CHAPTER IV
JACK'S QUEER LOT OF LOOT
"Stop, thief!"
Jack Benson only sped onward the faster.
"Halt, you young rascal!" roared the long-legged one, in pursuit.
"The fellow who can call names like that, under the circumstances, hasno sense of humor!" chuckled the submarine boy, inwardly.
"Drop that chart and book!" panted the one in chase. "You're stealinggovernment property!"
"Yes, but which government?" Jack shot back at his pursuer.
"Are you going to stop?"
Jack's answer was to increase his burst of speed slightly.
"Then I'm going to fire!" came the warning. Glancing over his shoulderthe submarine boy saw the long-legged one still running after him. Atthe same time the pursuer was raising his revolver, sighting.
Jack felt a little shiver. He had never been suspected of being acoward, yet he was willing to admit that he didn't want to feel achunk of lead plowing its way through him.
"Last word to halt!" yelled the pursuer, in an ugly tone.
"Fire, then!" dared Jack Benson.
Crack! Whizz-zz! Chug! The weapon was discharged promptly. Jack,still in flight, heard the bullet whistle by him. Then it struck thesand, fifty feet ahead, throwing up a spurt of the fine particles.
"That was for a caution. The next shot will be to hit!" panted thepursuer.
"I wonder if you can do it?" Jack taunted backward over his shoulder.
There was method in the submarine boy's tactics. He hoped, by makingthe stranger angry, to spoil his aim.
Crack! The bullet sped by, fanning the fugitive's face. The closeaim, however, had the reverse of the effect expected by the marksman.It roused all the submarine boy's anger. He might be hit, but hewould stop, now, only if a bullet laid him low.
Two more shots sped after the fugitive. Their aim was too close forcomfort, though not true enough to score a hit. Each of the shotssounded a bit further back, too.
"He's getting winded," gritted the running submarine boy. "With his longlegs that chap ought to get over ground faster than I. The differenceis that that fellow is out of condition, and my hard work keeps meabout up to the mark of condition all the time. He--"
Crack! Jack happened to turn, just as the fellow fired, and the boy wasable to see that the bullet struck the ground behind him.
"Out of range!" clicked Benson. "What's the good of carrying a pocketrevolver for service work? Now, if he had a dozen shots more left hewould be wasting his cartridges to fire at me."
In fact, it was plain enough that the pursuer had given up the chase forthe time being. Not only was he out of range of his quarry, but thelong-legged one lacked the wind to keep on on foot.
"Say, what a fool I'd have been, to give up this plunder!" cried Jack,mockingly. "That chap couldn't catch me; he couldn't hit me. So I'vegotten away with the stuff he was so anxious to have--and which theArmy, I'll bet, would a thousand times rather he didn't have!"
"Now, how am I going to get back to the Army people?" wondered youngBenson, slowing down to a walk, though keeping a vigilant lookout tothe rear. "I don't want to walk something like a million miles to finda place from which I can get across the bay."
It was desolate country, over here. Jack and the long-legged one, wellto his rear, now, might be the only human beings within some miles. Theoutlook was not an encouraging one.
"Say! Wow! Whoop! Blazes!" uttered Captain Jack, suddenly. "Now, Iremember Long-legs! Millard was the name he gave when he came to us, atDunhaven, last Fall. He was the chap who wanted to work on the submarineconstruction. Said he'd do any kind of work, but Grant Andrews put himin a separate shed, sorting and counting steel rivets, and never let himget near a submarine boat. That's the same fellow--Millard. Or, atleast, that was the name he gave them. But, when Millard found he wasn'tgoing to do anything but take care of rivets, he threw up the job fourdays after. He had pretended to be mighty hard up, too, and wanted workat any sort of wages."
Jack's face began to glow as he remembered more and more of the briefcareer of Millard at Dunhaven.
"And Dave Pollard, when he was over in Washington later, said he ranacross Millard living at the swell Arlington Hotel! Millard had adifferent name in Washington, and refused to recognize Mr. Pollard--saidthere was some mistake. By hookey! There isn't any mistake. Millardwas trying to steal submarine secrets at Dunhaven, and now he's tryingto map out harbor defenses in Craven Bay!"
Again Captain Jack glanced backward over his shoulder, but Millard wasno longer in sight.
"He knew me, probably, in a flash," muttered the submarine boy. "I'msorry I didn't recognize him sooner."
Having gotten his wind back, Jack broke into a run again. Just becauseMillard had dropped out of sight was no reason for taking chances of asudden swoop from the stranger.
For some five minutes Jack Benson jogged along. Then he came in sightof a little semicove. Here lay a small motor launch, whose skipper,somewhat of the fisherman type, was busily engaged with the engine.
"Say," hailed young Benson, running down to the water's edge, "can youstart your engine at once?"
"I reckon," nodded the fisherman, looking up.
"Run your bow in, so I can get aboard, then," directed Captain Jack,briskly. "I want to get over to where the Army tug is at work. Doyou know where that is--over to the southeast ward?"
"Yep," nodded the fisherman.
"I'll give you three dollars to take me over there in a hustle," proposedJack.
"You're easy enough," grinned the man in the boat, starting the engine,then lightly driving the bow of the boat upon the sand. "But you'll payme in advance."
"Certainly," nodded the submarine boy, taking out the money, as hestepped into the boat, and handing it over.
"Now, pick up that boathook, and shove off, and we'll start," added themaster of the little launch.
As Jack snatched up the boathook he caught, sight of Millard, threehundred yards away, just coming in sight on a run.
"You'd better get your engine going fast," warned Jack, "or that fellowheaded this way will make trouble for us both. He's carrying a gun."
The skipper took just one look at Millard, who was racing along, pistolin hand, and was prepared to believe his present passenger. That littlelaunch stole out of the cover under its reverse gear until the master ofthe craft thought himself far enough from shore for him to be out ofrange of Millard's weapon.
"Who is that feller?" asked the fisherman, when satisfied that he was ata safe distance and increasing it every instant.
"From the way he's dancing up and down, it looks as if he were crazy,"laughed Jack, coolly.
"What's his particular specialty in craziness?" asked the master of thelaunch, looking shrewdly at the submarine boy.
"Now, see here," protested Benson, good humoredly, "as I understand it,you're paid to take me over to the Army tug--not to ask questions. AmI right?"
"You're right," nodded the fisherman, then surveyed the boy's uniformcuriously.
"Your uniform looks like you was in the Navy?" suggested the man at thestern of the boat.
"Does it?" queried Jack.
"Are you in the Navy?" persisted the boat man.
"Just now, I'm serving with the Army," Captain Jack replied, evasively.
"Are you--" started in the human interrogation point, anew.
"See here," broke in the submarine boy, "I thought we agreed you had justone job to do for me, and that questions formed no part of it."
"That's right," agreed the fisherman. "But say, there's just onequestion I wish you'd answer me. Are you--"
"No!" interrupted Benson, decisively. "I am not. I never was."
"You didn't let me finish," complained the man.
"Wait until I'm out of the boat," proposed the submarine boy. "Then askall the questions you like. Maybe you're paid to ask questions, but I'mpaid to hold my mouth shut."
It wen
t a good deal against the submarine boy's grain to be so brusquewith an inquisitive stranger, but there seemed to be no other defense.
"Oh, well, if you're ashamed of your business--" retorted thefisherman, falling into a sullen silence.
This turn of affairs just suited Benson. He compressed his lips and satback, looking out across the bay at the tug, which was at work somethree miles away.
"Can you put on a little more speed?" inquired Jack.
"No," answered the fisherman, sulkily. "Doin' all the gait she'llkick now."
So Jack possessed his soul in patience until the wheezy little launchhad covered the whole distance.
While still some two hundred yards off Jack caught sight of MajorWoodruff coming out of the after cabin of the tug.
"Ahoy, Major!" yelled the submarine boy, holding his hands to his lips."Perhaps you'd better stop work until I've reported."
Then the launch ran in alongside, and Jack stepped up to the deck ofthe tug, holding tightly to the loot he had taken from Millard.
The master of the launch manifested a disposition to hang about in thenear vicinity, until curtly ordered away by Major Woodruff.
"I suppose you thought, Major, that I took a good deal upon myself inadvising you to suspend work," Jack hinted. "Yet I've something toshow you, and much to tell you. And I'm wagering an anchor to afish-hook that you'll be glad you stationed me over on that neck ofsand."
Major Woodruff led the way back into the cabin. There he examined thechart, with a start of astonishment.
"The fellow was marking down all our mine positions," came savagely frombetween the Army officer's teeth.
Then he picked up the book.
"A nice little assortment of notes on matters of military interest alongthis coast," muttered the soldier. "Your long-legged fellow has beenbusy at other points than Craven's Bay."
Then, closing the book with a snap, Major Woodruff looked keenly at thesubmarine boy as he remarked:
"Mr. Benson, I think our present submarine tests can be well suspended.We have a much more important task ahead of us--to catch this impudentthief of military secrets! And, in this undertaking, Benson, you can beof the greatest sort of help!"