The Dreadnought Boys on Aero Service

"Ye-es," drawled Herc judicially, "even without putting two and two together, I must say that I agree with you. But what particular brand of mischief is he up to now, do you think?"

"Well, in the first place, he doesn't want the plans of the Manhattan just because of his interest in naval architecture."

"No, hardly. But it gets me what he does want them for."

"I've formed a pretty definite idea," rejoined Ned. "It was those torpedoes that set me thinking. Herc, I believe that a gigantic plot to injure the American navy is on foot. Those torpedoes are aboard to be used in pursuance of that purpose."

"Jiminy crickets!" yelled Herc, fairly brought to his feet; "and you talk about it as calmly as if you were asking me to come and have an ice-cream soda. By the same token, if I don't get something to drink pretty soon I'll dry up and wither away."

"We've got to keep calm," rejoined Ned. "Getting excited won't do any good. Look here, Herc, have you anything in the shape of a wrench about you?"

"I've got that small one I use on the motor of my aeroplane."

"Not any too big," commented Ned. "But it'll have to do. Now, Herc, you watch the stairway while I get busy."

"If any one comes down, shall I tackle them?" asked the freckle-faced youth, who was always ready for a rough-and-tumble.

"Good gracious, no! To arouse their suspicions that we are anything but friendly to them would never do. Just tell me if you hear any one fumbling with the door."

"All right," said Herc, taking up his position at the foot of the stairway.

Ned at once yanked up the section of flooring operated by the ring. By dint of wriggling and twisting, he managed to work himself down into the compartment containing the deadly implements. Then he set to work with his wrench.

The task kept him busy for half an hour or more. When he finally emerged from his cramped quarters into the cabin, he carried something very carefully wrapped in his handkerchief. Whatever it was, he threw it out of the cabin port and breathed a sigh of relief when he had done so. Two more trips were necessary before the flooring was replaced, and each time Ned threw something out.

Herc was about to ask his comrade what he was doing, when the preliminary fumbling at the bolts above warned him that they were about to have a visitor.

Instantly both lads resumed the same positions they had occupied when Herr Muller left the cabin. They had just time to assume them when the man himself opened the companionway doorway and descended.

"Well, have you made up your minds?" he began, without any preliminaries.

"We have," replied Ned. "I'll do as you wish in regard to the plan of the battleship. But you haven't mentioned anything about compensation as yet."

"It will be large. You have my word for that. Isn't that enough?"

Ned, inwardly thinking that it certainly wasn't, agreed that it was.

"I'll get you pencils and paper, and you can set to work right away," said Herr Muller.

But just as he spoke there came a loud crash on deck, and a series of alarmed shouts. Herr Muller turned and sprang quickly back up the stairway. The boys, feeling certain that some calamity had occurred, followed him.

As they gained the deck they were astonished to find that the sloop was out of sight of land. A desolate expanse of gray, tumbling billows was stretched about her. But their glances only dwelt on this for an instant. Their immediate attention was caught by a group in the stern, bending over a prostrate figure.

"It's Chance!" exclaimed Ned, hastening aft, followed by Herc.

"A block tore loose from above and struck him on the head," one of the followers of Herr Muller was explaining as the boys came up.

The leader of the strange band bent over the unconscious man and felt his head with a manner that betokened some medical skill.

"It is only a flesh wound," he said, "but the shock has made him unconscious. Carry him below, some of you. He'll soon be all right again."

Kennell was one of those who volunteered for this service. Merritt was another. As they passed the two boys, carrying their limp burden, Kennell turned to Ned:

"Well, my young sneak, they've got you collared this time," he said with a leer, "you walked into the trap like a baby taking candy."

Ned did not deign to reply to the fellow. Instead, he listened to Herr Muller who was talking excitedly.

"Of all unlucky things to happen at this time," he was saying. "We shall be within the wireless zone of the fleet at any time now, and the only man on board who understands wireless is incapacitated. It is most unfortunate."

A sudden idea came to Ned. Possibly by volunteering to act in Chance's place he might find a way out of the maze that involved them.

Acting on his impulse he stepped up to Muller.

"I understand wireless," he said; "what messages do you want taken?"

"I don't know yet," rejoined Herr Muller, looking much relieved. Then suddenly his manner changed.

"But you understand the naval code, too, don't you?"

The manner in which the question was worded put Ned on his guard. He saw that it would be better to reply in the negative.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I haven't had much to do with the signal part of man-o'-war work; but, of course, I learned something of wireless at the naval school."

"Good!" exclaimed Herr Muller; "come with me."

He ushered the boys below – for Herc had trailed along – and into the small wireless room Ned had noticed.

"I am expecting a message at any time now," he said; "but it will come in cipher. Get it absolutely accurate and you will not suffer by it."

Ned nodded.

"Better see about hoisting your aerials," he said.

Herr Muller hurried off on this errand, while Ned looked over the instruments surrounding him. They glistened with brass and polished steel in the smoky light of a bulkhead lamp. But despite the evident haste with which they had been installed, it was easy to see that the apparatus was the finest obtainable.

"What on earth can be up now?" wondered Herc, as Ned took up the metal headpiece and adjusted it.

"Don't know yet," said Ned. "It's evident, though, that Muller is in hopes of picking up some information from the fleet by eavesdropping on its wireless. I'm mighty glad now that I didn't tell him I could read cipher."

Further conversation was interrupted by the re-entrance of Herr Muller. He stepped brusquely up to Ned.

"You had better be ready to catch anything you can," he said; "everything is in readiness above, and we should be picking up messages at any moment now."

Ned nodded and sat down on the stool set over against the table, on which the glittering array of instruments were fastened.

For a long time – or so it seemed to him – he sat thus. Suddenly, in his ears, there sounded the faintest of scratching sounds. It was as soft as the footsteps of an invalid fly. But Ned knew that somewhere out on the sea ship was speaking to ship, and that what he heard was the echo of their talk.

Suddenly he picked up a pencil and began to write rapidly. Herr Muller bent over his shoulder. He watched with keen absorption as Ned's pencil flew over the paper.