grant, and ask him," faltered the shipbuilder.

"Then don't do it," returned Mr. Rhinds, sympathetically. "Just wait until we get alongside, and you'll see your young men popping out of the conning tower, rested and as bright as new buttons."

A moment later the shore boat rounded in alongside. Then, quite suddenly, the three submarine boys projected themselves through the manhole, and stood in full view on the platform deck.

"Eh? Hey?" gasped John C. Rhinds, utterly nonplussed.

Fred Radwin's lower jaw seemed to drop several inches. He stared as though he were seeing ghosts, while a sickly, greenish pallor crept into his handsome face.

"By Jove, you were right, Rhinds!" gasped Jacob Farnum, turning. "Thank you, old man, for keeping our courage up."

"Good morning, Mr. Farnum! Good Morning Mr. Pollard!" chorused the three submarine boys. Then, favoring Rhinds and Radwin with brief glances:

"Good morning—gentlemen!"

"Gentlemen?" repeated Eph, disgustedly, under his breath. "I think not!"

Though Rhinds and his agent speedily managed to look pleasant, they hadn't gotten their spirits back when the shore boat pulled away.

Farnum and Pollard went hurriedly below, where Jack and his comrades followed.

"Jack! Jack! Thank you a million times!" gasped Farnum, seizing the young captain's hand, then giving the other boys the same hearty gripping handshake. "Your note that we got, this morning, gave us the information we needed and we knew just how to act."

"And, from the way Rhinds and his fellow acted, when they caught sight of you boys," added David Pollard, "we can form a pretty good idea of who tried to shanghai you three last night."

"The scoundrels!" glowered Farnum, in righteous rage.

"Now, sir," cried Jack, laughing savagely, "why did those fellows try such a trick on us? Because they hoped, thereby, to beat us in the distance speed race to-day."

"Of course," nodded the shipbuilder, still savage. "Rhinds builds fast submarines. I know that, from the reports I've had. Plainly, the Pollard boats are the only craft he feels much afraid of."

"He'll be more than afraid, to-night," vaunted Jack Benson, proudly. "More than afraid, sir. When the figures of to-day's distance speed course are in John C. Rhinds will be frozen cold!"

"If we have to turn on gasoline and run the engines so hot we blow the whole deck off!" confirmed Hal Hastings, explosively.

"If I should be inclined to forget to-day," growled Eph Somers, "I have a pain in my head, from a crack I received last night, that will put me in mind of the whole outrage, and keep me strictly on the job of vengeance!"

"I guess you youngsters have the winning fire all right, for to-day," smiled Jacob Farnum, grimly.

"Are you going to enter both boats in to-day's race?" asked Jack, more thoughtfully.

"We can't," replied the shipbuilder. "Captain Magowan told me, last night, that, since the Rhinds people and ourselves are the only makers who have more than one boat here, today's race will be confined to one craft representative of each make. So, which boat do you prefer to take out to-day, Jack?"

"It doesn't make a bit of difference which one," returned young Captain Benson. "Between the 'Hastings' and the 'Benson' there isn't a hair's breadth to choose. But with either boat, sir, I believe that, to-day, we can run any Rhinds boat off the surface of the ocean!"

It was all very good to have such confidence in their boat. Yet was it to be justified?

* * * * * * * * * *

Almost immediately came the first blow. A telegram came on board, addressed to Williamson. The latter's brother was seriously ill at home, and the machinist had to leave at once, going north by the next train. As it happened, the brother speedily recovered, but this incident for the time left the Farnum forces the losers of a highly useful man in the engine room.



CHAPTER X

JOHN C. RHINDS ADVOCATES FAIR SPORT!

Boom! From over the port rail of the "Oakland" a dense cloud of grayish white smoke belched out.

Through it flashed a streak of red.

As the "Oakland" was the temporary flagship of this fleet of two gunboats, this gunfire was the signal for the submarines to move on out of the bay.

Lieutenant Danvers had already come over to the "Benson" from the flagship. Danvers bore with him the orders of the naval board. Moreover, the lieutenant was to remain on the Pollard craft that day. Each submarine that was entered for the race had a naval officer on board, who was to give directions, at need, and to act as judge of conduct.

"Just get under way easily, and move out, Mr. Benson," advised Danvers. "Eight or nine miles will be fast enough to go."

Jack and the naval officer stood by the platform deck steering wheel as the "Benson" left her moorings.

Back by the conning tower stood Messrs. Farnum and Pollard. Eph was below, until otherwise needed, to render Hal any necessary help in the engine room.

"There goes the Rhinds boats" called Mr Farnum, as one of the other submarines left her moorings, making for sea in the wake of the "Chelsea," which gunboat was to act as the starter's boat for that day.

"What's the name of that particular Rhinds boat?" asked Jack.

"The 'Zelda'," replied Lieutenant Danvers.

"Nice, lady-like name for a fighting boat," mocked Jack.

"You don't seem to like the Rhinds people," hinted the naval officer.

"I don't," Jack admitted, bluntly.

"Well, I suppose it isn't human nature to be fond of our rivals," assented the naval officer, slowly.

"I've other reasons, of my own, for disliking Rhinds," muttered the submarine boy.

"He hasn't what you could call a wholesome face," smiled Danvers. "In fact, I think Mr. Rhinds must be a self-made man, made very badly. I can't quite think that he has anything of the human face divine."

Jack laughed, but bitterly.

"The 'Zelda' is the boat we have to beat today," he added.

"I wonder if you'll do it?" muttered Lieutenant Danvers, gazing suddenly over at the "Zelda," now well ahead and cutting a white path of foam. "Great guns, look at her go!"

Jack did glance up and ahead. He felt a sinking at heart, for the moment. For the "Zelda" was showing a burst of speed that was calculated to make any rival thoughtful.

"Mr. Farnum," Jack called back, "will you pass the word for Hal to come on deck?"

Young Hastings was up in a moment!

"They're forcing that boat," muttered Hal, gazing after the "Zelda" uneasily. "I can overtake her, though, Jack, if you say the word."

"Do you think so?" asked Lieutenant Danvers, dubiously.

"Don't try it, Hal," Jack advised, quietly. "Save all overheated pistons and other parts for the final test."

The "Zelda" was now well ahead of the "Chelsea," which was putting out at cruising speed only.

Too-oot! toot! toot! sounded sharply, hoarsely, from the deep throat of the "Chelsea's" whistle.

"Good enough," muttered Lieutenant Danvers. "They've ordered the Rhinds scooter to slow clown and fall into line behind the gunboat."

"I'm sorry," muttered Hal.

"Why?" asked the naval lieutenant.

"I wish they had let old Rhinds go ahead and get all his machinery red-hot at the outset."

Then, slowly shaking his head, Hal Hastings went back to his post.

"Do you really think we can beat that scooter to-day, Hal?" inquired the shipbuilder, anxiously.

"Yes, sir."

"What makes you so certain, lad?"

"Why, we'll beat her just because we've got to do it, sir," Hastings replied, then hurried below.

"Hal isn't any too sure," muttered David Pollard, restlessly. "Neither am I. Jake, we have a strong fight to make to-day. Somehow, Rhinds has managed to put a pretty lively engine in that boat of his. I had an idea she'd be two or three miles an hour slower."

"Probably we haven't been shown anything like the 'Zelda's' best speed, yet," replied Farnum, moodily.

Building and trying out submarine torpedo boats is the kind of work to make many a man's hair turn prematurely white. As success depends solely upon actual showings made, the anxiety of any builder during a series of competitive tests in which several makes of boat are entered can be easily understood.

Messrs. Farnum and Pollard were plainly on tenterhooks that day. They might well be. Should the Rhinds boat carry away the honors on that day and on the subsequent days of the present tests, then Farnum and Pollard, who had their entire fortunes invested in this business, would have on their hands only so much scrap steel, brass and iron.

Nor would Jack and his comrades fare any better. If the boys were vanquished, Farnum and Pollard would have no more work for them. No other submarine company would want the services of losers.

"Keep your nerve to-day, won't you, Benson?" asked Lieutenant Danvers, in a low tone.

"Why?" queried Jack, with the ghost of a smile, as he glanced into the naval officer's face. "Have I been showing any nervousness?"

"Not yet, and I don't want you to."

"Are you as interested as that in us, Mr. Danvers?"

"I like you, Benson—like you from the deck up, and I don't want to see you lose a single point in the game. That's all."

Eph Somers came on deck, presently.

"Hal says he doesn't need me below for the present, Jack, so I came up to relieve you at the wheel. I don't want to see your steering wrist going stale when the race starts, so you'd better let me have the wheel, while you keep yourself fresh for the real work."

"As the race hasn't begun yet," broke in Lieutenant Danvers, "there is no impropriety in my taking the wheel out to the start, if you'll trust me to handle your boat."

"Trust a naval officer?" laughed Jack Benson, flashing a smile of gratitude at the lieutenant. "That's a funny idea to suggest."

Danvers took the wheel silently, then devoted his whole thought, apparently, to the—for him—simple task that he had in hand.

Outside the bay the "Chelsea" signaled to the submarine boats to slow up. Then the gunboat moved over to temporary anchorage. A line between the gunboat's bow and the lighthouse on Groton Point, to the northward, was to furnish the imaginary starting line. This line the five competing submarine torpedo boats must, at second gunfire, cross as nearly together as possible. There were penalties, of course, for any one boat trying to steal a lead over the rest.

By this time the fast gunboat "Oakland," which had a safe speed of twenty-four knots an hour, under forced draught, lay to, some two miles further out. The "Oakland's" task was to stick close to the leaders, and, at the end, to decide which craft had won.

Boom! The first gun sounded over the starboard side of the "Chelsea." In five minutes' time the second gun would thunder out—and the racers would be off!

Such a scurrying as there was then among these five little craft of war!

Captain Jack Benson had the wheel again. Henceforth, Lieutenant Danvers was to be but a spectator—a judge, at need, and on his honor, as an officer of the United States Navy, to show no partiality to those on whose boat he found himself.

As Eph might be needed on deck, at any instant, he stood leaning against the conning tower.

David Pollard was missing. He had gone below, had taken off his coat, and was standing in shirt-sleeves, ready to render any possible aid to Hal Hastings, the young chief engineer on whom so much depended in the six hours to come.

Now that one of the supreme moments in his career had come, Jacob Farnum hardly dared breathe. He said not a word to Eph, who, just as anxious, stood at his elbow.

As the submarine craft scurried over the waves, each seeking its best place for a start over the line, the "Zelda" came up within sixty yards, running alongside for a moment or two.

John C. Rhinds, standing at the rail of his own craft, with what was intended to be a smile his face, waved his hat wildly at Jacob Farnum.

"Good luck to you, Farnum—and to us!" bellowed Rhinds. "Of course, I'd like to win today, but if you've the better boat, go ahead and leave us at the finish. May the best craft win, no hard feelings! Fair sport all the way through, Farnum, old and to you, Benson—may you never be in fitter shape than to-day!"

"The old hypocrite!" gasped Jack, vengefully "I'm mighty sorry I can't head this boat around and run it straight down his lying throat!"

"Then he'd surely gobble you up!" laughed Lieutenant Danvers. "But be careful, lad! Don't let vengeful thoughts get into your head and stick to-day. You've got to keep yourself cool and your nerve steady. Look out, now, for the second gun!"

All five of the submarines were manoeuvering for the starting line.

Boom! The second gun roared out, and the six hours' speed and endurance test was on!



CHAPTER XI

THE STRAIN OF RED-HOT METAL

First over the line passed the "Zelda," but it was a fair get-away. How her propellers churned the foam now!

Just as it happened, and through no fault of handling, Jack Benson got the Pollard craft over the line third. At the outset, therefore, his boat was distanced some twenty-four seconds by the leader.

"Steady, now!" called Jacob Farnum, in low tones. "We've six hours in which to make up a few seconds."

If Captain Jack heard, he gave no sign.

For the next few minutes the youthful commander seemed to forget everything but the wheel under his hand, and the course and speed of the craft he commanded.

That the "Benson" was slowly losing was not, at first, clear to anyone on board. It took time to draw out the increasing lead of the other craft, but, after a while, it became more and more evident.

True, the "Benson" was second in the line—but the "Zelda" was first.

At the end of an hour there were drops of clammy ooze on Captain Jack's forehead. He was steering as well as he had ever steered in his life. Hal had sent up word that the "Benson's" engines were doing all that could fairly be required of them.

That troublesome hour up, Captain Jack called to Eph to take the helm.

A few moments later the youthful commander appeared again on the platform deck, carrying a range-finder on a tripod. Through the telescope he took some rapid sights, then did some quick figuring. When he looked up Benson saw Jacob Farnum standing within four feet of him. The shipbuilder's face looked gray and haggard.

"How much?" asked Jacob Farnum.

"Shade more than a quarter of a mile in the lead of us, sir," Jack replied.

"Have you been down to talk to Hal?"

"What's the use, sir?" demanded Jack. "Hal Hastings knows how much depends on speed. He's doing everything that his engineer's conscience will allow. Besides, David Pollard is there with him, sir."

"I've no orders to give," Jacob Farnum sighed, stepping back. "You youngsters know what you're about, and how much depends upon our success to-day."

Indeed, Jack Benson knew! As he silently took his place at the wheel again deep lines appeared in his youthful face. He knew, this forenoon, what it meant to suffer.

At the end of the second hour, Jack again called Eph to take a short relief trick at the wheel. But Jack, instead of resting, promptly placed the range-finder. As he tried to adjust the telescope the submarine boy's hands shook. Jack glanced over at Lieutenant Danvers, cool and impassive. Danvers knew all about working that range-finder. But the naval officer was aboard as an official spectator. If the lieutenant aided in any way, then the Pollard submarine would be disqualified.

Jack's work was more slow, this time. It was some moments before he had the new range figured out.

"How far astern of the 'Zelda' are we now?" called Jacob Farnum.

"A shade over a half a mile."

"Whew! And the race only a third run."

"In other words," went on the young captain, "the Rhinds boat is gaining steadily on us at the rate of a quarter of a mile an hour. Not much, yet enough to win the race beyond any dispute."

"Can't we catch up over that distance?" asked Jacob Farnum.

"Not now, anyway, sir."

Jack went back beside the wheel. Somehow, he did not feel like taking the spokes into his own hands. Instead, he wheeled, silently, going back, through the conning tower, and down to the engine room.

"How do we stand with the Rhinds craft?" asked David Pollard, who sat on one of the cushioned seats in the engine room.

"Half a mile behind, sir."

Pollard got up slowly, then went through and up the stairs to the deck.

For some moments Hal and Jack talked together, in low tones. Both looked rather glum, until Hal suggested something that sent a little ray of hope into Benson's eyes.

"We'll see," muttered the young captain. "It looks like a forlorn hope, though, Hal."

At the end of the third hour the "Zelda" had added another quarter mile to the lead, while the "Oakland" showing the way, was a good mile ahead of the foremost racer.

When four hours had gone by the Rhinds boat was discovered to be just about a mile ahead of her nearest competitor. The Seawold boat, third in line, was half a mile behind the "Benson," and the Blackson boat, last of all, was two miles behind the Pollard boat's stern. But Jack and his friends had long ago ceased to feel any interest in the tail-enders.

The race was to be over at five o'clock. At half-past three, or four hours and a half after the start, Jack found, by the help of the rangefinder, that the Rhinds boat led by a mile and an eighth.

"Keep the wheel, Eph!" called the Young commander. "Steer as straight as you can. I'll be up soon."

Then Jack Benson darted below, though his legs trembled a bit under him.

"All ready, Hal!" shouted the youthful commander. "Play our one trump card, and play it as hard as you can! Though I'm afraid Rhinds has just such a card in his own pack."

Then up to the platform deck hastened Jack Benson. He moved quietly to the wheel, taking it from Eph. The young captain did not propose to leave again until the race was over.

Soon after this something happened that must have made those aboard the Rhinds boat feel uneasy. The "Benson" began to crawl up on the "Zelda."

"What are you doing now, Jack?" called Jacob Farnum sharply, as he and Pollard moved forward to stand by the young captain.

"I'll tell you, in a few minutes, if our move seems to be any good, sir," Jack answered.

By four o'clock half the space between the Rhinds boat and the Pollard craft had been covered. By this time two men were observed aft on the "Zelda," their gaze turned steadily on the "Benson."

"Take the wheel for two or three minutes, Eph," begged the young captain, on whom the strain was beginning to tell.

Then, turning to his employers, Jack went on:

"The way Hal and I figured it out, sir, the 'Benson' is really the faster boat. But the Rhinds people may have been overheating their engines—slightly, systematically, and using a lot of water to cool the metal. Now, if that is the case, they may be doing their best at forced speed. Hal and I determined, if we didn't lose more than a quarter of a mile an hour, we'd rather let the 'Zelda' keep the lead, and go on slowly overheating her engines. But now, in the last hour and a half of the race, Hal is up to the same trick. If that has been the case with the 'Zelda,' and they now, at this late hour, go to any greater lengths in overheating, they're likely to blow the engines out of their hull. But we can stand the present speed, with its gradual overheating, up to the finish time for the race. If both boats keep going at the speed they're using now, and neither has an accident, we stand to come in half a mile in the lead."

"Good strategy, that, Jack!" cried Jacob Farnum, his eyes gleaming. "To let the other fellow take the risk of overheating his machinery all day, while we do it only in the last part of the race. My boy, I'm hopeful we may win yet."

"So am I, sir," muttered Benson. "Still, there's the risk that John C. Rhinds may have something more up his sleeve. We'll know before long, anyway."

By twenty minutes past four the "Benson" was almost close enough to the other submarine to throw a biscuit across the intervening space, had any on board the Pollard craft been inclined that way.

John C. Rhinds stood by the starboard rail of his own craft, regarding the rival with anxious eyes. But Jack knew the rascal to be so wily that the look of anxiety might be feigned.

Up, nearer and nearer! Jack was moving to the starboard of the "Zelda," as the "Oakland" was on that same side of the course.

"The old wretch isn't shouting out anything about fair play and good luck to us, now," muttered Jack, vengefully, as, at half-past four, the two craft ran neck and neck, but little over a hundred yards apart.

Then the "Benson" began to forge ahead. The "Zelda" still hung on, but she was plainly in second place.

David Pollard hurried below, to see what he could do to help Hal Hastings in this supreme crisis.

"We're leaving her right behind," rang Jack Benson's voice, exultantly. "The 'Zelda's' old speed was her best, even at overheating. If nothing happens, now, we'll go in first!"

Interest, now, led those on the "Benson's" deck aft. Eph, being at the wheel, could be trusted not to look around, but to keep his eyes straight on the gunboat mark ahead.

John C. Rhinds could be seen, hanging limply over the rail of the "Zelda," his straining vision turned ahead. But he was being left more and more to the rear.

Boom! The sound came suddenly over the water, at last. All hands aft on the "Benson" ran forward, to find the "Oakland" swinging around so that her bow pointed the path for the leading submarine.

Eph remained at the wheel, steering steadily. He carried the "Benson" past the gunboat's bow, some seventy yards away. A cheer went up from the sailors crowding forward on the gunboat's spar deck. The cheer would have sounded, no matter which submarine had won.

Then Eph cut a wide circle, coming back close to the gunboat.

"You win!" shouted an officer at the "Oakland's" rail.

"Of course," nodded Lieutenant Danvers, "But what distance?"

"The board allows you half a mile and a furlong."

Captain Jack Benson, now that the strain was over, felt as though the platform deck were sinking under him.

"Let me have that wheel," commanded Jacob Farnum, stepping forward. "Jack, you and Eph, below with you! Coffee, steak—and anything else—for all three of you youngsters!"



CHAPTER XII

LET A SAILOR STICK TO HIS DECK

It was after midnight when the "Benson," first in, went to her moorings. Grant Andrews and two of his men came on board, to stand guard over the little sea-terror.

It was after one in the morning when the Seawold craft strayed into port. A little later came the "Chelsea" and the remaining submarine rivals, for the gunboat had stood by the slower ones in case aid of any sort was needed.

As the "Zelda" came to her moorings in the inky blackness John C. Rhinds stepped out upon her platform deck. Rhinds, after his disappointment, looked like a very old man. He paced back and forth, moodily, until his captain and crew had gone below. Then Rhinds turned, with a half snarl, when Fred Radwin, after lighting a cigar, stepped outside.

"Feeling glum?" asked Radwin, stupidly, as he gazed at his chief.

"A fool question that!" snapped the older man.

"It is, rather," admitted the younger man.

"Radwin, you're an idiot!"

"Thank you!"

"You told me you had those three Pollard boys taken care of—'canned' was the word you used. Yet, the first thing we saw, when we me out on the harbor, was those same boys, looking their finest. And they went into today's affair and beat us. We've lost the speed and endurance test."

"Those boys were trapped, all right," protested Radwin, in a low tone. "I can't begin to imagine how they ever got loose again."

"They got loose because you're a fool!" raged the older man.

"I'm good-natured, Mr. Rhinds" cried Radwin, an ugly gleam coming into his eyes, "but I don't stand everything. You'll need me yet so you'll do well to keep a civil tongue behind your teeth!"

"Stop that! Don't try any mighty airs on me!" quivered Rhinds.

"Oh, blow off your steam, quietly, and then become reasonable," yawned Fred Radwin. "First thing you know, you'll really make an enemy of me, and then the trick will be done, Rhinds. For you need me. Just now, you need me worse than you ever did in your life before."

"Need you?" sneered the other. "What for?"

"Well, for one thing, there are other tests ahead of the submarine boats."

"Can you win any of those tests?" jeered Rhinds, harshly.

"No; but I can do what will, perhaps, be the next best thing. I can stop the boys aboard the Pollard craft from being on hand to put their boat through all its paces. All you need is to have the Pollard end blocked. You can more than hold your end against the other submarines."

"Well, what can you do to stop the boys on the Pollard boats?" demanded Rhinds, unbelievingly.

"I can stop them from being on hand at the next tests. Or else I can attend to them so that they'll be of very little use, anyway."

"Bah! You're dreaming, Fred! The boys were too smart for you last time; Now that they're on their guard, don't you realize they'd be harder than ever to catch."

"Jack Benson and his friends don't know that I was behind what happened last night," retorted Radwin. "Besides, if they're on their guard, now, so am I. I know them to be smarter than I first thought, so I shall spread a deeper, tighter net for them. John Rhinds, you shall win the rest of the submarine tests. At least, the Pollard boats won't win!"

Radwin talked so confidently that John Rhinds began to look at him more hopefully.

"What are you going to do, Fred?" the wretch inquired, at last.

"I'm going on shore—now."

"Everybody will know, if you call a boat at this hour of the night."

"Bosh! You and I are both going on shore—back to the Somerset House. Anything very strange about that?" demanded Radwin. "We're tired out from the day's cruise, and want to be off the water. So we're going to the Somerset. We'll drift in, get something to eat, and then start upstairs. You can hardly go to sleep, Rhinds, but I shall start out again, on the sly, and go to find some handy people I know in the little city of Colfax. So that's settled, and I'll signal for the boat now."

Jack and his comrades slept on the "Benson" that night. For one thing, they felt so tired, after the day's long strain, that they really lacked the desire even to go to larger, softer beds on shore. So they awoke in the morning feeling as fresh as sea-larks should.

"There are no tests on for to-day, and nothing to be done on board, except to clean the engines," spoke Jacob Farnum over the breakfast table in the little cabin. "So, youngsters, we'll go ashore and refresh ourselves. Grant's men will clean the engines. That's what they're really here for."

"Don't you think it would be wiser, sir, to remain on board?" smiled Captain Jack. "As you will remember, we found the shore rather too lively the last time we were there."

"Things happened because you boys got out of our sight," chuckled the shipbuilder, quietly. "That's the point. What you youngsters need is a brace of guardians. So, while you're to go on shore, Dave and I will go along, and you're not to get out of our sight. Remember that."

"We'll be safe, then," nodded Eph, sagely. "I surely do want to stretch my legs, and take a yawn or two where a sea-gull won't flap down my throat."

Of course, the idea of going on shore really appealed to all hands. So, half an hour later, a shore boat put off with them all, leaving Grant and his men still in charge.

"I wonder what the next test is going to be?" asked Jack.

"I shall have to refer you to the members of the naval board, and they won't tell until this evening," replied Mr. Farnum. "That's one of their rules—no news until the evening before. That prevents too much time being spent in preparation. One of the objects of these tests is to find out how well the different types of submarines can do things on short notice."

"That's right," nodded Captain Jack, thoughtfully. "Really, when you come to think of it, submarine torpedo boats are short notice craft anyway."

"And, best of all, with no notice whatever to the enemy," broke in Eph. "In future wars it's going to give a good deal of comfort to a fellow to think that he serves on a submarine, instead of on a battleship."

"Where are you going to stop on shore, Jake?" inquired Pollard.

"At the Somerset," responded Mr. Farnum.

"Then we're likely to run into that Rhinds-Radwin crowd."

"We can stand it, if they can," replied Farnum, compressing his lips grimly. "Our consciences are cleaner than theirs."

Indeed, in passing from the lobby to the breakfast room, where the Pollard party intended to take coffee, Messrs. Rhinds and Radwin were encountered just as they were coming out.

"Ah, good morning, gentlemen," hailed John C. Rhinds, halting and holding out his hand. Fred Radwin, too, beamed cordially upon the enemy.

"'Morning," replied Jacob Farnum, ignoring the outstretched hand of Rhinds. Radwin's ready-made smile, too, was overlooked, as the Pollard submarine party filed by into the breakfast room.

"I don't believe they'll waste any make-believe cordiality on us, after that," grimaced Mr. Pollard, as he dropped into a chair at a table.

Fifteen minutes later a stout, rather short, middle-aged man entered the breakfast room in haste. He spoke to the head waiter, who pointed out the table at which the submarine party sat.

Then the head waiter came over with a card and a letter which he handed to Farnum.

"'Mr. Walter C. Hodges,'" read Farnum, from the card. Then, glancing at the envelope "'Introducing Mr. Hodges.' It's from Judson, proprietor of the hotel where I stop when in Washington," continued the shipbuilder, as he glanced through the letter. "He asks me to extend any possible courtesies to Mr. and Miss Hodges, for whom he vouches cordially."

Rising, Mr. Farnum stepped over to meet Mr. Hodges, shaking hands with the stranger. Then the pair walked back to the table. Farnum quickly presented Mr. Hodges to the others.

"Judson asks me to extend to you any possible courtesies," pursued the shipbuilder. "I shall be very glad. Now, what can I do that will be most agreeable to you?"

"Why—er—er—" began Mr. Hodges, hesitatingly, "the thing that my daughter and I are most interested in is your line of boats. In fact, we came over to Colfax to see what we could of the boats and the tests. Now, my daughter and I would both like very much to go aboard one of your boats. Yet, if this would be at all irregular, or cause you any inconvenience, I beg you to refuse us, and we shall understand your refusal."

None the less, the shipbuilder did feel and look embarrassed.

"I wish it were anything else on earth," Farnum replied, frankly. "For, though it gives me more pain than you can understand, my dear Mr. Hodges, it will be absolutely impossible for us to admit anyone to the submarine boats during the present tests."

"Then say no more about it," replied Mr. Hodges, pleasantly. "I can quite understand your position."

"There is just a bare chance, though," mused the shipbuilder, "that I might manage to obtain an invitation for your daughter and yourself to go out on one of the gunboats, and watch the submarine craft at their work."

"Fine!" cried Hodges, with enthusiasm. "Yet, if it will inconvenience you in the least, Mr. Farnum, I beg you to give no further thought to it. Will you all, as soon as you are finished, come to the ladies' parlor with me? My daughter will be most delighted at meeting real submarine people."

"We are finished, now," replied Mr. Farnum, laying down his cigar, "and it will give us great pleasure to have the privilege of meeting Miss Hodges."

Though Hodges himself appeared a very common type of business man, and was plainly dressed, Miss Elinor Hodges proved to be a beautiful girl of about nineteen, and attired in the height of fashion.

She was, however, most charming and gracious, and evidently greatly interested in everything that had to do with submarine boats.

An hour's very pleasant chat followed in the ladies' parlor. Then Hodges, seeing an automobile pass one of the windows and halt before the ladies' entrance of the hotel, suddenly drew out his watch.

"Elinor, my dear, do you see the time?" demanded her father, holding out his watch. Then, as the submarine party rose, prepared to take their leave, Hodges turned to Farnum, explaining rapidly:

"Yes; unfortunately, we have an appointment, and must defer the further pleasure of seeing you until this evening. But that auto car outside, which I did not order for this hour, and, in fact, cannot use for to-day, gives me an idea. It is a car that I have hired for a week. Now, Elinor and I are not going to use the car. Mr. Farnum, can't you and your friends make use of the car to-day?"

Jacob Farnum would have tried to decline, pleasantly, fearing the acceptance of the use of the automobile might seem to bind him to extend courtesies on one of his boats. But Mr. Hodges was so gently, firmly insistent that, in a very short time, the submarine party found themselves seated in the car.

There was an abundance of room, for it was a seven-passenger car, large and roomy.

"This car is a whizzer, I understand," smiled Mr. Hodges, from the sidewalk.

"It certainly is, sir," agreed the chauffeur.

"Well, chauffeur, take my friends wherever they want to go to-day, and do whatever they want. Above all, when you get out on a country road, show 'em some of your high speed."

"Yes, sir."

Honk! honk! The car rolled away, going slowly enough through the city streets. Jacob Farnum, who sat in front with the driver, lighted a cigar and settled back to enjoy himself.

"Any particular place you want to go, sir?" asked the chauffeur.

"No," replied the shipbuilder. "You know the way around this part of the world better than we do. Take us out into the surrounding country, and show us anything you consider of interest."

"Yes, sir."

After a few minutes the car had left Colfax behind. They were out on the beginning of a country road, now. The chauffeur let out a few notches of speed.

"Smooth-running car," commented Mr. Farnum.

"Runs just as smoothly, sir, at sixty miles an hour," replied the man.

"When we get a little further out, you can us some of that," smiled Mr. Farnum, contentedly.

"I will, sir."

"You boys afraid to go at sixty miles an hour?" asked the shipbuilder, turning to face those in the tonneau.

"Scared to death," laughed Jack Benson, gleefully.

As soon as the chauffeur considered that he had reached a little-enough-traveled part of the country road he let out the speed.

"My, but we're going some," called Farnum.

"Fifty miles," replied the chauffeur. "Now, I'll show you sixty."

The car seemed to leap forward. Then, it seemed to those in the tonneau as though they were beating any speed ever reached by an express train.

Whizz-zz! It was wild, exhilarating—dangerous!

"Say!" gasped Farnum. "If—"

That was as far as he got. The forward end of his side of the car sank to the ground. The car seemed trying to stand on its head.

Then it stopped, and all in it were hurled into the center of awful disaster.



CHAPTER XIII

THE TRICK IS EASILY SEEN THROUGH

In the next instant all had settled.

There had been a brief moment in which the air around the wrecked auto had seemed full of flying human beings.

Now, they lay by the road side in varying degrees of disaster.

The left front axle had broken, the wheel rolling some yards ere it stopped.

Jacob Farnum, seated right over the axle, was hurled out, head first as nearly as he could afterwards guess. How he avoided landing on his head and sustaining a broken neck or shattered skull was one of those miraculous things that no one can explain.

The chauffeur had plunged out over Farnum's head, alighting beyond the shipbuilder. The chauffeur now lay writhing and groaning.

David Pollard landed first, on one wrist and his chest, a cry of anguish escaping him.

Eph Somers lay in the road motionless. Jack and Hal fell against the padded side of the car. Hal remained there during the next second, but young Benson turned a half-somersault, lightly, landing in the road just outside.

It was young Captain Jack who first got to his feet. Dazed for a few moments, he rose slowly seeking for signs of injury.

"I—I believe I'm not hurt," he congratulated himself. "Thank heaven for that, for there are others here who seem in need of the promptest help."

First of all Jack turned to his chum, young Hastings. But Hal, though his face was white from the shock of it all, smiled back, then helped himself out of the wrecked car.

Within the next few minutes it developed that Eph had been stunned. Beyond this he had suffered no injury except a bruise along the left thigh.

Jacob Farnum proved to be only stunned and badly shaken. But David Pollard displayed a helpless left wrist and complained of severe pain in the left side of his chest.

The chauffeur had a broken left leg, a broken arm, and a mass of bruises on his face, where he had struck the hard earth.

"Great Scott, but this is almost like the carnage of war!" muttered Jack Benson. "Hal, you and Eph help Mr. Farnum with the others. I'm going down the road to the first house, and send for aid."

Arrived at a farm-house that proved to be connected with the telephone service, Jack 'phoned for the two nearest doctors, and for men to come and help the injured. Then he called up the garage from which the auto had been hired; this address being supplied by the chauffeur.

Then, accompanied by the man of the house, young Benson hurried back to the scene of the wreck. The submarine captain found that he had at least been so bruised and shaken up that speed on his feet hurt.

The first to arrive, of those summoned, was the owner of the garage in Colfax. He came in a large car, burning gasoline fast.

"I'm Graves, from the garage," he introduced himself, shutting off power and leaping out. "Jove, what a smash this is!"

Until two doctors and several men arrived Graves devoted himself to helping make the injured victims as comfortable as possible.

When the doctors and helpers appeared on the scene Graves soon called Jack Benson aside.

"There's something about this affair that must be investigated," declared the garage man, in an undertone. "The cars that I keep are all of one make, and there are no stauncher, safer cars made in the world. No such accident has ever before happened to one of my cars. Come; let's see what we can find out."

Graves didn't have to look far. He halted at the broken axle, staring at it hard. Then he looked over the broken casting from all sides.

"See here," Graves ground out, between his teeth, "all the axles on my cars are branded with the trade-mark of the maker, and the number of the inspector who passes the axles. Yet this axle is unbranded! Now, I happen to know that the left forward axle on this car—last night—was branded as usual, for I had the wheel off and looked it over. That I can swear to."

"Then another axle has been substituted?" demanded Jack, his eyes flashing.

"Yes, sirree."

"How long, after you saw the right axle in place here, was it before the car was taken from your garage?"

"According to the office books this car was taken from the garage at three o'clock this morning," replied Graves.

"By one of your own men?"

"No, sir! By a stranger who rented the car for a week, paid the rental price, and gave his name as Hodges. He seemed to understand all about running a car. He brought it back at six this morning."

"Was that time enough in which to substitute a defective axle?" Jack asked.

"Oh, yes; a man expert at such work could do it in considerably less time."

"Such a defective axle might run along smoothly, quite a while at low speed?" Benson persisted.

"Yes."

"But at high speed—?"

"Look at this axle!" continued the garage man, excitedly. "You know something about steel, don't you, young man?"

"Enough to run machinery."

"You see what a flawed piece of steel this is—unsuited to any strain? I don't believe this axle could stand the strain of high speed in a big auto for the distance of a mile."

"That's about all it stood with us," muttered Jack Benson, his face white, his jaws firmly set.

"There's been some nasty work here," continued the garage man. "It wasn't done by my chauffeur, either. He's probably the worst hurt of any in your party, which assures his innocence of a hand in the despicable work."

"Oh, I don't suspect your man—not for an instant," Jack assured the garage owner. "The truth is, I think I can guess just where to place the blame."

"Hodges turned this car over to you for a pleasure jaunt, didn't he?" demanded the garage owner.

"Yes."

"And it was the same fellow who took this car out before daylight. It wasn't used again until it was sent around for your party. Mr. Benson, I think we can both guess whom to suspect in this desperately wicked piece of business. If I can find that rascal, Hodges, I'll certainly lay violent hands on him!"

"Don't!" advised Jack, quietly. "In the first place, Mr. Graves, if you took the law into your own hands, you'd only get yourself into trouble. In the second place"—Jack Benson lowered his voice still more—"I know, as well as I know I'm living, that Hodges was only the agent of some one else. Mr. Graves, do me a great favor—a great favor to all our party. For the present, if you must say anything, say just as little as possible about the accident. Let it go at that. Don't throw out any suspicions against Hodges. Don't let anyone know that I have any suspicions. Just keep the whole thing quiet—and in that way we'll get the authors of this outrage."

"Are you sure?" demanded Graves, his look still darkly vengeful.

"You might talk to just one person—when there's no one else around to overhear you," Jack agreed. "That man is the chief of police in Colfax. In view of some other things that he knows the chief will agree with my view, and will thank you for keeping quiet and looking puzzled over this affair."

"All right," grumbled Mr. Graves. "I'll do as you ask, Mr. Benson—until I've talked with the chief of police, anyway."

By this time the badly-injured members of the party had received first attention from the doctors, and were now being lifted into a big farm wagon that had been brought to the scene. In this vehicle they were taken to the nearest house, where they were placed on beds for better attention.

"I'm going back to the city, now," announced the garage man to the young submarine captain. "I'm going to the chief of police, and I'll also see to it that a big auto ambulance is sent out to take your friends and my man to the hospital in town. Hang it, I hate to keep the truth in this matter quiet, even for a moment, and I wouldn't do it, only to see justice worked out. You see, Mr. Benson, such a fearful accident, from one of my cars, will hurt my business until the whole truth is known. But I'll stick to my word, and keep quiet."

In three quarters of an hour's time the ambulance had arrived, and also a car that Graves had sent to bring back Farnum and the three submarine boys.

"Don't run back at anything like speed, please," begged Mr. Farnum, with a wan smile. It had cut the shipbuilder to the marrow to find his friend, Pollard, so badly hurt.

"Nothing faster than ten miles an hour," promised the chauffeur.

Once in the city the auto followed the ambulance to the hospital, where Farnum went to see that every possible attention was given his friend. But Mr. Graves had already made splendid arrangements for the care of both injured men.

Then down to the Somerset went the able bodied survivors of the submarine party. Though they said nothing in the hearing of the strange chauffeur, they were no more than inside Jacob's Farnum's room when they let loose their indignation.

It was not many minutes, however, ere the chief of police arrived.

"I've been talking with Graves, gentlemen," announced the chief, "and I'm wholly satisfied that the rascal, Hodges, is the first one we want to find. When we get him we'll try to make him tell who's behind him."

"Did you get anything out of the four fellows you caught night before last?" asked Jack Benson.

"Not a word to amount to anything, so far," replied the chief. "But their case was continued a week by the court, and I'll find a way to make 'em talk! Just now, my whole thought is centered on finding Hodges."

"He isn't stopping at this hotel?" asked Jack.

"Not much! He wouldn't wait for us to come and gather him in like that," answered the chief. "No; I'm dragging the town, and I also have a man at the railway station, and another watching the water front."

"I can't understand how the fellow who called himself Hodges ever got Judson to write him a letter of introduction to me," muttered Mr. Farnum.

"Do you know Judson's writing?" asked the police chief, suspiciously.

"No-o-o," admitted Mr. Farnum. "But the letter was written on the letter-head of Judson's hotel."

"Anyone can get a hotel letter-head," retorted the police official, sagely. "You'd better let me have that letter, and I'll write Judson to wire me whether he ever signed it."

Farnum passed over the letter, though he muttered, disgustedly:

"Good heavens, have I reached my present only to be taken in with a faked letter of introduction?"

"If you have," responded the chief of police, grimly, "you won't be the only traveled, wide awake business man who has been caught by a trick like that. In this country, where letters of introduction are passed around as freely as cigars, it's very seldom that a man stops to wonder whether the letter handed him is genuine."

An hour later the chief was back, to report that a man answering Hodges' description had taken a train north bound, not buying a ticket.

"I've telegraphed to have the fellow arrested at a point along the route," continued the police official. "I don't expect to get Hodges as easily as that, though. He undoubtedly will have left the train before it gets to where I have some one waiting to receive him."

"But the young woman he called his daughter?" asked Jack

"She wasn't with him. The fellow traveled alone. Of course, the handsome daughter was only borrowed for the occasion."

From the hospital came the word that unfortunate David Pollard was resting comfortably.

"The scheme was one that was intended to put our whole party out of business," declared Jack Benson, his eyes shining savagely. "I won't go so far as to say the Rhinds crowd wanted us killed, but they hoped we'd all be too badly hurt to go on with the submarine tests. Oh, what a rascally way to succeed in business!"



CHAPTER XIV

RADWIN DOESN'T SEE HIS BEST CHANCE

Late in the afternoon Farnum went up to the hospital to see David Pollard again.

As too many visitors would not be wise the shipbuilder represented, also, his young submarine officers. He left them in the lobby of the Somerset.

"Don't go away from here," smiled Mr. Farnum, wearily. "Don't let anybody coax you away from here. Just stay right here, and I won't have to worry about you while I'm away. We can't take any chances—can't lose any more of our crowd."

"Those are orders, sir," Jack Benson answered. "You'll be obeyed."

For the better part of an hour the boys remained where Farnum had left them.

Then something happened that brought the flush of anger to all their bronzed, honest young faces.

One of the outer doors opened, and Fred Radwin, catching sight of the submarine boys as he entered, hastened over to where they sat, a look of pretended sympathy on his handsome but snake-like face.

"Boys," he called, in a low voice, as all three rose as though to ward off blows, "it was only little while ago that I heard of the fearful accident. Poor Pollard! I want to tell you how heartily sorry I am to hear—"

"Stop right where you are, sir!"

Jack Benson's voice thundered out. The young submarine captain did not realize that he was using even more than a quarter-deck tone. Everyone in the lobby turned to look on. A few, more curious than the others, hastened to where the little group stood.

"What—what do you mean?" stammered Fred Radwin, looking mightily bewildered.

"In the future, sir," and Jack's voice barely fell, "do us the honor not to speak to us."

"What on earth—" protested Radwin.

"If you don't heed my request," Jack continued, angrily, "I don't believe I shall be able to curb my desire to land both fists in your face."

Radwin drew back before the darkening, menacing glare in the eyes of the young submarine captain.

Hal, however, turned white—though from a cause that few would have guessed.

"Hold on, Benson! One moment—" protested Fred Radwin.

"Oh, get out of my sight, this instant," quivered Jack, taking another step toward his enemy.

Before all the curious throng Fred Radwin, strangely enough, felt too abashed, for the moment, to persist in his expressions of surprise.

"I'll talk with you later," he muttered, with a sickly smile, then turned away.

"If you do," Jack called after him, "I'll—"

Benson's voice died down as the young captain felt Hal Hastings's strong, impassioned grip on his arm.

Radwin, fortunately, did not turn, but kept on until he had taken himself out of sight.

Jack turned an inquiring glance on his chum's face. But Hal's warning look seemed to say:

"Silence! Wait!"

"What was the row about?" asked a stranger among those who had pressed about the boys.

"Nothing," returned Eph Somers, shortly, glaring at his questioner.

At a mute signal from Hal all three of the submarine boys seated themselves once more.

By degrees the little crowd melted away.

Then Jack Benson turned to his chum, to ask, in a low voice:

"What did you mean, Hal, old fellow? I know you had some good reason for checking me as you did."

"I was afraid you would hit Radwin," Hal murmured.

"A case of nothing struck, if I had!" uttered Captain Jack, bitterly.

"Oh, yes! You would have struck at our chances of winning out in these submarine tests," murmured Hal Hastings.

"What do you mean?" demanded Jack, looking startled.

"If you had hit Radwin, in the presence of all those witnesses, you would have been right in line to be arrested for assault."

"Pooh!" jeered Captain Jack. "A small fine, which I could easily pay."

"But the inconvenience of being locked up, at such a time!" asked Hal Hastings.

"Mr. Farnum would bail me out, quickly enough."

"I don't believe you see all of the point yet," murmured Hal, earnestly. "Suppose Radwin swore out a warrant against you for striking him. Then suppose he paid a court officer to wait and serve the warrant just as the boats were starting out on some new test cruise? Then you'd go ashore, and we'd either have to go on without our captain, or else draw out of the test. Fine business, that, when our first and only business is to make the Pollard boats the number-one winners in as many tests as possible!"

"Great Caesar!" exploded Jack, realizing, now, what a narrow escape he had had from another disaster to their common interests.

"So you be on your guard," Hal went on with his wise counsel. "No one—at least, no one in your own crowd—doubts your grit, or your willingness to clinch with Radwin and fight it out to a copper-riveted finish. I don't blame you for wanting to thrash Radwin every time you think of poor Dave Pollard up at the hospital. I want to do it myself. Radwin didn't think fast enough, or he'd have sneered at you, and provoked you into hitting him. That was why I grabbed your right arm—to stop you. It'll come to Radwin before long, what a fine chance he missed. Then he'll put himself in your way—when there are witnesses around."

"Thank you, Hal," nodded Jack Benson, his voice unusually quiet. "You've given me a good, big hint. I won't forget it. Until the tests are all over Radwin may parade before me, and mock at me, if he wants. But afterward—!"



CHAPTER XV

THE GOAL OF THE LIGHTNING CRUISE

On three different days, thereafter, there were various tests in which the submarine craft entered, each striving for points and leadership.

On one of these days the event was firing with "dummy" torpedoes. This work was carried on out in the bay. Then there were two other days of firing, with actual, loaded torpedoes, the work, one day, being with stationery naval targets. On the other day the work with loaded torpedoes was directed against moving targets—perpendicular floats towed by a tug with a very long hawser.

While some of the firing was done by the crews of the respective submarines, a good deal more was performed by members of the naval board, in order that the boats, rather than the crews, might be tested.

In each of these events the Pollard boats were the winners. At the moving targets the Day Submarine took second place away from the Rhinds boats; in the other events the Rhinds craft came in second, though rather close to the records achieved by the Pollard submarines.

Farnum was elated, of course. So were his young officers. Lieutenant Danvers, who was on board at each test, was also much pleased, though he did not express it. The cheering news was taken to David Pollard, in hospital, and greatly lightened his days of suffering and waiting.

And now, for two days, the grim-looking little submarine fleet had lain at moorings. Not one was there among their crews but wondered whether any further competitive tests were to be ordered.

There had been no more meetings, on shore, between the Rhinds party and our friends. Radwin had hoped for such a meeting, for, as Hal had predicted, the dark-faced rascal had soon reasoned out that it would be an excellent thing to stop a few blows delivered by Captain Jack Benson.

But Farnum had kept his party on the "Benson" and the "Hastings."

"Fred, I wonder whether we are going to have any more tests," demanded Mr. Rhinds, as he and his secretary lingered over their breakfast at the Somerset.

"I wish I knew," sighed Radwin.

"We've been beaten, a few points, by that Pollard crowd," muttered Rhinds, his face lowering. "But we're not altogether walloped, Fred. The government is going to buy a good many submarine boats. Now, it isn't necessary for the government to have the boats all of one type, is it?"

"Of course not," Radwin assented.

"Just so," continued the older man, "now, we've made a pretty good showing, after all. So I have already begun with some telegrams to the Senators and Congressmen of our state—Oh, you mustn't feel that you always have advance information on all I'm doing, young man," chuckled Rhinds, noting the look of surprise in his companion's face. "I've started with our state's members in Congress, and soon I shall begin to go at 'em harder. Now, despite the fact that the Pollard boats have been able to gain a few points over us, I believe I can engineer matters so that the government will order two types of submarine, instead of one. In fact, Fred, when the government gives out its big orders for submarine boats, I hope to land forty per cent., at least, of the business."

Fred Radwin glanced cautiously around him, to make sure that no waiters stood within hearing distance. Then he hissed, sharply:

"Forty per cent. of the business, you say? I still intend to land one hundred per cent. of the submarine business for our company?"

"How?" asked the older man, eagerly.

"I'll think it over a while, before I tell you my definite plans."

"Be careful, Fred," warned Rhinds, "not to make any moves that will be our undoing!"

"Have I gotten you into any trouble yet, Mr. Rhinds?"

"No," admitted the older man, though he added, half-jeeringly:

"Nor have you beaten the Pollard crowd at any point along the road, that I can remember."

"Wait!" retorted Radwin, mysteriously.

These two villains were just sipping from their last cups of coffee when, even in the dining room, there reached their ears the muffled sound of gunfire from the bay.

"What's that?" demanded Radwin. "I want to hear the rest of that!"

He hurried through the dining room to the front of the lobby.

"There it goes," he cried, as Rhinds, puffing somewhat, joined him. "First, the gunfire, then seven long whistles, followed by—wait!"

As the whistling ceased another gun boomed forth.

"That's the emergency signal, to call all hands back who belong on submarines," uttered Radwin, wheeling about. "We must get our hats and coats, and hustle down to the water front."

Radwin, had in truth, read the signal aright. It was the signal that the naval board had announced in case, at any time, there should be sudden, official news for the officers and crews of the rival submarines.

"What can it be, I wonder?" pondered John Rhinds, as they hurried through a street that led to the pier.

"Probably some test in which the board wants us to start without any preparation," replied Radwin.

"I wish I knew what it was," muttered Rhinds.

"That's just the way every man-jack aboard the submarine boats is feeling about it," jeered Radwin. "Jove, I hope the test, to-day, is one in which we stand a chance to beat the Pollard crowd!"

Jacob Farnum had just started from the "Hastings," in a shore boat, when the first gun boomed forth. The shipbuilder had been on his way to see his friend, at the hospital, when he heard the first gun. Stopping the rowers, he quickly comprehended when the whistle blasts started. He accordingly directed that he be put back alongside the "Hastings."

Jack, Hal and Eph had come tumbling up on deck at the first realization of the signal. Grant Andrews and his men were no longer on board, having gone, at daylight, to their boarding house on shore.

"What do you suppose is in the air, Jack?" called Mr. Farnum.

"I don't know, sir. But whatever it is, we're ready. We can start, on anything, at the drop of a handkerchief. Gasoline tanks full, compressed air by the cubic yard, storage batteries charged."

"It would be hard to catch you youngsters unprepared," laughed the shipbuilder, appreciatively.

They were still on deck, waiting and wondering, when they saw the president and secretary of the Rhinds company put off from shore in haste.

"They don't mean to be left," sneered Eph.

"They're pretty badly left already," muttered Captain Jack, bitterly. "They haven't beaten us, so far, by a single point."

"I suppose they're hoping they will to-day, whatever the test is to be," muttered Hal Hastings.

Fifteen minutes more passed. Then a little flock of six-oared cutters left the side of the gunboat "Oakland." In the stern-sheets of each cutter sat a naval officer in uniform.

"There's Lieutenant Danvers," cried Jack, eagerly. "He brings us our instructions, whatever they are."

In a few moments more Danvers was along side, making his way up to the platform deck. In his right hand Danvers carried an official looking sealed envelope.

In his eager curiosity Jacob Farnum extended a hand to take the envelope, but Danvers drew it back.

"Pardon me," murmured the shipbuilder, confusedly. "I should have known better. The communication is, of course, for the captain."

Danvers turned the envelope over to Captain Jack Benson, who broke the seal, drawing out the paper enclosed. This is a part of what the submarine boy read aloud:

"'The Navy Department has just reported, by wireless, that a semi-submerged derelict, evidently that of a three-master schooner, is drifting in the paths of navigation at a point 385 miles southwest by south of this present station. The Department suggests that it would afford an example of practical use for submarines, if those now on this station would accompany a gunboat, at full speed for cruising, and attempt to discover and blow up this derelict.'"

"Great!" glowed Eph. "I vote for it."

"So do those on the other boats, if the observable excitement is to be taken as an indication," laughed Mr. Farnum.

"This letter goes on to request," announced Benson, "that the commander of each submarine willing to enter this affair signal to the 'Oakland' by hoisting the signal 'Ready.' Do you hear that, Eph?"

Somers made a dash for the signal chest. In another moment the appropriate bit of bunting was fluttering on the halliard at the top of the signal mast.

"We are directed," Jack read on, "to be ready within thirty minutes. We must follow the 'Oakland' down the bay at a cruising speed of sixteen miles an hour. Once out of the bay, the 'Oakland' will signal our formation to us."

"Do you see the boat the Rhinds signal is going up on?" laughed Hal Hastings. "It is going up on the submarine 'Thor.' According to the old Norsemen tales Thor was The Thunderer—also the fellow who struck with the big hammer. It looks like a Rhinds boast that they are to do big things on this lightning cruise."

"Yes; Thor was an old Norse god," muttered Captain Jack. "And the early Norsemen were very largely pirates. Perhaps we are to take the signal on the 'Thor' as an intimation that Rhinds is out to play pirate in earnest on this cruise."

As Benson uttered these words he felt an odd little shiver run over him. Yet he gave it no more thought. Little idea had he, at that moment, how prophetic his words were likely to be!

In half an hour, as planned, the "Oakland," after firing a warning gun, steamed away from her moorings. Gradually the gunboat's speed increased, until the full sixteen miles were being made—miles, instead of knots, since gasoline boats, like these submarines, are usually rated by miles instead of by the longer "knot."

It was a rattling rate of speed to exact from these little craft, when it was considered that the gait would have to be continued, without break, for at least twenty-four hours.

Eph was at the wheel, at the start, and Jack standing back by the conning tower. Mr. Farnum had gone below, for a nap, as he intended to relieve Hal in the engine room after a few hours.

"Benson," remarked Danvers, approaching the submarine boy, "I guess your remark of a few minutes ago exactly defines this trip."

"What remark?" asked Jack.

"You spoke of it as a lightning cruise. It is going to be one, indeed, for these little submarine craft."

"Our boat can stand it, I think," smiled the submarine skipper.

"And so can the Rhinds boat, probably. But some of the others will find themselves sorely put to to keep up the speed for twenty-four hours."

"And, if they don't?" queried Jack.

Danvers shrugged his shoulders.

"Then I guess they'll have to be satisfied with being left far behind, unless they signal that they're in actual distress."

"This speed," mused Captain Jack, "must be part of the government's plans for another test. The Navy Department must have planned to see whether any of these boats could stand such a gait for twenty-four long hours."

"I couldn't tell you if I knew," remarked Lieutenant Danvers, with a quizzical look, then turned and strolled away.

"And I guess," muttered the submarine boy to himself, "that that's about as near as a fellow can go to giving a tip, once he has had the Navy muzzle padlocked to his jaws."

Some of the submarines in this long race—for such it was—were better equipped as to the number of the crew. The Rhinds had this advantage, carrying a captain and four men, in addition to Rhinds himself and his secretary. Yet Jack and Eph relieved each other regularly at the wheel, catching long naps between. Hal and Mr. Farnum did the same thing with the engine room, and the "Hastings" kept well in the van through the day, and also through the long night that followed.

Two hours after daylight the "Oakland" signaled to the submarines to run up close to this "parent vessel," the gunboat.

"Further orders, of course," muttered Jack, who was at the wheel at the time. "Well, we're not such a very long run, now, from the reported location of that derelict."

The fleet was wholly out of sight of land. The wind was fresh and the sea lively with short, choppy waves, crested by white-caps. Yet, for boats as staunch as these submarines, sea was not a difficult one for boat handling.

One after another, while still going at full speed, the submarines drew close to the "Oakland." One after another, as signaled, the boats put in within easy hailing distance of the gunboat.

"The 'Hastings' will keep to the same South West, by South course, but at a distance of two miles off this vessel's port bow," came the order. "The 'Thor' will take up similar position, two miles off the port side of the 'Hastings.'"

The three remaining torpedo boats were assigned to positions corresponding on the starboard side of the "Oakland."

In this order the boats went ahead at a speed reduced to fourteen miles. The front of the line extended over some ten miles; in reality the line of vision extended much further than that. Unless the semi-submerged derelict had moved much faster than such derelicts usually do, it was difficult to see how the wreck could get through this line of exploration.

Jack Benson pressed a signal that brought Hal Hastings up on deck.

"Rouse Eph and Mr. Farnum," ordered the young skipper. "We've got to have all hands on, now. And call Lieutenant Danvers, also. He's not allowed to help us, but he'll be anxious to see what is going on."

As soon as Eph Somers reached deck Jack Benson turned the wheel over to him. Then the young captain got his marine glasses, stationing himself, most of the time, beside the deck wheel.

"If it's in any way possible," muttered Jack, "I want to be the first to sight that derelict. I want the honor of sinking her to come to us. It will all be points in the game we are fighting for."

As Benson spoke he swung his glass around to cover the deck of the "Thor," that craft being, now, her full two miles away off the port beam.

"Rhinds has his whole crowd on deck, too," growled young Benson, using his powerful marine glass with interest. "Yes; everyone on deck, except two men for the engine room."