Rival ocean divers

A STRANGE HOTEL ADVENTURE

"Father, I have news for you!" cried Dave Fearless, as he rushed into the cottage all out of breath.

"What now, Dave?"

"The Hankers have left Quanatack and gone to San Francisco."

"Impossible!"

"It's true. They took the train for New York, and Sam Dilks overheard Bart ask his father what the tickets to San Francisco would cost."

"That looks bad."

"And that isn't the worst of it. Sam also overheard them talking about the San Francisco Wrecking Company and heard Mr. Hankers say he felt sure he could get the vessel without delay."

"Then they must be after the sunken treasure beyond a doubt, Dave." Amos Fearless gave a slight groan. "They'll get the start of us after all!"

"How about that job for us on the Swallow?"

"I have heard nothing new."

"If I were you I'd send a long letter to Captain Broadbeam and let him know just how we stand."

"I will do it."

The letter was sent that night, and then the Fearlesses waited anxiously for a reply.

Two days later came a telegram from Washington. It was from their old friend the captain and ran as follows:

"Hurrah! We're in it after all!" shouted Dave, flinging up his cap, and he danced a jig for joy. "Now for the Pacific Ocean and the missing fortune!"

Father and son had prepared everything for a start from home, and that evening saw them on the way to Washington. They spent the night in New York, and reported at the Capital City at noon the next day.

"Glad to see you," said Captain Broadbeam, shaking both by the hand. "Come over to my hotel and we'll talk matters over." He was a round-faced, jolly old sea-dog, and nobody could help liking him.

At the hotel the captain was let into the secret of the sunken treasure, in which he immediately took a deep interest. When Lemuel Hankers was mentioned he scowled.

"He is my enemy," he said. "He tried to get me out of my position so that some captain friend of his could have the berth. I'd be glad to knock the wind out o' his sails, consarn him!"

"Where is the Swallow now?"

"At San Francisco, all ready to sail."

"And when shall we go West?"

"Day after to-morrow, and you can go along with me."

A long talk followed, during which Amos Fearless asked about a diving bell.

"Yes, we have the very latest pattern on board of the Swallow," answered Captain Broadbeam, "and we shall also take along the very best of diving outfits, deep-sea sounders, and drag-nets—better even than those on the Albatross."

"Then we'll be fixed to go right ahead," said Mr. Fearless. "But we must get ahead of Lemuel Hankers and his son."

"Trust me to do that, Fearless. But when it comes to going down to a wreck as lies two miles under the surface o' the ocean, why, you and Dave will have to do that part o' the job."

"And we will," put in Dave, quickly. "I know it is a gigantic undertaking, but with the proper outfits, I feel convinced that we will get there sure!" and he shook his head confidently.

In secret Amos Fearless promised Captain Broadbeam twenty-five per cent. of any sum recovered from the wreck, providing the government would allow the officer to accept the amount.

It was not until late that night that the party separated and Dave and his father retired to a room in another part of the hotel.

When they left Captain Broadbeam, a man in a room next to the captain's got up from his knees, for he had been down listening at the keyhole of a door which connected the two apartments.

This fellow was named Pete Rackley, and he was in Lemuel Hankers' employ.

"I'm onto their game right enough," muttered Rackley to himself. "So they are going to outwit my boss? Well, I reckon not."

Before going to bed that night, Pete Rackley wrote a long letter to Lemuel Hankers, telling the rich man of what he had heard.

He felt that he must keep Dave and his father from going West to join the Swallow, no matter what the cost.

So he at once laid a plan to have Dave arrested for supposed pocket-picking.

The next morning he met Dave in the reading room, where he had gone to glance over the newspapers.

Unknown to Dave he approached the lad and dropped into his coat pocket a pocket-book containing ten dollars and a visiting card upon which was written his name, Peter Rackley.

Then he walked out into the hallway to the door of the hotel, stopped suddenly, and gave a cry:

"My pocket-book! It is gone!"

"What's that, sir?" demanded the hotel clerk, who happened to be passing.

"My pocket-book is gone! It must have been stolen from me!"

"Did it have much in it?"

"Ten dollars or more."

"Perhaps you dropped it, sir."

"Hardly. I had it quarter of an hour ago, when I was in the reading room. Ha, I have it! That young man took it from me." And Pete Rackley started back to the reading room.

"What young man?"

"The fellow who brushed up so close to me at the table. There he is!" Rackley ran up to Dave and caught him by the shoulder. "You thief!" he ejaculated. "Give me back my money!"

Of course Dave was taken completely by surprise.

"Your money?" he repeated. "I know nothing of your money."

"You must have it. Sir, will you have him searched?" went on Pete Rackley to the clerk.

"Certainly, he can search me if he wishes," said Dave, promptly. "I am no thief."

A few more words followed, and the clerk began to search Dave. Soon the pocket-book was brought to light, much to Dave's astonishment and dismay.

"Ha! what did I tell you!" ejaculated Pete Rackley. "Call an officer at once. I want this young rascal arrested on the spot!" and he caught hold of Dave again, that the youth might not escape.