The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service

"I will tell you. We anarchists hate all law and order. We wish to be a law to ourselves. All law is oppression. Such is our teaching. Navies and armies represent power and help to keep law and order, therefore, when the time comes, we wish" – he paused reflectively – "to destroy all such tools of oppression."

Chance, calloused as he was, gasped.

"You mean you would dare to destroy or try to damage, the property of the United States?" he gasped.

"I mean what I said, my young man."

"Oh, say, count us out, then. That's too much for me. Say, Merritt, let's be getting back."

"Hold on a minute," snarled the masquerading photographer, changing in an instant from a docile creature into an alert, dangerous martinet, "you can't refuse to fall in with my plans now. If you do I shall crush you. You are in my power now."

"Pooh!" scoffed Merritt. "How do you make that out?"

But, though he strove to make his tone easy, there was an under note of anxiety in it.

"How do I make it out? In this way, my friends: If you are false to your promises to me, I shall denounce you to the government authorities. I have witnesses to all that you said this afternoon in my room at the hotel. The man you thought was a waiter was in my employ, and is an anarchist, like myself. That shabby little peddler who came to sell some cheap jewelry was another of the same belief. They heard all you said. Moreover, they saw you accept money from me – "

"But you told us that all you wanted us to do was to get those plans from Ned Strong when he comes along this way from the lieutenant's house to-night," gasped Chance.

"Yes; but I may have other uses for you. Rest assured that you are in a web from which you cannot escape. If you try to play false to me, I will have you sent to the place which Uncle Sam reserves for traitors and spies."

"Oh, well," said Merritt slyly, "we may as well make the best of it. Let's talk business. In the first place, did you bring the disguises?"

Herr Muller, as we must know him, rejoined in the affirmative. "I have them in that old barn," he said.

"Very well. The time is getting along. We had better go up there and assume them. By the way, have you any pistols for us? We couldn't smuggle out our service revolvers."

"Pistols!" scoffed the other. "What do you want pistols for? Are there not three of you against one? And I will be in reserve in case he proves too much for you."

"Um, I know; that's all very well," muttered Chance, "but you don't know this fellow Strong. He's as powerful as a bull, and will fight like a wild-cat."

"But he's up against overpowering odds to-night," Merritt rejoined, with regained confidence. "This is the time that Ned Strong, the favored paragon of the navy, is going to get his – and get it good."

"You can bet he is," agreed Chance and Kennell, with clenched teeth.

"I've got a few scores to pay off on my own account," added the latter.

"Well, here are your disguises," said Herr Muller, striking a match and indicating a bundle in one corner of the barn. Presently he produced a pocket flash-lamp, and held it cautiously while Merritt and Chance, two traitors to the United States, invested themselves in the rough-looking garments he had provided. They were complete, even to false whiskers. When they had attired themselves in the tattered clothes and adjusted the remainder of their disguises, two more disreputable-looking specimens of the genus tramp than Merritt and Chance presented could not have been imagined.

"You'll do finely," declared Herr Muller, with deep satisfaction, when the preparations were concluded. "I'd be scared of you myself, if I met you on a dark road," he added, with peculiar humor.

"How about me?" asked Kennell. "That 'Dreadnought Boy,' as they call him, knows me."

"Pshaw! that's so," said Herr Muller. "Well, see here," producing a handkerchief, "tie this over the lower part of your face and you will be well enough disguised."

"I reckon so," agreed Kennell, adopting the suggestion.

In the meantime, Ned had been practically the guest of honor at Lieutenant De Free's quarters. Two or three other naval officers were present, and they all displayed frank interest in the bright, intelligent youth and his invention, which he explained at length.

"But, my dear De Frees," one of them – a young ensign named Tandy – had declared, "you can say all you like about the aeroplane in warfare. In efficiency it will never take the place of the submarine, for instance. I'm willing to wager any amount that on any night that I held the deck, an aeroplane, equipped with pontoons or anything else, could not, by any possibility, approach within a hundred yards of my vessel."

"You really think so, Tandy?" queried Lieutenant De Frees good-naturedly. "Well, I tell you what we will do: At some other time we'll meet and talk it over. If you are still in the same mind, we will draw up conditions for such a test. It should be interesting and of great value theoretically."

"Yes," laughed Tandy, "it will demonstrate the fact that no aerial craft could torpedo or blew up a war vessel at night without being perceived in time. Therefore, what is the use of equipping the ships with such craft? They take up valuable room and waste a lot of money which would be better spent on guns and ordnance."

"I agree with you, Tandy," said Lieutenant Morrow, a veteran of many years' service, "from my observation of aeroplanes, one could not get within bomb-dropping or torpedo-aiming distance of a war vessel at night. Why, the noise of their engines would alone betray their nearness."

"But what if she glided up on pontoons?" smiled Lieutenant De Frees.

"The same thing would hold good," declared young Ensign Tandy, with a confident air.

Of course, Ned, as a petty officer, could not take part in this conversation, but it made a deep impression on him. After warm good-nights from the officers, who really felt an admiration for this clean-cut and self-respecting, although perfectly respectful young sailor, Ned set out on his homeward way. In his breast-pocket – or rather tucked inside his loose blouse – he carried the plans of his invention.

It was quite dark, with the exception of a pallid light given out by a sickly moon, that was every now and then obscured altogether by hurrying clouds. Ned walked along quickly, at his usual swinging pace. His thoughts were too much upon his invention for him to pay much attention to his surroundings.

All at once, however, he stopped short and listened for an instant. But not a sound, except the sighing of a light, night wind in the trees that bordered the road, disturbed the stillness.

"Funny," mused Ned; "I could have been certain I saw a light flash by that old bridge right ahead. I guess I'm seeing things, too, like Herc."

So thinking, he struck once more into his regular pace. A few steps brought him into a patch of velvety shadow caused by the thick-growing shrubs and alders that edged the creek which the bridge spanned.

"What a spot for a hold-up!" thought the young man-o'-war's-man, when he entered the blackness. As he did so, a sharp chill struck him. A keen sense of impending danger caused him to swing sharply around.

It was well he had heeded his intuition, for, as he turned, a heavy bludgeon whistled by his ear. It had been aimed for his head, but his sudden and unexpected move had saved him.

For a breath, Ned stood rooted to the spot. Then his eyes blazed with anger.

"Come on, you skulking thieves!" he cried in a high, clear voice, "I'm ready for you!"

CHAPTER X

A DREADNOUGHT BOY AT BAY

The Dreadnought Boy's challenge was still vibrating when, from every side, dark figures seemed to spring. They rushed at him like so many tigers. Ned struck out blindly.

It was hard to distinguish anything in the darkness, but twice in the first few seconds of his desperate battle against odds, he felt his fists encounter some one's features. The feeling gave him a sense of distinct satisfaction.

"One! Two!" counted the young man-o'-war's-man grimly, as his fists shot out right and left like sledge-hammers.

But Ned knew, as well as his opponents, that four to one are almost insurmountable odds. Already he had knocked two of his foes sprawling, when he was struck a blow from behind that staggered him. But it was only for an instant. The next moment he had turned and seized by the throat the man who had aimed the blow. He shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. He could hear the fellow's teeth chatter, but it was too dark to distinguish features.

In the meantime, his fallen opponents had picked themselves up. So far the fight had progressed in ominous silence, save for the deep breaths and stamping feet of those engaged in it. But now, fury at this unexpectedly stubborn resistance brought words to the lips of his foes. They were not nice words, and Ned thrilled with a desire to silence their utterers, for he was a clean-spoken boy, who hated profanity in any form.

Suddenly, as if by concerted consent, his foes ceased their separate attacks, and massed like a wolf pack preparing to finish its prey. Ned had hardly sensed the new situation and braced himself to meet it before they were upon him.

Thud! thud!

The lad's fists met their mark fairly, and once more two of his opponents reeled back. But this time they did not fall. Instead, they rallied to the attack.