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.