"
"And when he goes out of sight--? asked the inventor, slowly.
"It will be high time to call him back. Somehow, Dave, I'm growing
uneasy over the boy. I can't help the feeling that he's running into
a good deal of danger that's likely to explode under him at any moment,
just as that mine was intended to last night."
"It makes one feel uncanny to be at Spruce Beach," growled the inventor,
savagely.
"Well, we can't run away," retorted Jacob Farnum, blandly.
"Why not, if we feel like it?"
The shipbuilder laughed.
"Why, Dave, a spirited lad like Jack Benson would be furious over
anything that looked like a retreat. He'd be savage. Now, Dave, we
can hardly afford to put such a slight on the boy who has had so much
to do with our success."
"I suppose not," grunted Mr. Pollard, settling back in his chair.
"The odd part of it," said Farnum, presently, "is, that while we're the
center of an international cyclone, so to speak, the rest of the folks
at Spruce Beach don't know a word about it. Look at the crowds of
folks around us who haven't even a breath of an idea of what has
happened, or is, likely to happen. Not a soul around here, except our
own few, have any idea that an attempt was made, last night, to blow up
that mysterious-looking little submarine craft riding at her moorings
out yonder.
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