“Why, boys, look at this!” cried Jimmie, his voice rising to a shriek then trailing off into a whisper. “Did you ever see the like?”

“Let’s see!” put in Frank, crowding forward. “What is it?”

Eagerly the boys gathered around the open compartment. They heard distinctly the tinkle of coins as Jimmie seized a handful and let them slip one by one back into place. Again and again the boy dived his hands into the yellow mass of metal. He raised handfuls of coin to look at them a moment, then let them drop from his grasp.

“Good Night!” he ejaculated at length, turning a round-eyed face to the man who stood smiling beside the group. “Why, you must have enough here to buy a farm and build a fence clear around it!”

“Quite likely I have!” declared the other quietly. “But there are two or three other wrecked vessels that I wish to visit before I stop. I have the exact locations charted and have examined the interiors.”

“Why didn’t you take the gold away with you, then?”

“For the very simple reason that I found one pair of hands not enough to perform the task. I could have taken the gold away from the sunken wrecks, but the matter of getting it ashore was another thing!”

“Why, what’s to prevent?” asked Ned wonderingly.

“Several things!” declared the other. “In the first place the peculiar phase of human nature that makes every man mad when he sees a lot of money would operate against my plan of taking the gold ashore. Who could I hire to move the heavy stuff with any assurance of their honesty if they once found out what might be in the packages?”

“That’s so!” admitted Ned thoughtfully. “Human nature is crooked!”

“My plan has been to find some one who needs the money and who would work on a percentage basis—share and share alike. We can then get the money ashore, negotiate the older coins that possess more than their face value, bank the current coins and be prepared to use the wealth exactly as we see fit. So long as it remains under water it is safe.”

“But I can’t understand how you get it aboard!” declared Jimmie.

“I have a tank of compressed air fixed to the back of a special diving suit,” explained the man. “There’s also a search light and a small storage battery provided. In this suit I step out through the air lock onto the wreck. The rest is easy. I return with the load of gold the same way I went out. The submarine is anchored. The whole thing is simple!”

“Sure enough!” exclaimed Jimmie. “Why didn’t I remember our arrangement on the Sea Lion? And then, too, we saw you walking about on the decks of the Wanderer! I guess I’m going daffy!”

“What do you say, boys, will you join the expedition?”

“We don’t stand much chance of getting home right away,” stated Ned. “I guess we might as well—” what he would say was cut short by the sound of a cannon shot booming through the gathering darkness.

“What’s that?” inquired Jack anxiously, jumping to his feet.

“I’ll bet it’s that bloomin’ steamer we saw!” cried Jimmie. “That must be another of those gun boats and they’re chasing us!”

“I’ll go up to the deck and see!” offered Ned.

“Be careful, don’t let them get you!” warned Jack.

“I’ll watch out for that,” laughed Ned, mounting the iron ladder.

Directly the little group at the foot of the ladder were startled to hear their companion’s voice. A note of anxiety vibrated through his words.

“Boys,” Ned cried, “there’s a gunboat out there, and I think I see another submarine. It looks to be like the ‘U-13’ for all the world. What shall we do?”

“Here,” urged Jimmie, “take the glasses and have a good look. If it is that Dutchman, I’m for beating it out of here mighty quick!”

For a tense moment Ned gazed through the glasses at the strange vessels. At length he lowered the binoculars and turned toward his companions. With a shake of his head and a quick indrawing of breath, he said:

“It’s the ‘U-13’ as sure as can be!”

“Let’s go!” was Jimmie’s only comment as he turned toward the switchboard with outstretched hand.

“I’m with you!” declared Ned, quickly descending the ladder to join the group. “Go ahead slow, though. Don’t break the hawser, or we’d lose the other vessel.”

“Perhaps we would do better to abandon your vessel,” Mackinder suggested as he prepared to go on deck. “Let me have the glasses, if you please. I’ll look them over.”

Jimmie paused, with his hand on the starting switch.

Suddenly all were startled by a cry from their host.

“Go ahead! go ahead!” he shouted down the hatchway. “That other fellow has launched a torpedo at us!”

“Let go the line, then!” urged Ned. “We’ll have to run for it! Full speed, Jimmie!” he added.

Mackinder was casting off the hawser with rapid motions. Jimmie, in response to Ned’s command, threw the switch over. The “U-13” began to gather headway.

All were startled to hear the report of a cannon shot. This was followed almost instantly by a shriek from the man on deck.

“Mackinder’s hit!” gasped Ned, turning a blanched face to his chums. “What shall we do?”

As if in answer to his query, the voice of Mackinder reached the ears of the lads.

“Bring an axe!” he shouted. “I’m fast in the bight!”

Wrenching an axe from its pocket on the bulkhead, Ned sprang up the ladder at his best speed. On deck he found Mackinder caught in a bight of the hawser by which the other vessel had been towed. His leg was jammed against the fairleader. Only one glance was required to show the boy that serious injury had been done.

Without waiting for words, the lad stepped to the side of the fallen man. Swinging his axe quickly, he struck at the taut bond of hemp. A shower of sparks followed the ringing thud of the axe upon the steel deck.

Mackinder dropped back upon the deck, limp and helpless, as the singing of the parted line told of his release.

With tender solicitude the boys mounted the ladder to assist their injured friend to the room below. Scarcely had the boys gained the deck when they were startled by a terrific explosion. As Ned afterward declared, it seemed as if they had been caught in a volcano of water.

“What has happened?” queried Jack, releasing his hold upon Mackinder.

A flood of sea water descending upon the little deck prevented an answer to his question. In a moment the lads were able to look about.

“Where’s our ‘U-13’?” asked Harry.

“Gone!” stated Ned, his voice trembling. “I’ll bet that German torpedoed it! I’m glad we are on this ‘U-13’!”

Echoing this sentiment, the lads hastily proceeded to lower Mackinder through the hatchway. This done, the injured man was deposited on a couch, the hatch was closed, and Ned began first-aid ministrations.

“What course shall I hold?” asked Jimmie.

“Better head on a southwest course,” stated Ned, briefly glancing up from his work over Mackinder’s leg.

“I can do that all right,” responded Jimmie. “The gunboat and the submarine can fight it out alone.”

“We’ve got a clear field, Jimmie, so shove the little wagon along for all she’s worth,” put in Jack.

Mackinder had been exercising wonderful command of himself, but in spite of his best efforts a groan now and again escaped. The injured leg was proving a painful matter.

“We’ll do all we can for you, Mackinder,” Ned offered, “but we need better skill than is available here. Would it not be best to make at once for some port where we can secure the services of a surgeon?”

Mackinder’s only reply was a nod. His teeth were closed tightly to suppress the cry of anguish from his hurt.

“Keep on the surface, boys,” urged Ned as he went about making the man comfortable with such simple means as were at hand. “I believe we are not far from the coast.”

Surrendering the wheel to Frank, and with Jack at the engines, Jimmie insisted upon mounting to the deck again to look about them.

Cool and sweet the air gushed down the little open hatchway upon the injured man. Under its influence and aided by the ministrations of Ned, the proprietor of the third “U-13” rapidly gained control of himself.

“Head west southwest,” he instructed Ned. “We’ll be mighty apt to find the mouth of the Thames on that course. There are many places I’d rather go, but you are right—we must have a surgeon!”

Giving the course to Harry, Ned proceeded to do everything in his power to ease the hurt of their friend.

“On deck, there!” announced Jimmie presently, his face at the hatchway.

“Hello!” answered Ned. “What is it?”

“I see a light about a point off the port bow!”

“What do you make it out to be?”

“I think it is a lighthouse!” declared Jimmie.

“Margate!” murmured Mackinder. “We are safe enough now, but be careful about the money, boys!”

“Sail ho!” rang out Jimmie’s voice again.

“What do you see now, Jimmie?” asked Ned anxiously, stepping to the foot of the ladder.

“There’s a small steamer coming up rapidly from the starboard side,” replied the lookout.

“Perhaps we’d better dive again,” suggested Ned.

“Aw, go on!” protested Jimmie. “What’s the use of diving every time anything comes along? We’re neutral!”

“We are, yes,” agreed Ned, “but this ‘U-13’ name is not neutral, and if the steamer is an English vessel they’ll probably not stop to ask questions.”

“Why not swing a white light at ’em, then?”

“That’s a good idea, too!” agreed Ned. “If they seem to be heading toward us, just get a white flag going.”

“They are not showing any light at all,” announced Jimmie. “They’re just sneaking along like an express train.”

“Let us know at once if anything happens,” Ned responded, turning back to his patient.

The boys had not long to wait.

Out of the gathering darkness Jimmie saw a burst of flame which lighted up a portion of the approaching steamer. A bright flash in a wave some distance in advance of the “U-13” next attracted his attention. The sharp roar of a cannon came to the ears of all.

“Are they shooting at us?” asked Ned, again approaching the ladder.

“Don’t know!” Jimmie replied briefly. “I saw the flash and heard the noise. There was a splash some distance ahead of us in the water. Maybe they can’t aim straight.”

Ned mounted the rungs of the ladder without further delay. He closed his eyes as he did so, the better to accommodate his vision to the change from the light below to the darkness outside. In a moment he was peering in the direction indicated by Jimmie.

“Can you make her out?”

“Yes,” replied Ned. “I can just see a sort of thick place in the darkness. My eyes will be all right soon.”

“I don’t believe they were shooting at us at all!” commented Jimmie, musingly. “They can’t see us!”

As if to disprove this statement, another flash lighted up the forward portion of the other vessel.

Ned grasped Jimmie’s arm and pointed straight ahead.

Skipping from wave to wave, throwing up a fountain of spray from each, the shot from the steamer plowed its way across the path of the “U-13,” passing so close that the boys were struck by the flying drops of water.

“That means that we are to stop!” declared Ned. “Next time they’ll shoot at us!”

“And hit us, too!” excitedly put in the other.

Without waiting for orders from Ned, the lad leaned over the coaming of the little hatch.

“Shut her off, Jack!” he cried. “Back on your engines. That guy thinks we are Germans!”

Jack at once complied with the request, and soon the “U-13” was gently rolling in the trough of the sea.

Frank sprang from the wheel to the ladder, mounting to the deck just as a beam of flame from a powerful searchlight aboard the steamer swept the “U-13” from end to end.

In the glare of the light the three boys stood plainly visible. They could not, however, distinguish the details of the other vessel because of the flaming eye regarding them with unwinking stare.

For a few moments they stood close to each other, uncertain what to do. At length a voice hailed them.

“Submarine, ahoy! What vessel is that?”

“Shall I tell them our name?” asked Ned anxiously.

“No,” urged Jimmie. “Don’t say ‘U-13’!”

“They’ve seen it on the side, anyhow!” scorned Frank.

“Don’t let them think we’re Germans. Don’t you see they’re English?” queried Jimmie.

“It doesn’t signify they’re English, even if they do speak the language,” returned Ned. “Can’t you answer?”

“Ahoy, there!” came an impatient voice.

“Steamer, ahoy!” replied Ned. “We’re a peaceful submarine manned by neutral noncombatants!”

“A likely yarn, indeed!” laughed the stranger. “Stand by to receive a boat. I shall send an officer aboard to investigate.”

“All right, Captain,” consented Ned. “Glad to meet you!”

Still standing under the unwinking eye of the searchlight, the little group waited expectantly for the arrival of the boarding party.

A splash of oars preceded the boat which soon shot out of the darkness.

In another moment an officer in uniform had mounted the little deck. Wonderingly he glanced about the group, now augmented by the arrival of Jack and Harry.

“Where is your commander?” he inquired somewhat stiffly, addressing no one in particular.

Indicating Ned, the boys silently waited.

“Are you in charge of this vessel?” asked the officer, with just a trace of amusement.

“I am and I am not,” replied Ned, with dignity.

“That’s very enlightening, I’m sure,” returned the other. “But time is short, and I must see the person who is in charge, and that at once.”

“The owner is lying in the cabin with a broken leg which he received as we were escaping from a German submarine,” explained Ned. “We boys are trying to get to some port where we can secure the services of a surgeon.”

“Oh,” exclaimed the officer, “escaping from a German?”

“Yes, sir. They torpedoed another submarine that we were towing, and in casting off the towing line the gentleman below was caught in the line. His leg is badly broken.”

“Who is this other person?”

“He gave us the name of Mackinder.”

A frown settled over the face of their questioner. Stepping forward, with flashing eyes he addressed Ned in a low voice vibrant with emotion.

“Now, if you have all the lies out of your system,” he gritted, “we’ll listen to the real story.”

“That is the real story!” protested Ned. “Step below, if you don’t believe me, and you may see for yourself.”

“We have already seen enough to discredit such a wild yarn as that!” declared the other. “Too many of our brave sailors have been killed and set adrift by the ‘U-13.’ Besides, the man you mention is certainly not in the cabin. I can swear to that. Now, will you tell me the truth?”

“I say, Mister,” put in Jimmie, “suppose you go fifty-fifty with us. Who are you, and what right have you to stop us?”

A short laugh was the man’s only answer. He turned to hail the vessel from which he had just come.

“Ahoy!” his hail rang out over the waters. “Send another boat aboard us. I will transfer the crew of this vessel!”

“Yes, you will!” scornfully replied Jimmie. “You’ll do a lot, you will. We have something to say about that!”

“I am more astonished than I can say,” the officer replied as he gazed at the lad. “I had supposed that Boy Scouts would not under any circumstances lend themselves to a project of an unworthy character.”

“Well, who has done all that?” bristled Jimmie, wrinkling a freckled nose at the man. “You’re taking a lot for granted, I must say! Who are you, anyhow?”

“You’ll find out quickly enough!” was the answer.

Turning at the sound of approaching oars, the officer quickly issued a few short commands.

In obedience to his orders, the boys were required to enter the small boat without even an opportunity of going below.

“Dodson,” ordered the officer, “take a couple of men and search the vessel for others. We were informed there were but five, but they may have confederates.”

Wonderingly the lads sat in the boat as they were rowed across the intervening distance to the steamer. Scarcely had they set foot on deck before a line was passed to the submarine and the vessel was under way, towing their recent habitation.

An orderly conducted the lads directly to the cabin, where they were greeted by an officer seated at the head of a table. He arose as they entered and extended a hand to each.

Motioning to seats, the officer again busied himself with some papers on the table. For some time the boys glanced expectantly at each other, waiting for the officer to open the anticipated conversation.

Impatiently the boys waited, listening to the regular throbbing of the steamer’s propellers that told they were again under way.

At length the silence was broken by the arrival of an orderly. Saluting, he reported briefly to the officer. A nod dismissed him.

“Boys,” began the officer in a kindly tone, “we find ourselves rather puzzled by some mysterious circumstances which we hope you can explain. Will you assist us?”

“I assume from the looks of things aboard that you are English,” answered Ned. “Am I correct?”

“You are. This is a scout vessel doing patrol duty along the coast. In common with others, we have been on the sharp lookout for a submarine named ‘U-13,’ which has been doing considerable damage to our shipping. We capture it without difficulty, to find it manned by Boy Scouts instead of Germans, as we had expected. Can you explain that?”

“Yes!” laughed Ned. “That is easy. The boat you have captured is owned by a private individual named Mackinder, who has been amusing himself in a perfectly innocent pastime. He, like ourselves, is neutral, but unfortunately has gotten into rather compromising situations.”

“Mackinder?” repeated the officer, wonderingly.

“Yes, sir,” continued Ned. “He rescued us from our disabled submarine. He is now aboard his vessel with a broken leg.”

“We had him brought aboard this vessel, and find that his leg is really broken,” explained the officer. “But,” he continued, “you have not quite explained your presence on a submarine.”

“That is easy—” began Ned. He was interrupted by a sign from the officer.

“Just a moment,” the other said. “We will have Mackinder in here, and perhaps he can explain a little of the mystery himself.”

At a command from the man two orderlies approached. In a few moments the boys observed four sailors bearing a mattress upon which lay their late host.

At the same moment a group approached from the after part of the cabin. Glancing from one group to the other, the boys rose to their feet with exclamations of surprise.

“Well, Great Frozen Hot Boxes!” cried Jimmie. “How did you get here, Mackinder?”

A man from the small group behind the officer stepped forward, smiling.

“I was picked up by the fishing boat you probably saw when I swam away from the submarine you captured. They transferred me to this craft. We have since been looking for you.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you, anyway,” returned the lad. “But you couldn’t prevent our leaving Holland, even if you did try good and hard. Have you found that package yet?”

The smile quickly faded from the face of the other.

“No, I haven’t,” he answered in a low voice. “I find that you boys have gotten me into a lot of trouble, too.”

“Trouble?” puzzled Ned. “How have we done that?”

“By secreting that package,” explained Mackinder. “You see, I was detailed to duty on the Holland frontier. When I saw that package, and knew that you had recently come from the German lines, I assumed, of course, that it contained information for the German submarine that has been causing so much havoc amongst the English shipping. Without waiting for orders, I tried to follow you and gain possession of the object. Now it seems I am disobeying regulations by absenting myself from my post of duty without leave. Further, I was seen aboard or coming from a German vessel. Hence circumstances look bad for me. I’m due for a court martial as soon as we land at Margate, which must be close aboard by now.”

All were startled to hear a groan escape the man lying upon the mattress. He had raised himself upon one elbow.

“Oh, Robert!” he cried. “Not that!”

“Tom!” gasped Mackinder. Soon the two men were shaking hands at a great rate, tears in their eyes.

“Boys,” Mackinder announced at length, “I must introduce my brother Tom.”

“We have had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman,” stated Ned. “In fact, we owe our lives to his kindness.”

“But, see here,” demanded Jimmie, stepping forward, “this needs an explanation. Which one of you fellows was at the little cabin on the Holland border?”

Tom Mackinder smiled, in spite of the pain of his crushed leg. He turned his glance toward his brother, whose hand he held.

“We both were there, Jimmie,” he said. “I took the package from the window. You see,” he continued, “it contained plans of my submarine, with which you are familiar. I tried to sell the plans to Germany, but found they had beaten me. So upon my return trip I slipped the package into your baggage, thinking to escape search and detention at the border. I have it here now.”

As he ceased speaking he drew from his pocket the same flat package the boys had seen before.

“Hurrah!” cried Jimmie. “Now we can explain how your brother came to be captured by the Germans, and how under his direction we stole the other ‘U-13’ and escaped from Helgoland.”

“If what you say is true, young man,” put in the officer, “the anticipated court martial may never convene.”

“We can prove it!” protested Jimmie vigorously.

“Then we have solved the Mystery of the ‘U-13’!” declared the officer, with evident relief.

“And now we’ll head for the little old U. S. A. and peaceful neutrality!” was Jimmie’s joyful comment.

“But you’ll first arrange to care for your share of the cargo aboard my boat,” interposed the injured Mackinder.

He would not entertain any of the objections raised by the boys, but insisted that they share in the treasure which had been recovered from the ocean’s grasp.

A few days later as the boys watched the chalk cliffs of Dover slip away into the eastern horizon Jimmie turned from the rail of the steamer upon which they had taken passage.

“Good by, England, and good by the Mackinders,” he said. “I’m glad we are out of the war zone at last and that we solved the Mystery of the ‘U-13’.”

Just the type of books that delight and fascinate the wide awake girls of the present day who are between the ages of eight and fourteen years. The great author of these books regards them as the best products of her pen. Printed from large clear type on a superior quality of paper; attractive multi-color jacket wrapper around each book. Bound in cloth.

Only the most popular of children’s books are included in this series. Each title is complete and unabridged. Printed from large, clear type. Each wrapped in a colored jacket.

The author knows these subjects from a practical standpoint. Each book is printed from new plates on a good quality of paper and bound in cloth. Each book wrapped in a jacket printed in colors.

These books teach the use of tools; how to sharpen them; to design and layout work. Printed from new plates and bound in cloth. Profusely illustrated. Each book is wrapped in a printed jacket.

Just the type of books that delight and fascinate the wide awake boys of today. Clean, wholesome and interesting; full of mystery and adventure. Each title is complete and unabridged. Printed on a good quality of paper from large, clear type and bound in cloth. Each book is wrapped in a special multi-colored jacket.

A desirable assortment of boys’ books. All books in this series are copyrighted. Printed on a good quality of paper from large clear type. Cloth bound. Jacket printed in colors.

A select assortment of books by Horatio Alger, Jr. Printed on a good quality of paper and bound in cloth. Each book wrapped in a decorative jacket printed in colors.