“If he could hear you, he would be charmed with the outlook,” muttered the young woman, shrugging her shoulders.

“Sara, do you comprehend the situation altogether?  The Pollard type of submarine boat is now the most formidable and dangerous in the world—­and only the United States Government can buy boats from the makers!  Any country in the world that goes to war with the United States must be beaten unless that country knows how to provide itself with submarine boats equal to those of the Pollard make.  You may be sure that, at this moment, Spruce Beach is overrun with spies representing every great government in the world.  The first country to buy, steal, coax or drag out the Pollard secrets wins!  You know the master we serve, Sara, among the governments.  We must be the spies who win—­even though all the Pollard crew have to be destroyed!”

CHAPTER IV

KAMANAKO APPEARS ON THE SCENE

Had Jack Benson or Hal Hastings heard that strange talk, perhaps neither of them would have slept as soundly that night.

As it was, both submarine boys slept more soundly and sweetly than any other human being in that great hotel, unless, possibly, it were Jacob Farnum.

At daylight all three were astir.

Wrapped in bathrobes that concealed their bathing suits the three made their way down to the beach.  There, for ten minutes, they enjoyed themselves in the surf.

“Seems mighty queer to be bathing in salt water in December, doesn’t it?” demanded Hal, gleefully, as, with both hands, he launched a column of salt water that caught Jack neatly in the face.

“Anyway, I believe it’s just what the family medical man ordered,” chuckled Mr. Farnum, as he stepped shoreward, then ran briskly up and down the beach before he went in again for a final plunge.

Over to the bath house, where an attendant had carried their clothing, the three now hastened.  After a brisk rub-down and dressing, these three from the “Benson” presented themselves in the hotel dining room, where, at this very early hour, they were privileged to breakfast all by themselves.

“The way my appetite feels,” laughed Jack, enjoyably, “I pity the guests who have to follow us at table.”

“There won’t be any breakfast left.  They can have lunch,” declared Hal Hastings, gravely.

Hardly had the food been placed before them when Mr. Farnum glanced up, to find at his elbow a bowing, smiling little Japanese.

“Honorable sir, may I address you while you eat?” inquired the little brown man.

“Why not?” asked Farnum, good-humoredly.  “Take a chair, won’t you, Mr.—­”

“Kamanako is my name, honorable sir,” replied the Japanese, with three more bows.

“Take a seat, won’t you, Mr. Kamanako?” Mr. Farnum invited him again.

“It is much better, honorable sir, that I stand.”