“But—­”

“That’s really all I can do,” Jack Benson hastily assured the fellow.  “I’m not the owner of the boat, and I can’t take any liberties.  Oh, wait just a moment.  I’ll see if there’s any chance of Mr. Farnum coming back to-night.”

Jack knew well enough that there wasn’t any chance of Mr. Farnum returning, unless possibly at a very late hour with the naval officers, but the boy had seen the night watchman peering out through the gateway.

Retracing his steps, Jack drew the night watchman inside, whispering: 

“Just a pointer for you.  You’ve seen that man on the street with us?  He has a letter from Mr. Pollard to Mr. Farnum, but I wouldn’t let him in the yard to-night, unless Mr. Farnum appears and gives the order.”

“I understand,” said the night watchman, nodding.

“That’s all, then, and thank you.”

Jack Benson hastily rejoined the others on the sidewalk.

“I don’t believe, Mr. Truax, it will be worth your while to come here earlier than eight in the morning.  Better go to the hotel and tie up to a good sleep.  Good night.”

“Say, why did you take such a dislike to the fellow?” queried Eph, as the three submarine boys strolled on up the street, Truax following slowly at some distance in the rear.

“I didn’t take a dislike to him,” Jack replied, opening his eyes wide.

“You choked him off mighty short, then.”

“If it looked that way, then I’m sorry,” Benson protested, in a tone of genuine regret.  “All I wanted to make plain was that I couldn’t pass him on to our precious old boat without Mr. Farnum’s order.”

Truax plodded slowly along behind the submarine boys, a cunning look in the man’s eyes as he stared after Jack Benson.

“You’re a slick young man, or else a wise one,” muttered Truax.  “But I think I’m smart enough to take it out of you!”

Nor did Sam Truax go to the hotel.  He had his own plans for this evening—­plans that boded the submarine boys no good.

The three boys strolled easily about town, getting a hot soda or two, and, finally, drifting into a moving picture show that had opened recently in Dunhaven.  This place they did not leave until the show was over.  They were half-way home when Captain Jack remembered that he had left behind him a book that he had bought earlier in the evening.

“You fellows keep right on down to the yard.  I’ll hurry back, get the book and overtake you,” he proposed.

Jack ran back, but already the little theatre was closed.

“I’m out that book, then, if we sail in the morning,” he muttered, as he trudged along after his friends.

On the way toward the water front Benson had to pass a vacant lot surrounded by a high board fence on a deserted street.  He had passed about half way along the length of the fence, when a head appeared over the top followed by a pair of arms holding a small bag of sand.  Down dropped the bag, striking Jack Benson on the top of the head, sending him unconscious to the ground.