Crack! Crack!

With that desperate fellow the other side of the door, shooting through the key-hole, it was worse than folly to remain in line of range.

Yet Jack and Eph retorted coolly, with the dignity of officers.

"My man," requested Lieutenant Jack, turning to one of the sailors, "hand me your revolver."

Taking the weapon, Benson glanced at it a second or two, then raised the weapon, sighting for the top of the stateroom door.

Bang! The shot that Jack fired sent a bullet crashing through the door close to the upper framework.

"You see, Gray!" Jack called coolly, "we're armed, too, and in overpowering numbers. Resistance is worse than foolish."

Bang! came the hostile answer.

This shot was fired through one of the panels of the stateroom door—fired at an angle, too.

Plainly the shot was intended to hit the young naval lieutenant. It passed Benson's right side by a margin of barely two inches.

"Pass me another revolver," whispered Benson, in the stillness that followed.

All through the day and evening these seamen, though outwardly respectful, and wholly well disciplined, had cherished a great deal of amusement over their boyish officers.

Now, however, these bronzed men of the deep beheld Benson and Somers at work in a manner worthy of any product of Annapolis.

The second revolver was handed to Jack.

"I want to be in this, too," muttered Ensign Eph, and held back his hand for weapons.

"Are you going to surrender, Gray, and open that door?" demanded Lieutenant Jack.

"Never—to you," came the ugly defiance.

Bang! Again Gray fired, straight in the direction of the voice the bullet, crashing through a panel of the door, fanned Jack's left ear so that he felt the breeze.

"Open up on him, Mr. Somers," directed Benson. "Slowly. Fire high, and fire low. Try to get him somehow."

Two more shots came from the other side of the locked door.

Then pop-pop-pop! began the fusilade from outside, Jack and Eph firing with either hand as they sighted their weapons for new spots.

R-r-rip! crash! A long enough bombardment of this sort was certain to reduce the panels to splinters and leave the way clear—if they didn't riddle Gray with bullets in the meantime.

Pop-pop-pop! The air was becoming heavy with the white fog of smoke. Breathing was somewhat difficult, with so many shots being fired in the confined space.

Then both young officers stopped, passing back one revolver apiece to be reloaded.

Bang! came a defiant shot from inside the stateroom. The bullet struck the cabin floor just behind Jack, having passed between his feet.

The sailors, back where they were comparatively safe from harm, looked on in admiration at these two grit-full young American officers.

Pop-pop-pop! began the fusilade by Jack and Eph again.

"Ouch!" came a sudden yell from the stateroom.

"Hit you, did we?" called Jack, calmly. "Well, we're going to riddle you unless you stop that nonsense."

The answer was another shot from inside the stateroom. The bullet clipped off a stray lock of hair at the left side of Eph Somers's head.

Both young officers fired slowly, searchingly, until their weapons were emptied. Then they passed the hot smoking revolvers back for new loads.

From the other side of the stateroom door came no sound.

As soon as he and Eph had received the reloaded weapons, Jack motioned Eph Somers not to fire.

For a few moments they listened. Then Jack turned, selecting the two most stalwart-looking of the husky sailors back by the companionway. A nod of Jack's head brought them stealthily to his side.

"Put your shoulders to the stateroom door, and force it," commanded Lieutenant Benson.

At the same time Jack and Eph moved up with the sailors, holding their revolvers ready to fire at the first sign of renewed hostilities from within.

Bump! Two pairs of sturdy shoulders went up against the door. From within there came no sign of defiance. Bump! At the second determined assault the door flew open.

"Step back, men! We'll go in first," commanded Lieutenant Benson.

Revolvers in hand, and ready, the two young officers of the "Sudbury" pressed forward into the battered-looking room.

"Where is the rascal?" growled Eph Somers.

"Here, hiding like a cornered rat," replied Jack, aiming both revolvers at a huddled figure well in under the lower berth. "Come out, Gray! You won't be hurt unless you try tricks on us."

The answer was a groan.

"Are your hurt?" inquired Lieutenant Benson.

"Yes."

"How badly?"

"You hit me twice."

"Where?"

"Once in the left arm; once in the right thigh. O-o-o-h!"

Jack Benson felt a swift twinge—almost a guilty jerk of his conscience.

To be sure, Gray had been defying properly appointed officers of the government engaged in performing their sworn task. Gray had attempted to kill or injure the young officers.

Still, Gray was a human being. Benson, despite his fighting spirit, at need, was not fond of gazing upon misery.

"I guess you can get out, with a little aid," coaxed Lieutenant Jack.

Gray's answer was another groan.

"We'll help you out, then," Jack continued. "But don't you dare to open fire upon any of our party!"

"I would, if I could," snarled the wounded man.

"Why can't you?"

"Fired my last cartridge!" snapped the wretch, defiantly. "Else you wouldn't have got in here without losing a few men!"

Jack signed to the two men who had forced the door to lend a hand in moving Gray out from under the berth. As they got the wounded man out on the carpet he presented a sad picture in his bloodstained clothing.

"Will the Lieutenant pardon a suggestion?" spoke up one of the sailors, saluting.

"Yes."

"I have a first aid package, sir. With some help I can, bind this man's wounds until we get him over to the sick bay on the 'Sudbury.'"

"A fine idea," agreed Lieutenant Jack. "Go ahead."

First of all, the wounded prisoner was taken out into the passageway. Jack and Eph had yet important work to do here. For a few minutes they searched in vain. Then, in turning over the lower berth's mattress, Eph's hand touched something hard.

"Wait until I get my pocket-knife out," he smiled.

Rip! r-r-r-r-rip! As Ensign Eph tore open the mattress and thrust his hands inside, the grin on his face broadened.

"I reckon we've got the object of the whole expedition," he announced.

He drew out a package wrapped in heavy paper. Jack broke the string, unwrapping, and pulling out to the light, a bundle of charts, layer upon layer.

"Yes. Here we have what we're after," nodded Lieutenant Benson. "And here are two books written chock-full of notes to go with the charts. Gracious! That fellow. Millard must have stolen plans of every important fortified harbor on the Atlantic coast. And here are charts of some of the gulf ports as well."

Gray, his wounds bound, had been laid on the door of the stateroom, which had been taken from its hinges. On this stretcher, the prisoner was taken over the side into the launch.

"Who's going to pay for the damage done here, sir?" asked the skipper of the Cobtown schooner, stepping forward.

"Hm!" muttered Jack. "It seems to me you are lucky, my man, that we don't put a prize crew aboard this craft and take you back to Norfolk."

"I haven't done anything," protested the fellow, "except to stand for a lot of damage on board because you're backed by sailors and marines."

"My man," retorted Jack, grimly, "if you think you have suffered any unfair damage, then lay your case before the Navy Department. But my private advice is for you not to attract the attention of the authorities to you in case they seem likely to overlook you."

"Is my vessel at liberty to proceed?" inquired the man, sullenly.

"Yes; I have no orders to seize your craft. I'd like to, however," Lieutenant Jack Benson added, dryly.



CHAPTER XVII

THE LAST HOUR OF COMMAND

Through the night the "Sudbury" rolled lazily over the waves.

A wireless message had carried the news through space to Washington. Orders had come to return to Norfolk, there turning Gray over to the United States authorities.

Benson and his comrades were instructed to return to Washington with the charts and record books.

Down in a berth in the sick bay, lay Gray. The hospital steward had made the wounded man as comfortable as possible. The latter was painfully but not seriously wounded.

At the speed at which the gunboat was now proceeding the "Sudbury" was due at anchorage at six in the morning.

Lieutenant Jack had turned in, after leaving orders that he was to be called a few minutes before five. He wanted to be on deck to enjoy the sensations of his last hour of command on the cruise of a vessel of the United States Navy. Forward, the sailors of the watch were talking in low tones of their very youthful officers.

"There's the real stuff in those boy officers, mates," grunted one sailor who had been in the boarding party. "It don't make any difference whether they've been through Annapolis or not. Look at the way the lieutenant and Mr. Somers went up against the shooting. Kept us back, and took the medicine themselves, like real officers."

"You'd expect it of Somers," rejoined another sailor. "There's a bit of the bull-neck about him, and such men always fight. But the lieutenant makes a real officer that I'd be glad to foller anywhere."

"Mr. Hastings didn't get a chance to show what was in him," suggested another of Uncle Sam's old salts.

"Oh, you leave Mr. Hastings alone for fighting, if he saw any need to," retorted the sailor who had been the first to speak. "He's one of your very quiet chaps. Your quiet ones always sail into a fight while a brawler is getting his mouth wound up to do some talking."

"Hanged, if I don't wish them lads could remain on board!" muttered another old salt.

"With the young lieutenant to command the ship?" asked another.

"Him as well as anyone. He knows what he's doing, for which reason I don't care for the number of the year he was born in. Why, mates, the lieutenant is the head of them submarine boys we've read so much about in the newspapers when layin' in port. And the other two are his messmates. Now, I'll stand for it that the submarine boys are good for any kind of a job on salt water. I'd foller their lead on a battleship!"

It would have been fine for the three submarine boys had they been able to know what great opinions the crew held of them.

But Hal was again on the bridge in the last watch, and Eph had gone below for an hour's sleep ere he, like Jack Benson, was to be called.

Then, at last, two sleepy-eyed boys came from their cabins, going up to the bridge for what they felt was their last hour of real sea-glory.

Ensign Fullerton appeared half an hour before anchorage was made.

"You have the satisfaction, sir, of knowing that your task was put through in record time," said Fullerton, by way of congratulation.

"For which I'm truly glad," smiled Benson. "Yet I could wish our experience with the Navy had not ended so soon."

"Why, it hasn't ended yet, sir," smiled the executive officer.

"It will, in a few minutes more, however," sighed Jack. "My last official act will be to order the gig into the water to take us on shore. We're under orders to take the next train for Washington, you know."

"Very true," smiled Ensign Fullerton. "But, sir, you are commanding officer of the 'Sudbury,' no matter where you may be, until you receive an order to relinquish command. Also, sir, your present appointments as officers in the service run until the orders appointing you are revoked."

"But that will all happen before the day is much older," replied Jack, with a forced smile.

It was going to come harder than he had thought, after this brief taste of real naval life, to give it all up!

No sooner had the "Sudbury" let go her anchors than Jack called for the gig. He and his comrades hurried below, doffing their uniforms, which went back into the dress suit cases. Then, in citizen dress, with their precious swords again wrapped in chamois skin, the three submarines went over the side.

There was the same ceremony, however, which had attended their coming aboard. The marine guard turned out, presenting arms as Lieutenant Jack Benson passed to the side gangway. Ensign Fullerton and Mr. Drake stood by to salute Jack, and to receive his formal acknowledgment of their courtesy.

Their feet touched the bottom of the gig. They seated themselves, and the short row to the landing stage commenced.

On the landing stage stood an orderly, who promptly saluted.

"The Commandant's compliments to Lieutenant Benson, and will the Lieutenant and his comrades report at the Commandant's office."

Early as the hour was, the commandant was at his desk, in uniform, and received the young officers most graciously.

"Mr. Benson, and gentlemen," declared the commandant of the navy yard, "you have done your work well, and as quickly as it could have been done. I congratulate you. The Secretary of the Navy, I believe, will thank you personally, It was splendidly done. And now, if you will come around to the officers' club with me, you will find that your breakfasts have been ordered. It will be an hour and a half, yet, before it will be necessary for me to furnish you with the carriage that will convey you to the railway station."

In the presence of this much older officer the lads did not attempt to make too merry at breakfast. Seated in the dining room of the officers' mess, they listened respectfully to whatever the commandant saw fit to discuss.

The meal was about over when a marine orderly entered, crossed the dining room, stopped at a respectful distance, and saluted.

"Telegram, sir."

The commandant received the envelope, drawing out the sheet it contained.

"Lieutenant Benson, this will interest you and your comrades," pursued the commandant.

"The order revoking my command of the gunboat," thought Jack. Oddly enough, though he expected it, knew it must happen, the arrival of the moment brought a strange sinking at heart.

"I wonder how on earth it could have happened?" pursued the commandant, his eyes again turned toward the paper. "Millard has escaped from Fort Craven, and, so far, has eluded recapture!"



CHAPTER XVIII

EPH BETS AN ANCHOR AGAINST A FISH-HOOK

"The government possesses the fellow's charts and notes, anyway," observed Jack Benson, rather proudly.

"Yes, thanks to you, gentlemen," nodded the commandant. "Still, I fancy the authorities, will be fearfully annoyed over this escape."

"There are no particulars, sir, you say?" queried Jack.

"No; the mere announcement of the fellow's escape, and a request to military and naval authorities to be on the lookout for the fugitive The despatch also states that description will follow by wire."

"We can give you a pretty fair word-portrait of Millard right now, sir," offered Lieutenant Benson.

"And I wish you would."

Jack proceeded to do so. He had about finished, when the carriage stopped punctually before the door of the officers' club. The commandant took cordial leave of his young guests, after which they were driven to the railway station. Just a little later they found themselves leaning back in parlor car seats, bound for Washington.

Most of the way back the youngsters dozed in their chairs. Now, that the excitement was over, all felt need of rest.

Not even at the railway station in Washington could they escape the watchfulness of the Navy Department. The same messenger who, the day before, had handed them their copies of the Regulations, now met Benson with a note.

"The Secretary will not be at his office until one o'clock this afternoon," announced Lieutenant Jack, looking up from the order. "We are directed to report at that hour."

"What shall we do until then?" demanded Eph, blankly, when the messenger had departed.

"Why, since we're still in the service," laughed Jack, "and as I've heard that the Arlington is much patronized by Navy officers, suppose we treat ourselves to a carriage, go to the Arlington and register. That will be the last grand feeling we'll get out of this."

His comrades rather merrily agreed. So, a few minutes later, the trio marched through the lobby of the Arlington to the desk. Jack picked up a pen, and registered:

"John Benson, U.S.N."

Hal and Eph followed suit. Then they were led to their connecting rooms.

"We'll have luncheon at half-past eleven," smiled Lieutenant Jack, as he dropped into an easy chair. "In the service one never knows when his next meal is coming."

"Good!" chuckled Hal, though there was a sad ring to his tone. "Keep up as long as you can, old fellow, the fiction that we're still in the naval service."

"Well, aren't we?" demanded Jack, stoutly.

"Surely," assented Hal, meekly.

"Say," demanded Eph, taking out notebook and pencil, "what is an ensign's pay, anyway?"

"Seventeen hundred dollars a year," replied Benson.

"I don't suppose the Navy Department will try to spring less than a day's pay on us," hinted Eph. "If that's right, then the government now owes me three hundred and sixty-five into seventeen hundred. Let me see—"

"Oh, cut it!" laughed Hal.

"What? My pay?" demanded Eph, "Not much, sir! I want the only money I ever really earned."

"One of us ought to drop Mr. Farnum a line," hinted Jack, presently.

"Oh, well, let Hal do it," offered Eph. "He carries the only fountain pen in the crowd."

Without a word Hastings crossed to a table on which were envelopes and paper, and began to write. Perhaps he welcomed something to occupy his mind; for, truth to tell, each of these submarine boys had a woefully "blue" feeling. Though all were naval officers, still, at this moment, all realized that they would cease to be such as soon as they had received the thanks of the Secretary of the Navy. However, "blue" as all three felt, none of them hung back when half-past eleven arrived. They descended to the dining room, where they refreshed themselves heartily.

The meal over, there was just about enough time left for them to walk comfortably to the Navy Department.

They had walked a couple of blocks of the way when Hal suddenly felt the stamped letter in his pocket. He drew it out, and glanced hurriedly down the avenue.

"I don't see a letter-box ahead, fellows, but I saw one, half-way down the block, at the last corner we passed. You two keep right on. I'll join you."

Presently Jack and Eph halted in their walk to look back.

"Where is Hal?" demanded Somers.

"He can't have lost us," muttered Jack.

"Oh, I guess he has simply taken a short cut to meet us ahead on the way."

Yet, though they continued to look for their comrade until they had neared the State, War and Navy Building, Hal Hastings had not again appeared in sight.

"Say, but this is fearfully careless of good old Hal," muttered Jack Benson, uneasily, as he glanced at his watch. "We've no time to go back to look for him, either, for we've barely time to reach the Secretary's office."

"We'll have to go in without Hal, then," grumbled Eph. "It makes me feel like a fool, too!"

Had the two lads but known it, there was still plenty of time. For the Secretary of the Navy may make an appointment with an understrapper, and then find that he must first see some more important personage.

There were "big" callers ahead of the boys that day, so that it was nearly two o'clock when Lieutenant Jack and Ensign Eph were admitted to the presence that they were to leave shorn of their brief rank and command.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Benson. Good afternoon, Mr. Somers," was Secretary Sanders's swift greeting. "You were most successful, and I must congratulate you heartily. But—where is Mr. Hastings?"

"We don't know, Mr. Secretary," Jack admitted. "He left us for a short time, as we thought, and, since then—"

Mr. Sanders wheeled sharply as the door opened and a clerk came in.

"Pardon me, sir," apologized the clerk. "But a note has just come for Lieutenant Benson, sir, and the messenger was insistent that it was a most important matter—"

"You may take your note and read it, Lieutenant," suggested the Secretary of the Navy.

Young Benson gave a start when he recognized, in the address, the handwriting of Hal Hastings.

In another instant Jack gave a much more violent start. For these were the words that met his astounded gaze.

"Dear Jack: I am in a Washington police station, feeling like a number-one idiot. Soon after leaving you I ran into Millard, face to face, There was a policeman within two hundred feet at the moment. I let out a full siren yell and dashed at Millard. He held on to me until the policeman reached the spot. I let him hold me, thinking that the easiest way. But Millard produced a paper—a request from the military authorities at Fort. Craven, to arrest and hold anyone pointed out by the bearer. I talked—some—to that policeman, but it did no good. He took me to the station house, and here I am! Millard vanished, after saying that he'd wire the news of my arrest to Fort Craven. You'll have to explain me out of this. Yours disgustedly, Hal."

"May I read this to you, Mr. Secretary?" begged Jack Benson.

"Do so, Lieutenant."

"I will be back in a moment," muttered the Secretary of the Navy, rising, and hastily quitting the room.

The instant that high official was gone Eph caught at his sides with his hands.

"Oh, wow! Woof! Umpah!" chuckled young Somers, his face distorted with glee. "Some one catch me! I'm choking! Great Scott, what wouldn't I have given to see that? Hal, the quiet, the dignified? Oh, dear! Oh, dear. Hal pounces on the fellow, to arrest him, and Hal is the one who gets pinched Woo-oo! I can see Hal's face right now I'll wager an anchor to a fish-hook that the astonished look is stamped on Hal's face so hard that it won't come off for a week. Oh—woof!"

Eph was laughing so hard that the tears streamed down his face.

"Quit that!" commanded Jack, stepping over to his comrade, his own face stern. "It's no laughing matter."

"Why, they won't hang Hal!" sputtered Eph, as soon as he could talk. "Hal will be at liberty almost at once. But fancy the shock! Imagine the dear old fellow's astonishment, and the jolt to his feelings."

Again Eph Somers went off into a paroxysm of laughter. It seemed uncontrollable, for Eph had a strong sense of the ludicrous, and Hal's face, as Somers pictured it, must have been a tremendously funny sight at the instant when Millard so neatly turned the tables.

"Come, quit your nonsense!" grumbled Jack, disgustedly.

"I can't," roared Eph, going off into still another burst of laughter.

Just at that instant Somers gave himself the lie. The door opened, admitting the Secretary of the Navy. In a fraction of a second Ensign Eph had straightened up, while his face was solemn enough for an Indian chief's countenance.

"I have just been straightening out that little matter," explained Mr. Sanders. "I have talked with the police, and have described Hastings. The police are in deep chagrin over their blunder. Mr. Hastings is now at liberty and on his way here."

At a motion from Mr. Sanders the two young officers seated themselves. The Secretary turned to his desk to sign some papers.

From Eph, suddenly, came a suppressed, explosive sound. Jack seated beside him on a sofa gave Somers an indignant elbow jab. The Secretary glanced up, then resumed his writing.

A minute later there came from Eph the sound of another smothered explosion. The picture of Hal Hastings's indignant astonishment had once more been conjured up before young Somers's face. Poor Eph was red in the face with all the effort of keeping back his laughter.

"I fear you must have caught some cold, standing watch on the gunboat's bridge," said the Secretary, sympathetically.

That sobered Somers in an instant. The notion that he—he a sea-dog accustomed to stand watch in all weathers, could catch cold through exposure of the kind just mentioned made Eph feel a sense of ghastly humiliation.

Five minutes later Ensign Hal Hastings was shown into the office. The Secretary of the Navy greeted him kindly, though with a twinkle in his eyes.

"The paper that caused my trouble was one that was taken from Mr. Benson when he couldn't help himself," Hal explained. "For some reason, the military authorities never discovered that Millard had that paper about him. It was enough to save him from arrest an hour ago."

"And Millard is still at large," nodded Mr. Sanders. "It's a matter for the military authorities and the Secret Service, I imagine. I don't see how the Navy can be drawn into it. However, I am going to ask you young gentlemen to retain your special appointments a little longer. I may yet have considerable need of you in this affair. You are stopping at the Arlington? Perhaps, for this afternoon, you would enjoy going over to the United Service Club, where you are likely to meet a good many Army and Navy officers. I will send some one along with you who will see to it that you have ten-day cards at the club."

At any other time this all would have meant to Jack Benson that he was still an officer in the Navy. Just now, however, it meant that Millard was at large, and Benson had a strong notion that it would yet fall to the lot of the submarine boys to put that wretch where he belonged.



CHAPTER XIX

JACK'S CALLER AT THE UNITED SERVICE CLUB

"Ho-ho! Haw-haw! Woof!"

Eph found himself started again, the very instant the boys found themselves in the lower corridor of the building.

"Let him alone," uttered Jack, scornfully. "The poor fellow had better work it all out of his system."

"But, Hal, your face—when the policeman took you, on Millard's complaint!" sputtered Somers, next going off into another burst of laughter.

"It didn't seem funny, at the time," returned Hal Hastings, quietly.

"Ho-ho! Haw! Of course, not. Say, Hal, can you do me a tremendous favor? Can you look, just for a moment, the way you did when that blue-coat pinched you?"

Hal began to laugh, despite the fact that his loss of Millard still rankled under his quiet outside.

"Now, hush up," warned Benson, suddenly. "Here comes Lieutenant Ulwin, who has undertaken to present us at the United Service Club. Idiots are barred from the club, you know, Eph."

By a great exercise of will power Eph managed to straighten his face by the time that the lieutenant overtook them. They entered a cab. By this time the young naval officers were beginning to understand that it is the usual custom to go about Washington in a carriage.

"Have you ever been at a Service Club before?" inquired their guide.

"We breakfasted at the club at Norfolk this morning?" Jack answered.

"Your acquaintance with our Service clubs is not very large, then?"

"We have also been at the club at Fort Craven."

"Oh!" smiled Lieutenant Ulwin. "I guess you gentlemen have been about a little more in the two branches of the service, than I had suspected. You have seen the officers of both the Army and the Navy at play?"

"Mostly at table, I should say," laughed Benson.

"The club is the only place where we can go and get away from shop-talk," continued Ulwin. "As a rule the Army and Navy men at our club do not talk much shop. It may be different to-day, however."

"Why to-day?" asked Jack.

"Because—well, you see, I am introducing three rather famous strangers to-day."

"Meaning—" began Hal, quietly.

"You young gentlemen, of course. The whole nation has heard much about the submarine boys. Yet it is in the Army and the Navy, after all, that the deepest, most abiding interest in you exists."

"This red spot on my cheek isn't a blush," explained Ensign Eph, suddenly. "It's where a mosquito bit me."

"I am not joking," replied Ulwin, with a friendly smile. "All the officers of the Navy know about you by this time."

"They'll be greatly disappointed, when they see us, then, won't they?" laughed Hal Hastings.

"Now, see here," protested Eph, earnestly, "I can stand a good deal. But, if they see us walking around the club, and ask who left the lid off the can of shrimps—I'll fight!"

Ulwin laughed heartily.

"I shall have to pass the word to our worst jokers," he smiled, "that it won't be safe for the fellow who starts in to tease you young men."

"Why, if anyone does start, we've got to keep our tongues behind our teeth," returned Hal. "We're only boys—kids—and we can't say anything smart to men who have been a good many years in the service."

"You can answer back, if anyone starts to have any fun with you," replied Lieutenant Ulwin. "Remember, a club is where all men stand on an equal footing. If an admiral gets after you, you will do well to swallow any witticism he may try on you. But with any officer below an admiral you don't have to be so careful."

Eph Somers immediately began to look thoughtful. Now, Eph did know how to say caustic things when occasion seemed to demand.

"Here we are," announced Lieutenant Ulwin, suddenly, as the cab stopped before the club building.

Hal went in at Ulwin's side. Jack gripped Eph by the elbow, pulling the auburn-haired one back a few paces.

"Now, see here, Eph, remember that we don't want any funny answers inside."

"But Ulwin says—"

"You listen to what I'm saying, Eph. I've known you longer than Mr. Ulwin has. Just remember that we're boys—b-o-y-s—boys. Not one of us is quite eighteen yet. If we've gained a little fame for five minutes, we mustn't begin to imagine that we're eight feet high and on a par with men forty years old. So be careful, Eph. If anyone starts to have any fun with you, come back at him a different way."

"How?" whispered Eph.

"Look stupid."

"What?"

"Look stupid."

"I don't see much in that."

"Why, it's the funniest answer possible; and, besides, it isn't fresh or forward."

"How do you make that out?" Eph inquired.

"Why, Eph, boy, if you're half as famous as you may think you are, then folks will know you can't be stupid. So, if you pretend to be, you'll have everyone guessing what you mean by looking that way. On the other hand, if you look stupid, and no one is surprised, then you'll discover that that's just the way the crowd had you sized up in advance."

"I see," nodded Eph, but it was plain that Jack's almost direct command was not wholly pleasing to Somers.

The two comrades now caught up with Ulwin and Hal at the elevator.

"We'll go up to the reading room, first," proposed Lieutenant Ulwin. "That's where the afternoon crowd is usually found."

Anyone who had been looking for "color" or pomp would have been disappointed. The only uniforms in sight were those worn by two bell boys. The officers of the Army and Navy present were all in citizen dress. They looked like a lot of cheerful, prosperous business men.

"Hullo, Ulwin, what are you doing with my friends from Dunhaven?" eagerly called one young man, rising hastily and coming forward. "Benson, I'm glad to see you. And you, Hastings. And you, Somers."

"Didn't know you knew the young gentlemen, McCrea," broke in Ulwin.

"Don't know them? When they made me the laughing-stock of every mess-room crowd in the Navy for months!" retorted McCrea.

Jack, Hal and Eph were shaking hands with the speaker with a good deal of pleasure.

It was Lieutenant McCrea, one-time watch officer on the battleship "Luzon." At one time McCrea had doubted that submarine boats were, in all respects, as wonderful craft as was claimed. The submarine boys had paid him back in most laughable fashion. Lieutenant McCrea, at one time, had felt himself much aggrieved over the wholesome teasing of his brother officers in consequence; but he had long since learned to accept the whole incident as a good and deserved joke.

Now, McCrea stood wringing the hands of the boys as though he had found long-lost friends.

"What are you doing these days?" McCrea wanted to know. "Anything besides testing new boats at Dunhaven?"

"You must greet them as comrades, McCrea," continued Lieutenant Ulwin.

"What? Cadets at Annapolis?"

In this case McCrea wondered at their being there, for cadets would be considered forward who visited an officers' club.

"Benson is a lieutenant, his friends ensigns," replied Ulwin.

"Come, come!" laughed McCrea. "I'm easy—these boys know that. But don't tell me—"

"Fact, though," replied Ulwin. "They hold special appointments, for some special duty or other. I'm here, at the direction of the Navy Department, to introduce these young brother officers of ours, and to procure ten-day cards for them."

By this time the news had spread. A score of officers, young or middle-aged, were crowding about. Ulwin had his hands full introducing the submarine boys. Yet they stood the ordeal well. The habit of command, based on discipline, had given these boys plenty of poise and self-possession. Nor were any attempts made, at that time, to have any good-humored fun with them. Half a dozen officers representing foreign navies were present. These, too, came in for introductions. The foreigners were, mainly, military or naval officers attached to foreign embassies at Washington.

"By Jove, Benson, I've had it in mind, for some time, that I wanted to meet you and grasp your hand," murmured Lieutenant Abercrombie, of the British Navy, as he drew Lieutenant Jack to one side. "By Jove, old fellow, I want to meet you soon and have a good old talk all by ourselves."

"That will be most agreeable to me," nodded Jack, pleasantly.

"And your comrades, too," added Abercrombie. "You know, you're already known on the other side. Fact, I assure you. Only the other day I picked up a London magazine and read quite an account of the doings of you three. I was especially interested in an account of how you three discovered a way of leaving a submarine at the bottom and swimming to the surface; then diving and re-entering the craft while she's still on the bottom. But your method is a secret, I suppose?"

"Yes," smiled Jack. "At least, the American Navy alone shares the secret with us."

"Oh, I'm not asking it, you know, old fellow," Lieutenant Abercrombie assured him.

"Is Mr. Benson here?" called a bell-boy, from the doorway.

"Very much so," replied Lieutenant Ulwin, dryly.

"May I give you a message, sir?" asked the bell-boy, coming closer.

After excusing himself, Benson stepped aside with the boy. Yet the latter spoke loudly enough for several to overhear.

"There's a lady, downstairs at the door, would like to see you, sir. She says it is very, very important, sir."

"Did she give any name?" inquired astonished Jack.

"No, sir; she begged you would overlook that, sir, and just step down to the door for a few moments."

"All right; I'll go," nodded Benson. "But it looks queer."

Excusing himself to his host, Ulwin, and to some of the officers with whom he had been chatting, the leader of the submarine boys went quickly to the coat-room for his hat, then descended in the elevator.

"Vairee strange place, zis, for a lady to follow a zhentleman—to hees club," drawled a French captain.

One or two of the others laughed, imagining that this was some flirtation in which the submarine boy had been engaged. But Eph flared up a bit, looking very red, as he muttered:

"It's only fair to tell you, gentlemen, that we submarine boys don't appreciate jokes at the expense of the finest fellow who ever lived—Mr. Jack Benson!"

"Good boy" murmured Teal.

Yet, when an hour had slipped by, and Benson had not returned, even his loyal comrades began to wonder a good deal. From that frame of mind they passed on, at the end of another hour, to worry.



CHAPTER XX

THE GIRL IN THE CAB

As Jack reached the door of the United Service Club he found no one at the doorway.

"That's strange," he muttered.

But in another moment he looked down the street. A hundred feet away stood a closed cab. From it a woman leaned, beckoning slightly.

Had she been veiled, Jack would have been instantly suspicious.

But her face showed, and it was a young, fresh, pretty and wholesome looking face.

"I don't know her, but she is very evidently a lady," thought Jack Benson, quickly.

Accordingly, he stepped along the sidewalk, lifting his hat courteously as he neared the vehicle.

"You are Mr. Benson?" inquired the young woman.

"Yes, madam."

"I trust you will pardon my calling here, and sending you a message. But it was very urgent that I see you at once—how urgent you cannot yet understand."

"I am here, madam," Jack replied; not knowing what else to say.

"I am going to make another strange request of you."

"It is granted in advance, if possible."

"Will you step inside with me, and drive a little way?" inquired the young woman.

Jack glanced quickly at her. Her face was flushed; evidently she was embarrassed.

"Won't you tell me a little more, madam, about your reason for wishing to see me?" he suggested.

"Yes; but not here—please!" she begged. "I do not want to be seen about here. I shall not detain you long, Mr. Benson. All I ask is that you sit here beside me, and that we drive a little way, while I say a few words to you."

Jack hesitated. He did not like the look of the adventure. Yet, on the other hand, it was hard to see harm or danger in it. The young woman was evidently, as he had at first guessed, a lady.

"Then you do not feel able to tell me, here, what you wish to speak with me about?" he inquired.

"I shall begin as soon as we start on our drive," she promised. "Oh, please do not refuse me. You cannot imagine how much is at stake—for me!"

Though Jack Benson felt the peculiarity of the request from a stranger, he was unable to see how harm could result from his being kind.

"Very good, then," he agreed. "I will do my best by listening to you."

After he had entered the cab, and had taken the seat, beside her, the young woman turned to look at him keenly.

Jack, for his part, saw that she was rather better dressed than the average. He imagined her to be the daughter of a family in comfortable circumstances.

"You do not know who I am, of course?" she began.

"No, madam."

"But you do know one in whom I am much interested," she continued.

For some reason that he could not explain to himself, Jack Benson began to feel very uncomfortable under the witching battery of her handsome eyes.

"Who is he?" inquired the submarine boy.

"You know him as—"

She paused, as though stricken with sudden reluctance.

"Well?"

"The name by which you know him is Millard."

Had Jack Benson been lashed at that instant with a whip he could not have been more astounded.

"Who?" he cried. "What? That in fam—"

He checked himself abruptly.

"It was kind of you to stop as you did," the young woman declared, gratefully. "The man whom you know as Millard is my promised husband."

"I'm sor—I mean, I'm astonished," sputtered Jack Benson.

Then he turned to take another keen look into her face.

"What do you want to say to me about Millard?" he demanded.

"I ask you—I beg you—to aid him to escape from Washington—from the country. Yet, to do that, all he needs is to get safely out of the District of Columbia. You know that he is here in Washington, or I would not have told you as much."

"Does Millard find it so very difficult to get out of Washington?" queried Jack, grimly.

"If he did not, Mr. Benson, believe me I would never come to the enemy to beseech mercy. Probably I am not telling you anything you do not already know," she went on, rather bitterly. "But every avenue of escape from Washington is blocked by Secret Service men. It is not so difficult to hide in the city, but to get out of it is impossible—to-day."

"Madam," Jack answered, softly, "it would be my desire to give you every bit of aid and comfort possible. However, what you ask is simply impossible. For one thing, it would be in direct defiance of my—"

"Oath" he was about to add, but checked him self. On account of their knowing that he was to be sought at the United Service Club it was possible—even likely—that the enemy knew of his actual connection with the Navy. Yet, Benson did not propose to supply the other side with any gratis information. So he added:

"Contrary to my duty as an American. I am loyal to the Flag, madam," the boy continued. "Do you know the nature of Millard's offense?"

"No-o-o-o; that is, not exactly."

"Do you wish me to tell you?"

"Why—he—he—told me it was some dispute over international affairs," stammered the young woman.

"Do you feel yourself a loyal American?" asked Jack, looking at her curiously.

"Yes!" she answered, without an instant's hesitation, looking straight into his eyes, almost defiantly.

"And you love this man, Millard?"

"Yes!" Yet her declaration was not so emphatic as it would have been a few moments before.

Jack Benson sighed.

"Would you love a man who had betrayed his country's flag?" he asked, presently, in a very low voice.

"Has Don—has the man you know as Millard offered to do that?"

It was not suspicion, but incredulity that rang in her voice.

Jack Benson knew, now, that he was dealing with a woman who knew herself to be a patriot—a lover of her country.

"I don't know that I have any right to say anything," Jack answered, evasively. "Mr. Millard is a civil engineer, isn't he?"

"Yes, and a mechanical engineer, too," the girl admitted, without attempt at concealment "As you also doubtless know, he served, once, with a revolutionary army in Guatemala. It is in some sort of scrape like this that he finds him self now. Some trouble that he has gotten himself into with this government in order to befriend the revolutionists of some Central American republic."

"Did Millard tell you so?" demanded Jack Benson, his eyes now very wide open.

"He let me believe as much," the girl replied, one hand toying with a fold of her dress, while she glanced down. "And that is the truth, is it not?"

"No!" broke, half-angrily, from young Benson. The passion would have rung in his denial, but he remembered that he was talking to this girl about her betrothed husband.

"You spoke of the Flag a moment ago," cried the girl, suddenly, and gazing searchingly into the boy's eyes. "Do you mean to tell me that Don—that Mr. Millard would be engaged in any work hostile to his own country?"

"Is the one we call Millard an American citizen?" asked Benson.

"Yes."

"Then—"

Jack came to an abrupt stop after that one word. He would not tell the dreadful news to this spirited young woman. It was not necessary.

But she became insistent

"Mr. Benson," she cried, "this has gone too far not to have a full explanation. Has—has Mr. Millard done aught to betray the United States? For that matter, how could he?"

"Madam," Benson replied, gravely, "no Central American republic would want charts of our fortified harbors, or notes concerning the fortifications, the harbor mines, and so on, for the very simple reason that no Central American republic would ever be equal to the task of attempting to invade the United States."

"Did Mr. Millard steal such plans—make such notes?"

She hissed the question sharply, her face now deathly white.

"That is the charge against him," Jack nodded.

"Did he do it?"

"I caught him at it, opposite Fort Craven," young Benson answered.

A low, smothered cry escaped the girl. Her head rested against the side of the carriage as though her brain were reeling. But at length she spoke.

"You—you would not deceive me," she faltered. "Yet tell me more."

"I can't;" answered Jack, with a shake of his head. "Further than that, I cannot go."

"Oh, I see," she nodded, "and I do not blame you. You feel that, whatever you told me, I would tell him. But I wouldn't!"

Though the girl's face was still fearfully pallid, her eyes, as she turned to gaze into the submarine boy's face, flashed with a new fire.

Then, after a brief pause:

"Whatever he is, or has done, I am an American," she added, quietly.

"This has been a miserable fifteen minutes for me." responded Jack Benson. "I have been torn between the impulse to mind my own business, and the fear that you may be throwing yourself away on a man whom you would promptly learn to despise."

"I shall never give Donald Graves another thought as a lover," the girl rejoined, promptly. "Nor shall I shelter him. I am going to him now!"

"Then you have an appointment with him? You know where to find him?"

"Yes," replied the girl, looking at the submarine boy rather queerly. "Do you care to go with me to meet Donald Graves—the one you knew as Millard? But I am stupid, or worse. That would be to run you into needless danger—for such a man as I now know Donald Graves to be would be desperate."

"I am not afraid of him," retorted Jack quietly. "If you fear only for me, I beg you to take me to him!"



CHAPTER XXI

DAISY HUSTON DECIDES FOR THE FLAG

"It is a somewhat lonely place, on the outskirts of the city," warned the girl. "Mr. Graves had thought that, if no other chance offered, he might possibly get away by leaving that house and taking to the country roads. For he knows that, if he takes a train at any point, he won't ride five miles before he'll find himself in the clutches of a Secret Service man. Oh, he knows how well the trains and the steamboats will be watched. He dreads, even, that the country roads will be watched."

"I don't know anything about the Secret Service lines that are out," Jack confessed, honestly. "Yet I imagine that every possible precaution has been taken to capture Millard—or Graves."

"You do not know my name," cried the girl, as though struck by a sudden thought. "Mr. Benson, you have been wrapped in so much mystery, so much deceit, so much lying and treachery that I won't even have you guess whether I am telling you the truth. Here is my card-case. Take out a card for yourself."

The request was so much like a command that Benson obeyed. On the card, in Old English script, he read:

"Miss Daisy Huston."

"I thank you, Miss Huston," he acknowledged, gravely, handing back her card-case.

"Will you signal the driver to stop?" she requested. They were now driving through the western part of Washington.

When the driver found himself signaled he reined up, then came to the cab door.

"You know where to go?" she said.

"Yes," nodded the man.

"Drive there, then."

The driver whipped up his horses to a better speed, the vehicle bowling along now.

"I very much fear that I am running you into danger," declared Daisy Huston, soberly. "Mr. Benson, if you decide to leave the cab, or to have me take you back to the center of the city, I shall not imagine you to be lacking in courage."

"I cannot be in any greater danger than you are, Miss Huston," Benson ventured, with a smile.

"Oh, it is much different in my case," argued the girl. "Donald Graves would not attack a woman, especially the woman he had professed to love."

"Miss Huston, do you feel like discussing this matter any further?" hazarded the young acting naval lieutenant.

"Yes; as much as you wish."

"I confess to being a bit curious."

"About what?"

"Did Millard—Graves, I mean, have any great reason to need money? More, I mean, than he could earn by honest work?"

"Yes," admitted Miss Daisy. "My mother is dead. Under her will I inherit a considerable little fortune when I am twenty-five. But it is solely on condition that I have my father's permission to marry the man of my choice. I could remain single until twenty-five, but I am only nineteen, and Mr. Graves complained that it would be an eternity to wait."

"Then your father did not approve Millard? I am going to call him that because the other name is unfamiliar."

"My father feared that Donald was a fortune hunter. He said he would be satisfied if Donald could show that he were rich in his own name."

"So, then, Graves, or Millard, hit upon the plan of stealing our harbor fortification secrets and selling them to another government," said Jack, meditatingly. "Yet I am puzzled to understand how he found the chance. There are no foreigners openly engaged in buying our national secrets."

"I think I can explain all that, though it will be but guess-work," replied Daisy Huston, thoughtfully. "My father was for some years minister to Sweden. He is still well acquainted among foreign diplomats here in Washington. Some of them are often at our house. Donald must have met one there who tempted him, or pointed the way to a fortune. Yes; I am certain that must be the answer."

"Did—but perhaps you don't like my asking such questions?"

"No; I do not mind—now," replied Daisy Huston. "I began to feel as though I had been an innocent party to Donald Graves's wrongdoing. When I went to try to see you, this afternoon, I supposed only that Donald had gotten into trouble through some filibustering expedition to Central America. I did not look upon that as so serious, you see. But selling the national secrets is quite another matter," she added, bitterly. "I shall never care for the man again. I have wrenched him from my heart in these last few minutes. So you may ask me any questions that will help to clear up the matter."

"Thank you, Miss Huston. Then did Graves, or Millard, as I call him, express any hope of becoming suddenly well to do?"

"Yes; and now I can understand how he has lied to me. He let me believe that he hoped to profit through mining concessions to Americans that would follow the overthrow of one of the petty despots in Central America."

"Yet Millard has been away from Washington much, has he not?"

"Most of the time during the last four months. He generally managed to get over here for one day out of the seven; sometimes two days at a time."

"I believe the whole matter is becoming rather clear in my mind. I do not mind telling you, Miss Huston, how I first came to know the fellow. He was over at our shipyard in Dunhaven, trying to get employment on the construction of submarine boats. But something in his manner made us suspect him, and he didn't get near the secrets of any of our boats."

There was one other thing, however, that Benson felt he would like to have cleared up. So he inquired:

"How did you know that I was at the United Service Club? Did Millard know? Did he tell you to go there?"

"He guessed where you might be. He asked me to drive to the club first; if you were not there, then I was to drive to the Arlington. Failing to find you at either place, I was to go back to the hotel in the evening. In the event of my finding you at the hotel I was to see you in the ladies' parlor. But, oh! What can you think of me, Mr. Benson, to have come to you on such an errand—on a mission to save a betrayer of his Flag?"

"You came innocently, Miss Huston; that is all that I can understand. And your whole attitude, since you discovered the truth, has been that of a loyal American girl who would crush her heart, even, for her country's honor."

"It isn't going to be as hard as you think, perhaps," she smiled, bitterly, "to cast the man out of my heart. The man that I now know Donald Graves to be never was in my heart. There is no room, there, for a traitor."

She glanced out of the cab at the scene through which they were passing. Jack Benson looked at the same time.

"I am terribly uneasy," she confessed. "Perhaps, even now, Mr. Benson, you had much better leave this carriage and let me go forward alone. I am a woman, and therefore safe. But I fear—yes, actually fear for your life when he finds out!"

"Don't be at all uneasy about me, Miss Huston," begged Jack, with cool confidence. "I have had rather a sturdy training in the art of taking care of myself."

Though he did not allow the girl to see the motion, Jack felt stealthily at his right hip pocket. Yes; the loaded revolver was there. Jack did not believe much in the practice of carrying concealed weapons. He had great contempt both for the nerve and the judgment of fool boys who carried revolvers, loaded or otherwise. But just now the situation was different. Jack Benson was an acting lieutenant in the United States Navy. Just before leaving the Navy Department he and his comrades had each been advised to take a proffered weapon and carry it against the chance that they might find Millard—or Graves—in Washington, and find themselves under the necessity of taking him prisoner.

"Spies and traitors are taken alive or dead," the official had remarked who had handed them the weapons.

"How much further have we to go?" Jack inquired, as the cab turned down a country lane.

"Only a very short distance, now," replied Daisy Huston.

"Jove, but she's a stunning girl for nerve and principle," thought Lieutenant Jack, admiringly. "She's going, now, to what must be the tragedy of her plans and hopes, yet she has her color back again, and looks as composed as though out only for an airing!"

"There is the house," almost whispered the girl, at last, resting a steady, cool hand on his arm.

Jack looked and saw the place—a little, oldfashioned house, standing in among trees, some hundred feet from the road. In that swift glance he also noted that there were no ether buildings near.

Daisy Huston did not ask whether the young man at her side proposed to try to arrest the man he sought. She was too discreet to pry into his plans.

Up into the little yard before the house the horses trotted. Then, just as the cab was coming to a stop, the driver cracked his whip-lash twice.

Immediately the door flew open. Millard, as Jack Benson knew him, stepped out jauntily, a smile of delight on his face.

"Good enough, Daisy," he cried, as he strode toward the cab. "I see that you have won Benson over to our side. He shall be my friend, after this. But, Daisy, what—"

For the girl had sprung lightly out ere Jack Benson could assist her. The girl now stood, drawn to her full height, yet without affecting any theatrical pose. But over her lips hovered a smile of cool disdain that the look in her eyes heightened.

"Don't lie to me any more, Donald Graves," commanded the girl, steadily, "and don't deceive yourself. Both tasks, I know, will be hard for a man so vile that he'd sell his country's Flag!"

Millard stared at her in growing horror. Then anger rushed to his face.

"Daisy!" he gasped. "Have you betrayed me? Have you brought Benson here as an enemy?"

Daisy did not answer her former lover. She continued to gaze at him with an irony of expression that sent the hot blood mounting to his head.

"Can't you speak?" he demanded. "Then, Benson, why don't you talk?"

"Because," replied Jack, "I am waiting for Miss Huston to say to you all, or as little, as she cares to say."

"Speak, then!" commanded Millard, turning imperiously to the girl.

"And my command to you," retorted the girl, "is different. Silence! Never again address me, you traitor to your Flag!"

Millard was swift to realize the fullness of the girl's contempt. He knew that everything between them was over.

"Come, come, then, girl!" he uttered, harshly. "It is time for you to be gone! Step to the cab and get away from here, for I would spare you what is to follow—my reckoning with Benson!"

He clapped his hands. The door opened, and four men stepped out. Their type was not hard to determine. They were of the scum of humanity—ready for any desperate deed.



CHAPTER XXII

THE PART OF ABERCROMBIE, R.N.

"Come, girl, you must go!" commanded Millard, harshly.

"I will not," she replied, coldly, "until my escort is ready to go with me."

"He will not go with you," replied Millard, significantly. "And you must not remain. What is to be done here is no thing for a dainty woman to see."

"Mr. Benson," appealed the girl, "will you enter the cab first?"

"If he does, the cab will not leave," sneered Millard.

All this while the four men who had just come from the house were stealthily grouping themselves. Jack watched them alertly. He did not intend to be taken unawares, yet he hesitated to draw his pistol while Miss Huston was there.

"Go, girl!" Millard ordered again.

"I have told you, already, that I shall go only when Mr. Benson gives the word and accompanies me," replied the girl, white but courageous.

"Then we won't waste more time," laughed the wretch, harshly. "Since you will stay, then you must be a witness of what you have brought on my worst foe! Close in, men—get him!"

As the men sprang to obey, and Jack dodged nimbly back, Daisy Huston uttered a piercing scream. The next thing she did was wholly natural. Under the intense strain of her feelings the girl fainted.

"Take her!" nodded Millard, to the driver, who was plainly one of the desperate lot. "Take her from here as fast as you can."

The driver, ready for his work, snatched up the girl's light form.

"Have a care what you do—all of you!" cried Jack Benson, warningly, and now, in his hand, the revolver gleamed.

But one of the wretches, darting in at Jack's right, from behind, aimed a blow with a cudgel at the weapon. He struck it from the young lieutenant's hand.

Down to the ground it fell, but Lieutenant Benson was as quick as thought, now.

He bent over, snatching up the weapon, then ducked away from a follow-up blow at his own head, and sprang back.

"You first, then, Millard!" cried the young acting naval officer.

Full of purpose, Lieutenant Jack pressed the trigger. It stuck. No report followed. That blow from the cudgel had jammed the cylinder.

Having dropped the senseless form of Daisy Huston in the cab the driver sprang to the box, lashing the horses, just as Lieutenant Benson discovered the uselessness of his weapon as a firearm.

Then, indeed, young Benson knew that this must be a fight to the very death. Yet he was a naval officer at heart, as much as by special appointment. At a time like this he held life cheaply.

The first man to get within reach was laid flat by a blow with the butt of Jack's revolver.

Instantly young Benson wheeled, to strike at another pressing foe. Instead, he received a glancing though painful blow on his own left shoulder. Ere the assailant could recover, however, Benson leaped at him and would have felled him had not Millard himself leaped in, striking up the young naval officer's arm.

Once more Lieutenant Jack leaped back. His whole body was alert, nerves and muscles responding magnificently. He fairly vibrated defense.

"Close in on him, men—surround him!" snarled Millard. "You've got to get him! We haven't many minutes left. We don't know at what instant to look for interference."

Jack landed effectively on another of the rascals. Just as he was wheeling, however, to ward off the attack of another, a stick landed against his left knee, partly crippling him.

In moving backward Benson almost stumbled over a stone half the size of his head.

Right there, in the same movement with which he thrust the revolver into one of his pockets, he bent down, snatched up the heavy stone, and held it poised over his head.

"Now, come on! Now, close in!" cried Jack Benson, exulting. "The first man who gets too close has his head split open! Who wants it?"

His usually, good-humored face was transformed by the fiery rage of battle.

Surely there was some of the old Norseman streak left in Jack Benson's make-up.

As he stood there, keenly alert, ready to heave the rock, he looked like a young Thor armed with massive stone hammer.

"Spread! Get in back of him!" yelled Millard, hoarsely. "I'll take the position of attack in front. Down him!"

"Guess which way I'm going to heave this stone!" cried Jack, tauntingly, as he half wheeled, so as to watch those trying to steal a march in his rear.

"Bosh! You can soon stop that, men!" jeered Millard, suddenly. "Fall back and get a fistful of stones. Rain them in on the youngster at a safe distance. One of you will soon hit him and send him down!"

Young Benson gasped inwardly with dismay, though his face did not blanch. Millard's followers drew back to obey.

Yes! These fellows could throw small stones from a much greater distance than the young lieutenant could hurl the large one. They had but to keep up this fire for a few seconds when one of them was certain to hit him in the head, putting him out of the fight.

Jack Benson dropped the big stone, though he stood over it. Like a flash his revolver came out again. Aiming at Millard, the young naval officer made frantic efforts to make the cylinder revolve. But the weapon proved to be hopelessly jammed.

"Now, keep on volleying the youngster with until you have him down and wholly out!" yelled Millard, hoarsely.

The air seemed filled with stones. Jack hopped about as nimbly as possible, dodging all he could. Yet one part of his body after another was hit.

Rat-a-tat-tat! Jack hardly comprehended what this new noise meant when it grew in volume. Then a horseman rode into the yard at a charge.

"One down!" yelled the rider, with savage glee, as he drove his mount squarely against one of the wretches, bowling him over and underfoot.

Hardly seeming to veer, the rider made for another fellow, and barely missed him.

Just a second later, so it seemed, this valiant rider hauled the horse on its haunches, and swung back, heading for another wretch.

Millard leaped at the horseman, a stone in his uplifted fist.

But Jack Benson saw him, and a well-planted blow sent Millard to the ground.

"Bully good of you, Benson, old chap!" called a hearty voice. Then the horseman spurred forward, running down another of Benson's late assailants. The two remaining bolted as fast as they could, go.

"Mr. Abercrombie!" cried Lieutenant Jack.

"Yes, it's I: and jolly glad I got here in good time," laughed the British naval officer, whom this brief rollicking battle had made as gleeful as a boy.

"But how on earth did you happen to turn up?" asked Jack, a feeling of mystery coming over him after he had glanced at Millard and had made sure that the latter would "sleep" for some time to come.

"Why, I was out for my afternoon canter, dear old fellow," bubbled Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N. "I was coming down the road at a hard trot, don't you know, when a cab rolled by. A young woman—and a deuced pretty one—thrust her head out and shrieked at me. What could I do? It was deuced extraordinary, and I had to do something quickly, so I rode alongside the cab and told the driver to hold up. I must have looked unusually menacing, don't you know, for, by Jove, the fellow obeyed me. Then I reached up and yanked him down off the cab. The fellow really started to blackguard me, while the young woman was shouting something at me at the same time I had to silence the fellow, don't you know, so I could understand the young lady. So I struck him over the head with the butt of my riding whip. My word, I must have hit the blackguard hard, for he just curled up and lay down. The young lady sprang out of the cab and begged me to hurry down here. She looked able to take care of herself, so I just left my revolver with her, and, by Jove, here I am—and deuced glad of it. Upon my word, Benson, dear old fellow, all the luck seemed to be running against you."

"It was," Jack admitted, dryly. "But now I've got the man I came after. I've got to keep him, too," added Lieutenant Benson, gravely.

As he spoke, the submarine boy drew a pair of handcuffs from an inner pocket.

"By Jove, do naval youngsters in this country carry such jewelry?" murmured Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N.

"They do, I guess, when they're engaged on work like mine at present," smiled Lieutenant Jack, United States Navy.

"Now, then, by Jove, I think I'd better go back to the young lady," suddenly decided Abercrombie, for Millard still showed no signs of recovering his senses. One of the other two men who had been ridden down now recovered enough to begin to crawl away furtively.

"Do you want that chap?" asked Abercrombie.

"I have no facilities for keeping him a prisoner," Jack answered. "For that matter, I guess he's nothing but a hired tough. The Washington police can find and take care of him at their convenience."

"Good enough," nodded the British lieutenant. "And now—"

"Would you mind if I go to her, instead?" inquired Benson, hastily.

"Not in the least, dear old fellow. And, while you're gone, I'll constitute myself a special 'bobby' to look after this chap of yours in the bracelets."

So Jack hurried off up the road, wondering how Daisy Huston fared with a revolver and a hostile cabman.



CHAPTER XXIII

"FOREIGN TRADE" BECOMES BRISK

The cab horses were browsing quietly by the roadside.

Miss Daisy looked anything but perturbed.

In fact, she had passed all uneasiness of spirit on to the cab driver. That worthy had come back to his senses, but Miss Huston had compelled him to sit on the ground, his back to a tree. She stood a few yards away, watching the surly fellow and holding the pistol as though it were not the first time she had had such a weapon in her hand.

"Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Mr. Benson!" cried the girl, with true feminine relief. "I was so worried about you. But you're not hurt—badly. I hurried a horseman on to you. He reached you?"

"Yes, thank you," nodded Lieutenant Benson. "And now, Miss Huston, I must inform you that we have Millard—your Donald Graves—a prisoner and manacled. I must first find a way of getting you back into town. Then I must turn Millard over to the authorities."

"Why can't he go back in the same cab with me?" asked Miss Huston, quickly.

"You—could you endure that?"

"Yes," replied the girl, bravely. "I took you to him. I sent the assistance that enabled you to take him prisoner. Do not fear for me, Mr. Benson."

"By Jove, but you're clear grit, Miss Huston!" Lieutenant Jack cried, admiringly.

"Clear American, I hope," retorted the girl. "Why should men be the only ones who can do or dare for the Flag?"

"Will you let me have the revolver, Miss Huston?"

"Gladly."

"Thank you. Now, if you will get inside he cab again."

"And you?"

"I'll sit with the driver and watch him,"

Jack kept his eye on the surly fellow until Miss Huston was inside the cab.

"Now, fellow, you get up on the box, and handle the reins from the left side," ordered the young naval officer.

"I always drive on the right side o' the box," came the sulky retort.

"Undoubtedly; but you're driving on the left side this afternoon," returned Benson, with a look of significance. "By the way, did I mention the fact, yet, that I have an uncertain and bad temper? Now, climb up into your place, and don't you attempt to start until I'm beside you and give the word!"

A moment later Jack Benson sat beside the driver, holding the revolver in his right hand.

"Now, back to the house," spoke the young naval officer.

Without a word the driver turned his horses about, heading back.

"Here we are!" came, cheerily, from Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N.

Millard was sitting up, a black scowl on his face as Jack and the others appeared.

"Now, I've got to get this outfit back into Washington, somehow," mused Jack, after noticing that Abercrombie had allowed the other thug to crawl away to safety.

"Why, of course, dear old fellow, you under stand that I'm helping," hinted the British officer.

"That's mighty good of you," murmured Jack. "Then we can do it easily."

Daisy Huston had stepped from the cab. She stood regarding the scowling captive.

"I'm glad I know you, Donald; glad I found you out in time," she said, quietly, gazing hard at him.

"I thought you a friend," Millard retorted, bitterly. "Great Heavens, Daisy, if you had been on my side through thick and thin, in good report and ill, I could have defied all these idiots in Washington. What an ally you would have been! But you chose to be an enemy."

"An enemy to my country's enemies, yes," replied the girl, steadily.

"Do you hate me, Daisy?"

"I don't know," the girl answered, thoughtfully. "Do you hate me, now, Donald Graves?"

"I wish I knew," uttered the man. "But it's hard to turn love like mine into hate at a moment's notice. Daisy, the nights are coming when you'll wake up with a frightened start, and sob as you remember how you turned me over to—"

"To the officers of the country that you have done your best to betray," broke in the girl, firmly. "No, no, Donald! Do not imagine that I shall shed any tears for you, seen or unseen. Mr. Benson, I am ready, if you wish to place—your—your—prisoner in the cab beside me."

"It seems like a beastly outrage to do it," muttered Jack, full of misgivings.

"Not at all," declared the girl, steadily. "I am glad to see this man on his way to the bar of justice."

Jack assisted Daisy Huston, with the utmost deference, to a seat inside the vehicle. Then he turned to motion to handcuffed Millard—or Graves—that he was to take the seat beside the woman he had hoped to make his wife.

"I'll ride close alongside, to make sure there's no unpleasant conduct toward Miss Huston," volunteered Mr. Abercrombie.

Jack Benson again climbed to the cab box.

"You know I have the pistol," muttered Jack, showing the driver the weapon. "There's no need to ride through the town with the weapon in my hand. But, if you try to cut up any tantrums, you may be sure you'll find your own wrists inside of handcuffs."

"I know when I ain't got no show at all," growled the sullen driver.

"Drive ahead, then—into Washington, and straight to police headquarters."

Lieutenant Abercrombie, R.N., jogged his own mount steadily alongside, so that he could at all times command a view of the interior.

Millard—Donald Graves—would have opened some conversation with Daisy Huston, but the disdainful girl cut him short.

As the cab rolled into the busier streets of Washington Lieutenant Abercrombie drew a little further away from the cab, in order not to attract attention, though he still remained actively on guard.

The prisoner's manacled hands did not show to the people passing on the sidewalks.

So, altogether, no passersby thought to turn to look after the cab.

Just as the little procession turned a street corner to drive direct to the door of police headquarters, Abercrombie waved a hand carelessly to three pedestrians on the sidewalk.

"Abercrombie!" cried Lieutenant Ulwin. "And there's Benson on the box of that hack!"

"Come right along into headquarters," whispered Abercrombie. "Don't make any noise."

Wondering until they were fairly agape, Ulwin, Hal and Eph drew up at the cab door as Jack, after only a brief nod to them, opened the door and handed out Miss Daisy Huston.

Lieutenant Abercrombie, having given his horse to a boy down the street to hold, now came forward, raising his hat, to take charge of the young lady.

"Come along, Millard," called Jack Benson, quietly, and the prisoner got out, while the British officer stepped down the street with his fair companion to find another carriage in which she could return home.

Inside Jack marched his prisoner up to the railing in one of the rooms. The young naval officer at once produced his credentials and displayed them to the police official in charge.

"Now, with your permission, sir," Jack went on, courteously, "I will use your telephone, and inform the Navy Department of the prisoner who awaits their action here."

Five minutes later this had been done. Benson turned to Lieutenant Abercrombie, saying:

"I must apologize for not having thought to return your revolver as soon as we entered."

"I would beg you to keep the weapon, dear old fellow, if it would be of any use to you," replied the British officer.

And now Hal and Eph found chance to explain that they, worried by Jack Benson's disappearance, had at last started down to headquarters to see if they could learn of any mishap to him, or of any other explanation for his long absence.

"Well, it's all over now," muttered Hal. "Millard—or Graves—or whatever other name the fellow may be using at this moment—is safe in a cell downstairs."

"We thought, once before, that we had him bottled up safely," chuckled Lieutenant Jack. "Mr. Abercrombie, how am I ever going to express my thanks to you?"

"I should feel extremely insulted, dear old fellow, if you thought it necessary to thank me," retorted the Briton, heartily.

"It will be dark, soon," interposed Lieutenant Ulwin. "I suggest that the best thing any of us can do is to turn toward the club. I feel certain that the chef will have a famous dinner there to-night."

"We haven't any evening clothes, either citizen or uniform, in Washington," interposed Jack Benson, who knew something of the formalities of the service during the dinner hour.

"Come, just the same," begged Ulwin. "The members don't expect too much of fellows who are traveling."

Jack was glad of the walk, because it helped to take the stiffness out of the knee that had been struck.

"You let the cab driver go, did you!" asked Eph, as the submarine boys walked along together.

"Yes," nodded Jack. "I had no orders concerning anyone like him. He's only some worthless character hired for the job. He didn't have any hand in the bigger job of collecting and selling harbor defense plans, you may be sure."

As the party re-entered the club they found a large attendance. Nor was it many moments before a be-moustached German officer approached the group.

"Oh, Herr Ulwin," he asked, "can you oblige me by excusing Herr Benson for a moment or two? And will you come with me, Herr Benson, to meet a friend who wishes to shake your hand?"

Jack slipped away with the German officer, who conducted him to another room.

"I think you have met my friend before," explained the German, and wheeled the submarine boy straight up in front of Herr Professor Radberg.

"You see," smiled the professor, "we meet again."

"It is a great pleasure, surely," declared Jack, as he shook hands. The officer stepped a few paces away.

"And now, when, my dear young friend, are you going to give me your word that you and your comrades will enter the German torpedo service? I have somewhat better terms to offer you than when we last met. I have since been authorized to promise you that you shall enter the German service as commissioned officers, and that you shall all three be in line for promotion as merit earns it. So, then, it is all settled, is it not!"

Herr Professor Radberg rubbed his hands with a self-satisfied air.

"Yes," Lieutenant Jack admitted, "it is all settled. But not the way that you would wish, Herr Professor Radberg. There may be soldiers of fortune who follow any flag, for hire. But we submarine boys would not enter your German naval service if you created all three of us high admirals at the outset."

"Admirals?" cried Herr Professor Radberg, protestingly. "Oh, but that, my dear young friend, would be quite impossible."

"You are wasting your time with us, sir," Jack continued, firmly. "We may, one of these days, be asked to enter the American service permanently. We would not enter any other country's service, no matter what the bait. Do not give the matter any further thought, please, for we won't."

The German officer had been standing a few paces away, twirling his moustache and frowning. Now, he came forward.

"Herr Benson," he broke in, "I fear that you are so young that you do not fully understand the honor and dignity of being officers in the German service."

"Very likely we do not, Captain," Jack returned, with a bow. "And it is absolutely certain that we shall never find out from experience."

Lieutenant Jack excused himself, turning to seek his friends. As Benson entered the reading room once more he came upon Eph and another whose face was decidedly familiar. It was the Chevalier d'Ouray.

"Just in time, Jack," nodded Eph. "Tell the Chev. for me, please as he doesn't seem to understand my talk, that we wouldn't even give the slightest consideration to his idea that we should enter the French naval service in the submarine division."

"It is quite hopeless, Chevalier," laughed Jack Benson, shaking his head. "The honor is quite enough to turn our heads, but we can serve only the United States."

The Chevalier d'Ouray made a low bow, then turned away, for others were approaching.

"Where is Hal?" asked Jack.

"Crickety! Look at him over there, talking to that little Japanese," muttered Eph, inclining his head toward a corner.

Hal and a Japanese were talking earnestly. At any rate, the little brown man was. Hal was listening, occasionally shaking his head. Then Hastings happened to espy his chums. He turned to the Japanese, to take his leave, but the little brown man followed him across the floor, still talking in low tones.

"Captain Nakasura has been trying to interest me in the idea that we three go over to Japan, under a three years' contract, to act as instructors and advisers in submarine work," Hal told his comrades.

"And I have high hope that you will see matter same as I do," smiled the Japanese attache persistently.

"We shan't," Jack declared, shaking his head, emphatically. "Captain, you are the third, representing also the third nation, that has just approached us on this matter. We shall serve no other country than our own."

"But my government," urged the Japanese officer, "will make you most handsome offer."

"Do you remember the day when we were leaving Dunhaven, and you tried to overtake us in a gasoline launch?" asked Jack, with a smile.

"Yes; very well," admitted Nakasura.

"Do you remember that we hoisted the signal, N.D.? That meant 'nothing doing,' Captain. Our answer is the same, and will be, to-morrow and the next year."

"Ah, here you are!" cried Lieutenant Abercrombie, as he hurried up and Captain Nakasura vanished beyond middle distance. "Benson, dear old fellow, I want just a word with you before dinner is served," continued the Briton, thrusting his arm through Jack's and drawing him away after a nod of apology to Hal and Eph. "Benson, I've had something on my mind all day; something I have had instructions to broach to you. I have been waiting for the right moment. Now, I must breathe just a word or two, and then let you think it over during dinner, don't you know?"

"See here," smiled Jack, standing back, sudden suspicion in his eyes. "Don't tell me you've been instructed to see whether I'll enter the British submarine service."

"Just that, dear old chap!" beamed Abercrombie, enthusiastically. "But how could you guess? Fact, though! And not only you, but Hastings and Somers as well, don't you know!"

"You're the fourth to spring this on us tonight," answered Jack Benson, soberly. "And the answer will have to be the same for all of you."

"The same for all of us, dear chap?" demanded Abercrombie. "How can that be?"

"The answer in every case is the same," retorted Jack. "If our own government doesn't want us, no other government can have us. We stand by our own Flag."

"Eh? What is this?" muttered Lieutenant Ulwin, coming unexpectedly upon the pair. "Foreign government competing for you lads, Benson? This won't do!"

"Which is what I have just had the honor of telling Mr. Abercrombie," smiled Jack, earnestly.



CHAPTER XXIV

THEIR LIVES DEEDED TO THE FLAG

Secretary Sanders, Secretary of the Navy, looked up at the three young men who stood in line at the right-hand side of his desk.

It was two days later; two days during which Jack, Hal and Eph had had little to do except roam about Washington and see all the sights of the National Capital. This they had varied by dropping in at the United Service Club.

"Gentlemen," remarked the Secretary of the Navy, "you have not yet been relieved of your detail to the gunboat 'Sudbury.'"

"It's coming now," thought each of the three boys to himself, with a great wave of dismay. "We are to be no longer of the Navy."

"I will give instructions at once," continued Secretary Sanders, "to have orders issued relieving you from that duty."

"Yes; it has come," muttered Jack, drearily, to himself. "Our service with the Navy is over."

"Gentlemen," and now, for a few seconds, the voice of the Secretary seemed far away indeed, "I am sensible of all you have done for your country, and above all, of the zeal you have shown. Besides, I have in mind the fact that you have made yourselves among the most expert of all handlers of submarine torpedo boats. If it can be arranged, I wish to keep all three of you actively in the United States Navy."

Jack Benson looked up with a gasp. His comrades were not less astounded.

"I am aware," Mr. Sanders went on, "that we could not expect you to enlist as mere apprentices. In your own particular field of submarine work you are amply fitted to hold officers' commissions. Yet, under the law, you cannot be granted commissions until you are twenty-one years of age. None of you are quite eighteen.

"Therefore, it has occurred to me that you can be appointed, specially, with rank, command and pay, until you are twenty-one. The President agrees with me in what I have to offer. You, Mr. Benson, are offered a special appointment as lieutenant, junior grade, in the United States Navy. You, Mr. Hastings, and you, Mr. Somers, are offered special appointments as ensigns. You will all have the privileges of your ranks except the actual commissions. Yet you will be actual officers, and entitled to full respect. Moreover, the President promises that, when you are twenty-one years of age, you shall have regular commissions promptly. In case the President is not re-elected to his office, he agrees to urge upon his successor in the White House the fulfilment of the promise. So, if you accept the special appointments, now, you are absolutely certain of commissions as soon as you reach the age of twenty-one. Perhaps it is only just to add that we are aware that all three of you have already been offered commissions in foreign navies, and that you have refused. Both the President and myself appreciate your loyalty to your own Flag. Now, what do you young gentlemen say to accepting special appointments to run until you are each twenty-one?"

"Mr. Secretary, it's the brightest, the one great dream with us all," Jack Benson replied, hoarsely. "There is just one thing that could hold us back. We really feel in honor bound to Mr. Farnum and Mr. Pollard to stand by their interests, for they have been our best friends."

"What do you say to that, Mr. Farnum?" inquired the Secretary.

From behind a screen stepped Jacob Farnum, the Dunhaven shipbuilder.

"Why, see here, boys," began Farnum, a broad smile on his face, "I received a long wire from Mr. Sanders yesterday. Dave Pollard and I talked this thing over, and we decided that the Pollard boat is now an assured success. You have put the boats where we can now build and run them without you. You are more needed in the Navy. Now, Dave and I both urge you to go where we know your hearts are—into the Navy. And you will go with all our best wishes. The government needs you, now, to handle the boats that we build up at Dunhaven, and to train war-crews for those boats. There is only one objection to your entering the Navy, boys. You will have to pass upon our boats. We know you will do that honestly and fearlessly; yet there are many who would sneer at having boats passed on for the government by young officers who hold stock in our concern. Now, the amount of stock that each of you holds has been growing steadily with each new success that you have won for us, which if you enter the Navy you should not own. So Dave and I offer you ten thousand dollars each for the shares that you hold. It is a fair valuation."

"I know it is, if you offer it, Mr. Farnum," Jack Benson replied, with feeling.

"Then you'll accept, and take your very heart's-wish—the Navy—all of you?" asked Mr. Farnum.

"I accept both your offer, Mr. Farnum, and, the greater offer of the Secretary of the Navy," replied Jack, his eyes becoming misty.

"I accept," murmured Hal.

"So do I," from Eph.

"Then, sir," declared Jacob Farnum, turning to the Secretary of the Navy, "the Flag is richer by three magnificent young followers!"

* * * * * * * * * *

Here we must leave the submarine boys for the present, for these events happened hardly later than yesterday, and there are no new adventures yet to chronicle.

Donald Graves—Millard—received a severe sentence in the penitentiary. He is still serving the sentence, of course. Gray, his accomplice, who attempted to spirit the drawings outside of the United States, is now likewise serving a term.

The trial was a swift, nearly secret one. Daisy Huston was not dragged into the case at all. In one respect the trial failed. Neither culprit could be forced to tell for which foreign government the dastardly work had been attempted. The "Spitfire" returned to Dunhaven, and was later sold to the government, with several other boats. Williamson became the new Pollard captain.

Several foreign governments were deeply disappointed over not being able to secure the services of the submarine boys.

But Jack, Hal and Eph could be happy nowhere except under their own Flag.

They are now accepted most cordially by all their brother officers, young and old, in the United States Navy.

For the most part, so far, the duties of our young officers have been aboard the different boats purchased from the Pollard Company. Yet, for the sake of practice and change, they have been, at times, detailed aboard other classes of craft in the Navy.

We shall now encounter our young acting naval officers in one of their new fields of special work, in the next volume of this series, which is published under the title: "The Submarine Boys And the Smugglers; Or, Breaking Up the New Jersey Customs Frauds." Here we shall find our talented lads engaged in doing some of their finest work for Uncle Sam's Government, and under circumstances that will delight every reader.

THE END