CHAPTER XII.

A WARY FOE.

Matt reached the beach without mishap. Beyond the white stretch of sand grew a chaparral of bushes and low trees, covering the slope which ended at a ridge forming the backbone of the point to the southward.

The young motorist took his way in this direction, halting at the edge of the brush for a moment to turn and give a reassuring wave to his comrades on the Grampus.

Carl was just securing the end of a rope to the iron ring at the stern of the boat, Glennie was half inside the conning tower, and Dick had the rifle across his knees. All three answered Matt's parting salute, and he faced about and hurried into the chaparral.

Matt's course carried him up the side of the ridge. Once at the crest he would be able to look down on the Japs and take note of their operations. He would thus be able to determine whether the bold scheme which he had at the back of his brain would be feasible or not.

The crest of the ridge was not more than fifty feet above sea level, and the king of the motor boys was not long in reaching it. There, screened by a thicket of bushes, he was able to look down on the other cove, and make a leisurely examination of the Pom and the Japs.

The Pom, as Dick had said, was lying within a short distance of the shore. She was an odd-looking craft, being of a much smaller diameter than the Grampus, and having a flat deck built over the rounded plates of her hull. The conning tower was only about half the height and diameter of that of the Grampus, and seemed to have a solid top without any hatch opening. The hatch was forward, on the flat deck, and the cover was pushed back.

From the submarine, Matt's eyes wandered to the shelving beach.

The torpedo was there, rolled up beyond the reach of the lapping waves, and two of the Japs were busy about the conical end of the tube. Matt chuckled as he thought of how he had tampered with the firing pin. Before they could make the pin serviceable, the Japs would have to rig another of the little propellers; and, while their ingenuity was no doubt equal to the job, yet it would take time to finish it.

The two men who were at work were clad only in their trousers, and had clearly reached the shore as Matt had done, by swimming. They went about their work steadily and with an application which indicated that they had little attention for anything else.

From their manner, it seemed a fair inference that the rifle shot, or Dick's yell, from the other side of the point, had failed to reach them.

But where were the other two Japs? Had they returned to the Pom?

It might be that the two on the beach were in need of more tools and had sent the others out to the boat after them.

Matt, thinking of his plans, measured the distance from the end of the point to the Pom.

"The Grampus can do it!" he muttered, with an undernote of exultation throbbing in his voice. "A quick dash, and then a hustle seaward—and the trick is done. But those other two Japs—I wish they would leave the boat and come ashore. They form the danger point in the carrying out of the scheme."

There was something else Matt noticed as he peered out from behind his thicket, and that was that two rifles lay on the sand within easy reach of the Jap mechanics.

"Those guns are another danger point," he said to himself. "The Pom, however, will be between the Grampus and the beach, and will act as a sort of barricade. Anyhow, nothing venture, nothing win."

For five minutes longer Matt waited, watching for the other two Japs to reappear through the Pom's hatch. But they did not come, and he felt that he could wait no longer.

Arising from his crouching position, he turned to retrace his course down the hill. He had not taken a dozen steps, however, when, dodging around a clump of bushes, he came face to face with the two missing Japs!

From the actions of the two men, it was plain that they were as much surprised as was Motor Matt.

The cause of this unexpected meeting flashed through Matt's brain like lightning.

The rifle shot had been heard, and these two Japs had been told to cross the ridge and investigate. Matt had gained the shore before the Japs had cleared the bushes and were able to see him. As they descended the slope, he was going up, and fortune had decreed that they give each other a wide berth. But fortune had taken another tack, for she was now bringing Matt and the Japs altogether too close to each other for comfort.

These Japs, like the two at work on the torpedo, were stripped of all unnecessary clothing; and, fortunately for the young motorist, they carried no weapons.

For an instant Matt and the two yellow men stared at each other; then the Japs gave vent to a yell, and prepared to keep Matt from continuing on down the hill.

Matt, remembering the two rifles he had seen on the beach, had no intention of waiting for the other two Japs to reach the scene. He saw the men before him preparing to lay him by the heels in the most approved ju-jutsu style, but that did not keep him back.

He leaped forward, apparently aiming to pass directly between the two men. They jumped to get in his way, whereupon he dodged to the right.

But, if he was quick, so were the Japs. No sooner had he changed his course than they also had faced the new direction.

As Matt went flying down the hill, one of them made a dive for him. The king of the motor boys struck out with his right fist—and he had a "right" about which Carl Pretzel was wont to sing praises.

The fist accomplished its work, so far as that one Jap was concerned. A sharp breath was jolted from the yellow man and the hands he had put out dropped limply, the while his whole body slumped backward.

But something happened to Matt, just what he had not the least idea. All he knew was that he was lifted high and sent crashing headfirst into a thicket of bushes.

The second Jap had put into practice one of the wrestling tricks he had learned in Nippon.

Matt, however, was not sorry he had been thrown in that unceremonious fashion, for, just as he dropped into the bushes, the sodden whang of a rifle spoke from the crest of the ridge and a bullet flew whining over the very spot where he had been running.

The other two Japs had lost little time in coming to the aid of their comrades.

Matt was up almost as soon as he was down. His superb physical training rendered him proof against any such fall as that he had just received.

Both Japs were reaching for him as he ducked clear of the bushes, but he slipped out from under their gripping fingers and flashed down the slope like a streak, screening his flight with every particle of tangled undergrowth that got in his way.

The rifles behind him continued to cough and splutter. The unarmed Japs, however, were between Matt and the marksmen, and the care the latter had to use sent their bullets wide.

The Japs were no match for Matt when it came to sprinting. Matt had learned the game from a half-breed friend, the best "miler" in Arizona, and he now showed the Japs how an American boy can run when he has his heart in it.

Before the yellow men had cleared the fringe of bushes at the edge of the beach, Motor Matt was in the water; and when the Japs emerged, Dick plowed up the ground at their feet with bullets from the Marlin, and drove them back.

Matt could not have swum faster if there had been a whole school of sharks after him, but before he got to the Grampus lead from the shore was pounding a merry tattoo against the submarine's steel plates. Dick, exposing himself recklessly, was answering with the Marlin. Neither side was damaging the other, but the firing spurred Matt to superhuman exertions.

When the young motorist reached the boat, Carl ducked out from behind the conning tower and gave him a hand up the slope of the deck.

"Now's the time," panted Matt, falling at full length across the curved plates. "Start her—full speed."

"Where are we to go?" demanded Glennie.

"Around the point and take the Pom in tow," Matt answered. "All four of the Japs are ashore, in this cove. Before they can cross the ridge and interfere with us, we ought to be able to pick up the other submarine and make off with her. Look alive, now! We can't turn the trick if you don't hustle."

The daring nature of Matt's scheme dawned on the lads with something like a shock. And it appealed to them, too! It was just such a scheme as they might have expected Motor Matt to set going.

"Hoop-a-la!" jubilated Carl, as Glennie punched the motor-room jingler. "Vat do you t'ink oof dot? Modor Matt goes ashore mit himseluf und coaxes der Chaps to shace him mit rifles, schust to ged dem oudt oof der vay so ve can shteal pack der Pom. Vat a feller he iss!"

"You're giving me altogether too much credit, Carl," expostulated Matt. "I ran onto those Japs by accident, and would have gone a good ways to keep clear of them."

"Vell, vat's der odds aboudt der tifference? Der modor poys iss on dop und——"

A bullet from the shore slapped against the side of the conning tower and whistled off into space, passing so close to Carl's head in its flight that he stopped his glorying and fell flat on the deck.

"They'll not stay long on the beach there when they see where we're going," remarked Matt grimly.

"They've stopped their firing now, old ship," cried Dick, "and are rushing back into the bushes as fast as they can scramble."

"It has probably dawned upon them that we're planning to run off with the Pom," said Matt. "Quick work, now, and we'll win the day, and cut these Sons of the Rising Sun out of our future calculations."

The propeller was churning the waters like mad, and Glennie was laying a safe course to round the point and bring the Grampus close to the Pom.

CHAPTER XIII.

PLUCK THAT WINS.

By the time that the Grampus got around the point and was plunging onward, with "a bone in her teeth," straight for the Pom, Matt had recovered his breath and was ready to play his part in the rest of the work.

"Make a circle around the stern of the Pom, Glennie," said Matt, peering shoreward to see if there were any signs of the Japs coming down the south side of the ridge. "That will give Dick a chance to jump to the deck of the other craft."

"I'll do it, Matt," replied Glennie.

"Give me the rifle, Dick," went on Matt, "and you lay hold of the end of the rope Carl has secured to the ring. As soon as you get on the other boat, make the rope fast."

"Ay, ay, matey!" cried Dick, elation ringing in his voice and his eyes glimmering with excitement. "We'll make a go of this, now that you have planned the scheme and done the heft of the work in getting it started."

"There may still be a whole lot of trouble and hard work between us and success. Let's not be too confident. Ah," and Matt pointed toward the side of the ridge, "there come the Japs. They're running even faster than they did when they were after me. We're going to have a tight squeak of it, Glennie, to double the stern of the Pom, get Dick aboard and pull away with our tow before the Japs get into the water."

"It's their guns I'm thinking of," said Glennie. "If they happen to pick me out of the conning tower, or to knock Dick off the deck of the Pom, the fat would all be in the fire."

"They'll not do either of those things, matey," averred Dick confidently. "It's our innings, now, and we're bound to score."

The Grampus raced on, and down the slope rushed the Japs in a frantic endeavor to reach the water and gain the Pom before the venturesome motor boys could carry out their plans.

No shots were fired by the Japs. This seemed strange, since a well-placed bullet would have meant so much to them.

"What's the reason they're not tuning up, matey?" asked Dick.

"Dey hafen't got der time for dot," chuckled Carl. "Dey're in too mooch oof of a hurry, py shinks."

"They could put a couple of bullets where they would play hob with us," went on Dick, "and they must know it."

"They do know it," said Matt. "There are four of the Japs, and only two guns. I rather surmise that they have used up all the ammunition in the magazines of the rifles, and that their reserve supply is on the Pom."

Just at that moment Glennie swerved the Grampus to pass between the stern of the Pom and the shore.

"Ready, Dick!" warned Matt.

"Right-o," answered Dick, seizing one end of the cable and balancing himself on the port side of the Grampus. "Swing her as close as you can, Glennie," he added to the ensign.

Supporting himself by clinging to a wire guy with one hand, Dick waited. Glennie signaled the engine room for slower speed, and the Grampus rounded neatly and pushed her nose past the tower of the other boat.

"There you are, Dick!" cried Matt.

The next instant Dick had leaped across the intervening stretch of water and had landed on the flat deck of the Pom.

Before his feet had struck the deck, however, Matt saw a Jap's head and shoulders push upward through the Pom's hatch. If there had been time to feel anything so useless as surprise, Matt would certainly have been taken all aback.

Captain Pons had said that only five Japs had comprised the crew which had palmed themselves off as Chilians. One of these five had been left in Lota, a prisoner. According to Matt's reckoning, that left only four of the yellow men in charge of the Pom. Where, then, did this extra Jap come in?

Matt did not pause to let this drift through his mind. Making a short run across the Grampus, he flung himself after Dick, reaching the flat deck of the other submarine and only saving himself a fall over the opposite side of the craft by dropping to his knees.

Hardly had he landed when a pair of heavy feet clanged down behind him and a form collided roughly with his back. Once more Matt came within a hair's breadth of dropping off the port side of the Pom.

"Py shinks," puffed a choppy voice, "you don'd vas going to leaf me pehindt! Dere iss more Chaps on dis poat as we knowed aboudt, und——"

Carl's sentence was never finished. The Jap Matt had seen in the open hatch had gained the deck and had rushed at Carl like a whirlwind. Another showed himself, following close upon the heels of the first.

"Make the rope fast, Dick!" roared Matt. "Carl and I will look after these fellows."

Dick went down on his knees and began securing the rope. It was necessary to make it fast before the slack was all taken up, otherwise the tow line would have been jerked out of Dick's hands and the work would have had to be done all over again.

Matt caught the second Jap about the waist as he crawled through the hatch. There was a brief struggle, and it ended by Matt heaving the Jap over the side and into the water. The other Jap had performed a like service for Carl, and the Dutch boy, blowing like a porpoise, was floating around in the bay, trying to get hold of something and pull himself back on the deck.

The Jap started at once for Matt. Before he reached him, Dick, who had made fast the line, rushed him from the rear and literally bore him off the boat. He dropped into the water alongside his comrade.

"Help Carl aboard, Dick!" called Matt.

Dick bent over and gave Carl a hand. Just at that moment the boat leaped forward under the sudden pull of the Grampus.

But here, just as victory was all but ranged on the side of the motor boys, the unexpected happened.

Perhaps Glennie was to blame. It would have been better if he had slowed the Grampus down almost to a stop and then picked up the strain on the tow line with a steady pull.

It was useless, however, to find fault with anybody. The thing happened, and that was all there was to it.

The tow line snapped. One end of it jerked back and caught Matt a tremendous blow on the temple, and he dropped as though from the impact of a heavy fist.

A howl of consternation broke from Carl.

"Id's all oop mit us!" he shouted. "Der rope iss pusted in der mittle, Matt is down, und der Chaps iss all aroundt us!"

Carl's quick eyes had sized up the situation correctly. The four Japs who had crossed the ridge from the other cove had reached the water and were swimming to the Pom. The two who had been forced overboard by Matt and his chums were paddling about and making frantic efforts to regain the deck.

Dick had not much time to think of what they should do. With Matt down, could he and Carl successfully beat off the six yellow men?

Dick flung a despairing glance after the Grampus. Glennie, wild with anxiety over the outcome of what seemed a certain fiasco, was ringing all kinds of signals in the motor room, and, for once in his life, seemed completely "rattled" and at a loss as to what move he should make.

At that moment an idea darted into Dick's brain.

"Keep away, Glennie!" Dick yelled, waving his hands. "Sheer off to a good distance, and wait! Carl," and he whirled on the Dutch boy with fierce determination, "we'll take Matt below. We can close ourselves inside the steel shell and the Japs won't be able to get at us."

"Meppy dere's more Chaps in der poat!" demurred Carl.

"No!" thundered Dick. "Do you suppose they'd stay below while this scrimmage was going on over their heads? Down the hatch with you, and take Matt as I lower him!"

Carl saw that there was nothing else for it, and made haste to carry out his orders. The floor was less than five feet under the deck, and Carl was able to stand erect and take Matt in his arms as Dick let him down. The Japs were gaining the deck from all sides as Dick followed, and the hatch cover was banged shut and made fast just in the nick of time.

"Ach, du lieber!" muttered Carl, listening to the patter of bare feet on the plates overhead. "Vat a fix iss dis. Der Chaps haf got us, und dey ain'd got us; und ve haf got dem in der same vay. Ve can't ged oudt, und dey can't ged in. Vat's der answer?"

"A little light, first," said Dick coolly. "Don't let the Japs worry you—there's a stout steel armor between us and them. It's as black as a pocket in here, now that the hatch is closed. Have you got a match?"

It took Carl several moments to dig a match out of his blouse. He had one, just one, and it was a wonder he had even that. No one had any use for matches aboard the Grampus.

Carl drew the match along the steel floor. As the flickering gleam grew stronger, he and Dick took in the dimensions of that part of their prison.

The floor apparently divided the interior of the steel hull in half, the rounded plates of the hull meeting it on both sides. A bulkhead cut off the view aft.

"You rub Matt's forehead and hands and see if you can't fetch him to," said Dick. "I'm going aft to see what's on the other side of that bulkhead."

"Der match iss gone!" muttered Carl, dropping the charred stick.

"I've located the bulkhead door, so it doesn't much matter," answered Dick.

The opening of the door brought in a little daylight. The door led out under the conning tower, and the light came through the tower lunettes.

Dick, straightening up, shoved his head and shoulders into the tower. On all sides Jap eyes were glaring in at him.

"Ugh!" he muttered, and dropped down again.

CHAPTER XIV.

A LITTLE WORK ON THE INSIDE.

When Matt drifted back to consciousness, his head lay on Carl's knee. Carl and Dick had dragged him out under the conning tower, where the light was better.

"Where are we?" were Matt's first words.

"In the Pom, matey," was Dick's grim response.

"Ve can't ged oudt, eider, Matt," croaked Carl gloomily, "und der Chaps can't ged in. Vich vould you radder be, der Chaps or us?"

Matt sat up, rubbing his head.

"I remember now," he murmured. "The tow line broke, and the Pom end of it sprang back and hit me on the forehead. You brought me below?"

"I couldn't think of anything else to do, matey," said Dick. "We were surrounded by six Japs, and I thought it better to take our chances inside. We got below and closed the hatch just in time. Listen! You can hear the Japs walking around on deck. If you get up in the tower you can see them looking in at the lunettes! But it's not pleasant. The straightened eyes of those swabs are pretty savage. I wouldn't give tuppence for our chances if they could get at us. And they may find out a way to come in here. If you can think of anything to do that will help us out of this hole, Matt, please be in a hurry about it."

"Yah," put in Carl, "don'd vaste any time."

"Where's the Grampus?" asked Matt.

His head bothered him, but there was no time to think of physical troubles of that sort.

"I told Glennie to keep her away. There wasn't anything he could do by running close, anyhow. The Japs would have boarded the Grampus, if he had come too close, and there would be only four on our boat to stand off the six Japs."

"Oh, well," remarked Matt, looking around, "this might be worse."

"How?" moaned Carl. "I don'd see dot."

Matt's interest in the Pom, now that he was able to give the boat a personal examination, bade fair to eclipse his concern for the dangers by which he was surrounded. Here was a brand-new piece of mechanism, a boat crammed with French machinery that would well repay a close study.

A rigid box under the conning tower, enabled a man to lift the upper half of his body into the cupola and get his eyes opposite the lunettes. As the man stood there, his right hand fell naturally on a steering wheel and his left on push buttons which must communicate with the engine room.

"This is a whole lot different from the interior of the Grampus," muttered Matt.

"Id is so shmall as a rat drap," shuddered Carl. "I feel like I vas shut oop in a cage."

Matt, pushing backward from the turret, fell off a ledge into a sort of well. As he sat up and groped about with his hands, he touched a switch. Pulling the switch, an incandescent lamp flared out overhead.

"That's better," said he. "Now we can look around without so much trouble."

Here, aft from the conning tower, machinery was packed away closely.

Up against the roof, on the port side, was a little engine, operated by compressed air, by which the submarine was steered. Matt discovered that by observing the wires that ran to the engine from the steering wheel.

On the starboard side, likewise against the roof, was another engine, with disks at each end as large as dinner plates.

"H'm," mused Matt, trying to rub the ache out of his head so his brain would be clearer, "those disks are diaphragms, and must be connected, in some way, with the water pressure. I have it!" and a triumphant look crossed his face, "this is the diving engine, and that wheel"—he touched the wheel as he spoke—"controls it."

At one side was a cubic steel box.

"Air compressor," said Matt, touching the box.

On the floor, just where Matt had dropped into the well, were two levers. Matt lifted one of them. Instantly there came a gurgle and splash of water, directly under Carl and Dick.

"Avast, matey!" cried Dick. "I wouldn't fool with those things until you know more about them."

Muffled cries came from the Japs outside.

"They hear what's going on," laughed Matt, "and they don't like it. We're filling the submerging tanks, Dick," he explained.

"Then why don't we sink?"

"It takes the engine to help us sink—the diving engine and the motor."

Farther back beyond the well was the engine room.

"Here's where I'm at home," said Matt, creeping into the engine room and turning on another incandescent light.

In one side were switchboards for the dynamotors, and near them were spiral resistance coils curving along the roof. Over on the other side was a trolley controller, which Matt knew must be used for speeding the vessel under water.

"Give the wheel of that diving engine a turn to the right, Dick," called Matt.

Dick obeyed the order. Matt turned the switch of the controller and then instantly there was a low, electrical hum and the Pom started toward the bottom.

"Get on the box under the conning tower, Dick," said Matt, "and do the steering."

"How'll I steer? There's no periscope."

"Steer by compass—there's one right in front of you as you stand in the tower."

"But what'll I do for light? We're under water and no daylight comes in at the lunettes."

Matt touched a switch, and electric light flooded the tower.

"I don't like this tinkering, I'm a Fiji if I do," muttered Dick, as he crawled up into the tower.

"We've got rid of the Japs by the tinkering, Dick," said Matt. "They're swimming ashore by now."

"What I'm afraid of is," went on Dick, "you'll get us on the bottom and not be able to take us to the surface again."

"Don't let that worry you. If we want to go to the surface, all we have to do is to twist the diving rudders and empty the tanks."

"What's the course, matey?" asked Dick.

"West by north until we clear the point, then north."

"How am I to know when we clear the point?"

"Why, we'll go to the surface and take a look. Glennie will probably be glad to have a sight of us before long."

"I'll bet he's worrying his head off! The quicker we can go up, Matt, the better."

"All right. Carl!"

"On der chump!" answered the Dutch boy.

"Give the wheel of the diving engine a turn to the left—to the left, mind."

"Dere she goes."

Instantly there was a perceptible movement upward.

"Now," went on Matt, "lift that other lever on the floor near you—the one I didn't lift, if you can remember."

Carl lifted the lever, and, by chance, the right one. A hiss of compressed air was heard, followed by a splash of water being forced from the ballast tanks. The Pom jumped for the surface like a streak.

"Daylight at the lunettes!" shouted Dick, overjoyed to make sure that Matt really knew what he was about. "All you've got to do to know all about a piece of machinery, Matt," he added, "is just to look at it."

"And use my head," laughed Matt.

"Py shinks," boomed Carl, "you can do more mit a cracked head dan any odder feller can do mit vone dot's all ridght. Yah, so helup me. You know more aboudt machinery in a year as anypody else does in a minid."

"See anything of the Japs, Dick?" inquired Matt, stopping the electric motor.

"Not a sign!" exulted Dick. "But there's the old Grampus, with Speake on deck and Glennie half out of the tower. Their eyes are this way, and you'd think, from their faces, they're looking at a ghost."

"Dey can't oondershtand how ve got oudt oof dot schrape," said Carl. "Ve hat some pooty pad brospects, for a vile, you bed you."

"Holy smoke!" exclaimed Dick, almost falling off the box he was standing on.

"What's the matter?"

"Why, there's our old friend, the cruiser Salvadore, with—with—— 'Pon my soul, Matt, I'm a Fiji if that Captain Pons isn't on the bridge with Captain Sandoval!"

This was amazing news.

"The war ship must have just got here, then," said Matt.

"But how did she know where we were?"

"Probably she spoke the Sovereign," Matt answered. "That would have given Sandoval a pretty good clue."

"Oh, strike me lucky! The Salvadore is turning broadside on, and some of her crew are manning the small guns—the rapid-fire guns. They're going to blow us out of water, Matt!"

"Hardly that, Dick," said Matt easily. "Sandoval isn't going to destroy this submarine. Pons wouldn't let him, even if he had such a notion. If anything happened to the boat, Pons wouldn't be able to deliver her to the Chilian government."

"They're mighty warlike, anyway," went on Dick. "And there's Glennie, on the Grampus, trying his best to attract the attention of Sandoval."

"Sandoval and Pons think the Pom is full of Japs," laughed Matt. "We'd better go up and clear the fog out of their brains. It will be a pleasure to meet Captain Sandoval again. He's a good friend of ours, you know."

"Meppy dot vas a lucky t'ing," vouchsafed Carl, "seeing as how Pons iss madt pecause ve vouldn't go afder der Pom mit der Grampus."

"That's just what we did, though, although we didn't intend making any such move. We shall now have the pleasure of turning the Pom over to Captain Pons."

Making their way through the bulkhead door, Matt, Dick, and Carl gained the hatch, threw it open, and crawled out on the submarine's deck.

CHAPTER XV.

A STAR PERFORMANCE.

The Pom was lying between the Grampus and the Salvadore. When Matt, Dick, and Carl showed themselves there were loud cheers from Glennie and Speake. Pons, on the bridge of the war ship, could be seen jumping up and down like a pea on a hot griddle, waving his hands and yelling. The war ship was too far away for the boys to hear what Pons said.

"I'd about given you fellows up!" exclaimed Glennie. "When that confounded tow line parted, my hopes parted with it. We saw you sink and throw the Japs into the water, and we were sure you'd gone down to stay."

"The Japs got ashore, did they?" asked Matt.

"Every last one of them."

"Well, Glennie, come along here and take us off. I want to go to the war ship and make a report to Captain Sandoval."

Glennie brought the Grampus close to the French boat, and the three boys transferred themselves to their own craft.

"I vouldn't trade vone oof der Grampuses for a tozen of der Poms," asserted Carl, as they were borne away in the direction of the Salvadore.

"I don't know how seven Japs ever stowed themselves away inside the Pom," muttered Dick. "They must have been packed in there like sardines."

"They managed to do a pretty fair amount of work, too," said Matt. "Not the least of it was lassoing me and pulling me into the water."

As the Grampus approached the war ship, Captain Sandoval leaned from the bridge with his megaphone.

"Motor Matt, king of the motor boys!" he shouted. "Ah, ha, amigo, you are as full of surprises as the egg is of meat."

Captain Pons failed to join Captain Sandoval in his amiable sentiment. Pons shook his fist.

"R-r-rascal!" he shouted. "He is mos' contemptible!"

"Throw over your sea ladder, captain," called Matt; "I want to come aboard and talk with you."

"Gracias!" cried Sandoval. "I am delighted, amigo."

A few minutes later Matt was in the captain's cabin. He had been there once before, but not under circumstances that were very pleasant. On the previous occasion, Captain Sandoval had been hostile and full of unjust suspicions. Now he was more than friendly, and it was Captain Pons who was hostile.

"You heard how those rascally Japs gave me the slip, amigo?" asked Sandoval. "Ah, ah, what a wretched piece of business! It was in a fog, and one could not see his hand in front of his face. Thus they escaped. Ay de mi, it was a blow! I came north looking for the rascals, and I reached Lota last night and found Pons. He told me of the troubles he has been having with the Japs, and since it was my duty to aid him in recovering the Pom, why, I took him aboard and we started north. The British vessel Sovereign gave us a tip, and we followed it to this bay. First, we saw the Grampus; then, all so suddenly, up out of the ocean came the Pom! I trained my guns on her to fire in case the Japs proved unreasonable. Presently, behold, the hatch of the Pom opens and you appear. Wonderful! I can hardly believe my eyes because of the so great surprise!"

"Ah, my captain," broke in Pons, "zis Matt is ze r-ruf-fian, ze villain. He say he no haf ze time to bozzer wiz my little boat, zat he not go hunt for her; now, by gar, we see heem on her deck. He play ze trick wiz me. He do w'at he say he not do. He try steal ze boat, oui, zat is w'at he do. I demand of heem ze satisfaction!"

The captain's eyes became very fierce and he threw back his shoulders and slapped his chest.

"Ah, my captain," said Sandoval, "don't make a mistake. I know Motor Matt, and he is a gentleman. I have given him my hand, my captain, and Captain Sandoval never gives his hand to a scoundrel."

Captain Pons arose with much dignity and bowed to Captain Sandoval.

"Merci, monsieur!" he murmured. "Nevair vill I say ze derogatory word to youar honor, but ze actions of zis Motor Matt, w'at you call, is mos' contemptible. Let heem spik, let heem explain if he can."

"Amigo," said Captain Sandoval, "you will explain, for my sake, to my honorable friend, Captain Pons?"

"That's what I came here to do," answered Matt. "I and my friends have saved the Pom for Captain Pons, and this is the reward he gives us."

Captain Pons got up and bowed again to Captain Sandoval. Not to be outdone in courtesy, Captain Sandoval arose and bowed to Captain Pons.

"If I do heem ze wrong," said Captain Pons gravely, "zen I make ze amende. Until he explains, I have ze right to call him mos' contemptible."

"You have the right," agreed Captain Sandoval.

Then they bowed again and sat down.

All this was highly edifying to Matt, but it did not get him very far along with his explanation.

When he got started, however, he held the floor in spite of disturbing symptoms on the part of Pons to get up and bow. He carried the explanation through to its conclusion, and not failing to put due stress on the dangers he and his friends had undergone in their attempt to get the better of the Sons of the Rising Sun.

The two captains were deeply impressed. For some moments after Matt had finished they sat speechless in their chairs; then, as one man they arose. Together they bowed to Matt.

"Ay de mi," breathed Captain Sandoval, "did you ever hear of anything so wonderful?"

"Mos' r-r-remarkable!" exclaimed Captain Pons.

Then they bent to each other. After that Captain Sandoval sat down, but Captain Pons stepped over to Matt and embraced him; then, before Matt could defend himself, Captain Pons kissed him on the cheek.

"Mon ami!" said he; "my friend, I mak' ze apologee. I ask zat you forgeeve ze talk about you as ze mos' contemptible. It is I, me, zat is mos' contemptible——"

"No, no, my captain," protested Captain Sandoval, putting up his hand, "you shall not so greatly injure yourself."

"I r-r-repeat," thundered Captain Pons, thumping his chest fiercely, "I made ze mistake, and I, myself, am mos' contemptible."

Captain Sandoval sighed and looked depressed.

"Zis brav' young man," proceeded Captain Pons, "save ze Pom for me. I sank heem, as one gentleman sank anozzer. Zere, ze debt is cancel. All zat remain is for me to hol' him in mos' tender memory."

"The six Japanese are on the island, Captain Sandoval," said Matt, who was beginning to get a little bit tired of Pons and his mushy nonsense. "Will you send a party ashore to capture them?"

"At once," was the answer.

"And, by the way, Captain Pons," went on Matt, "didn't you say there were only five Japs in the crew that stole the Pom."

"Fife, oui. I count zem and I know."

"Well, that one we captured under the wharf, at Lota, comes out of the five, and would leave four."

"Oui, wan from fife is four."

"Then, captain, how do you account for the fact that there were six on the Pom when she reached this bay?"

"Do you say I spik untruths?" flared the captain, displaying a tendency to renew his quarrel with Matt.

"Not at all, not for the world," answered Matt, with an inward laugh, "but I am puzzled. One from five, in this case, seems to have left six."

"I know nozzing, sare," said Captain Pons. "If zere was seex w'en zere should only haf been fife, zat is zeir business."

"Then we'll let it stand that way," said Matt.

"I am mos' agreeable," returned Captain Pons. "Presently, my captain," he went on, to Sandoval, "I go aboard ze Pom wiz ze crew you gif me, an' we take ze boat to Valparaiso. Is it not so?"

"Yes, my captain," replied Sandoval. "I will lend you the crew and will convoy you to Valparaiso."

"You are mos' kind."

This was enough for Matt. He excused himself, shook hands with Sandoval, and hurried away.

As soon as he was safely in the periscope room of the Grampus, he threw himself down on the locker and laughed until he was sore.

"Get me the rest of my clothes, somebody," said he, "and then start the Grampus northward again."

"Where's our next port of call, old ship?" queried Dick, while Matt was getting into the garments he had taken off just before swimming ashore in the cove.

"Callao," answered Matt. "Then Panama, Acapulco, San Diego—and Frisco."

"Dot lisdens like home!" rumbled Carl.

"In two weeks," cried Glennie, "we'll be at Mare Island, and the cruise will be finished. It's all plain sailing from this on. The Sons of the Rising Sun will have all they can do to take care of themselves, let alone try to make any more trouble for us."

"We're done with them, and there are no ifs or ands about it this time," said Matt. "I'll admit, when I learned they had made off with that French submarine, that I thought they were equipped to accomplish something against us; but we cleared that difficulty in one-two order when we got started."

"It might have been a lot worse, mates," observed Dick, "and there were several times when I thought we were done, done as brown as a kippered herring; but we pulled through—mainly because Matt had his shoulder to the wheel and gave us the right sort of a boost over the hard places."

"As much credit should fall to the rest of you as to me," spoke up Matt. "Take the wheel, Glennie. Full speed ahead, Gaines," he added, through the motor-room tube.

The cylinders never hummed a cheerier tune than they did when they started the Grampus once more on her journey northward, and no boat, surface or submarine, ever carried a happier crew.

CHAPTER XVI.

CONCLUSION.

As day followed day and week followed week, bringing no sign of any further trouble with the Sons of the Rising Sun, Motor Matt and his friends realized that, beyond all doubt, they had worsted their wily foes, and perhaps had taught them a lesson which they could ponder wisely.

At Panama, which was almost the same as United States soil, the boys took shore leave, turn and turn about. From this place Matt sent a cablegram to Captain Nemo, Jr., at Belize.

"On the last leg of our journey. All well and Grampus as fit as a fiddle. Telegraph me at Acapulco."

"Too bad that old canal wasn't finished," observed Dick, as the Grampus left Panama, "at the time we left Belize. We could have come through it, if it had been, and saved a month's time and all that mix-up with the Japs."

"That wasn't the point, Dick," spoke up Glennie. "This trip has been in the nature of a try-out for the Grampus. The government wanted to see what she could do—and I guess the government will know when my log is read at headquarters."

"You're giving us a good report, Glennie?" laughed Dick.

"As good as I can make it."

"Then that means a sale of the boat, without a doubt."

"I understood that my report was to be final. I've had the cruise of my life with you motor boys, and I almost hate to reach San Francisco, because we'll have to separate there."

"You're an A One comrade, Glennie," said Matt heartily, "and you need never look for a pal while this outfit of motor boys is around."

"My sentiments to a t, y, ty," averred Dick.

"Und mine, too, py shinks!" cried Carl.

Glennie was deeply touched. At the beginning of the cruise there had been some hard feelings between him and Dick and Carl, but as they had come to know each other better the unpleasantness had worn away.

All four of the lads were now loyal friends, having undergone perils and dangers shoulder to shoulder, and so each had tried the other's and had not found them wanting.

At Acapulco Matt was confidently expecting to receive a message from Captain Nemo, Jr. In this, however, he was disappointed. There was no message for him. Matt could not understand the reason and was prone to think dire things.

"Captain Nemo, Jr., would surely have answered that message I sent him from Panama," said Matt, "providing he had received it."

"Sure he would," agreed Glennie; "and the fact that you did not get an answer is proof that the captain did not receive your message."

"Aber vy ditn't he receif id?" asked Carl.

"That's the point that alarms me, friends," went on Matt gloomily. "You know we left the captain sick at Belize; too ill, in fact, to come with us on the Grampus. We haven't heard a word from him since the cruise began, and it may be that his sickness terminated fatally."

This thought cast a depression over the motor boys. Captain Nemo, Jr., was a good friend of theirs, and all of them liked him. The Grampus was the triumph of the captain's career, and if he was to be stricken down just as the boat, in charge of the motor boys, was to pass successfully through the Golden Gate, the elation Matt and his friends would otherwise feel must give way to dejection and sorrow.

The victory of this successful cruise was entirely theirs, but the loss of Captain Nemo, Jr., would rob the victory of all pleasure for them.

But the gloom that accompanied the submarine from Acapulco northward was lost in rejoicing at San Diego; for no sooner had the Grampus anchored in the bay off the latter place than no less a person than Captain Nemo, Jr., himself, rowed out and came aboard.

The captain was well and hearty, and his delight in welcoming the boys was boundless.

He looked over the boat and complimented all hands on her efficiency after such a long cruise—the longest and hardest any submarine had ever made; and in the periscope room, until long into the night, the captain sat wide-eyed and absorbed, listening to the adventures of those whom he had commissioned to take the Grampus from Belize to Mare Island.

When all had had their say, and the recital was done, there followed a period of silence. The captain was the first to speak.

"A hundred thousand dollars, my lads, is a great deal of money; but if I had been able to look ahead and learn what dangers were to beset you on your long journey, I would not have allowed you to start for a million. I had some inkling of this Japanese business, for I was offered two hundred thousand for the Grampus by the Japanese government. I chose to deal with the navy department of my own country, even at a direct pecuniary loss to myself. My refusal to sell to the Japs brought a threatening letter from the Sons of the Rising Sun, but I treated it with contempt. I should have taken you into my confidence regarding this Japanese matter before you left Belize, but I thought it of no moment and hesitated to alarm you by even mentioning it."

"It's all but over now, captain," laughed Matt lightly, "and I think we are all of us better for the experience. I know I wouldn't sell the benefit that has accrued to me from this cruise for a lot of money."

"Nor I," said Dick.

"Me, neider," chirped Carl.

"Let me go on record, too," put in Glennie.

"I'm glad you all feel in that way about it," said the captain.

"By the way," asked Matt, "why didn't you answer the cablegram I sent you from Panama, captain?"

"Principally because I never received it," was the smiling response. "Where did you address the message, Matt?"

"To you, at Belize."

"Why, I left Belize a week after you did! It was my intention all along to leave Central America, work up into the States, and then meet you here and take the last lap of the cruise with you."

"It was a mighty big relief to see you come aboard at this port," said Matt. "I hadn't the least idea what was the matter."

"You had a guess that I had taken the One-way Trail, hadn't you, Matt?" jested the captain.

"I didn't know but that might have happened."

"In that event," said the captain, "I had already made a will whereby you boys were to receive the whole amount to be paid by the government. So, you see, my being alive has cost you a pretty pile."

"The money doesn't count, captain," declared Matt stoutly.

"No? Well, money usually counts in this world, Matt—in fact, it cuts a pretty wide swath in every direction."

"It is secondary, captain, to the idea of 'making good.' When we left Belize I vowed that we'd make good and prove that your confidence in us wasn't misplaced. We've all had that in mind before anything and everything else."

"It's a good trait in you," replied the captain, "and in any young man, to love a piece of work for itself, and, money apart, centre every hope on making a success of it. That's the spirit that brings its reward, not only in money, but in self-approval, which is something money can't buy. Every one who went around South America on the Grampus will find, I think, that I know how to be grateful; this, while of secondary importance to the consciousness of duty well performed, will be a substantial acknowledgment of the debt I hold myself under to all of you.

"In San Francisco the Grampus will be sold. The motor boys will go one way, Captain Nemo, Jr., another way, and Speake, Gaines, and Clackett still another. But I hope that this will not be the last of our associations, but that we shall sometime come together again and renew our friendships, which have been so firmly woven together by this cruise of the Grampus, and the persistent and successful effort of the king of the motor boys to make good."

With the hearty echoes this sentiment received still lingering in our ears, the hour seems propitious for taking leave of Matt and the motor boys, while they are at the threshold of another of their many victories.

THE END.

THE NEXT NUMBER (21) WILL CONTAIN

Motor Matt's Launch;

OR,

A FRIEND IN NEED.

New Friends and New Fortunes—The Raffle—Ping-pong Objects—Another Rescue—An Odd Tangle—The Rich Man's Son—A Plan that Failed—A Chase Across the Bay—The Lion's Mouth—The Mouth Closes—Surprising Events—McGlory's Run of Luck—Waiting and Worrying—Ping Stars Himself—A New Twist, by George—Another Twist, by Matt and McGlory.

NEW YORK, July 10, 1909.

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Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.

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THE SPIDER WATER.

II.

On the 30th there was trouble beyond Wild Hat, and all our extra men, put out there under Healey, were fighting to Hold the Rat Valley levels where they hug the river on the west slope. It wasn't really Healey's track. Bucks sent him over there just as the emperor sent Ney, wherever he needed his right arm. Sunday, while Healey was at Wild Hat, rain began falling. Sunday it rained; Monday all through the mountains it rained; Tuesday it was raining from Omaha to Eagle Pass, with the thermometer climbing for breath and the barometer flat as an adder—and the Spider woke. Woke with the April water and the June water and the storm water all at once.

Trackwalkers Tuesday night flagged Number One, and reported the Spider wild, with heavy sheet ice running. A wire from Bucks brought Healey out of the west and into the east, and brought him to reckon for the last time with his ancient enemy.

He was against it Wednesday with dynamite. All the day, all the night, all the next day the sullen roar of the giant powder shook the forming jam above the bridge, and after two days Healey wired, "Ice out," and set back without a minute's sleep for home. Saturday night he slept and Sunday all day and Sunday night. Monday about noon Bucks sent up to ask, but Healey still slept. They asked back by the lad whether they should wake him. Bucks sent word, "No."

It was late Tuesday morning when the tall roadmaster came down, and he was fresh as sunshine. All day he sat with Bucks and the dispatchers watching the line. The Spider raced mad, and the watchers sent in panic messages, but Healey put them in his pipe. "That bridge will go when the mountains go," was all he said.

Nine o'clock that night every star was blinking when Healey looked in for the trackwalkers' reports and the railroad weather bulletins. Bucks, Callahan, and Peeto sat about Martin Duffy, the dispatcher, who in his shirt sleeves threw the stuff off the sounder as it trickled in dot and dash, dot and dash over the wires.

The west wire was good; east everything below Peace River was down. We had to get the eastern reports around by Omaha and the south—a good thousand miles of a loop—but bad news travels even around a Robin Hood loop.

And first came Wild Hat from the west with a stationary river and the Loup Creek falling—clear—good night. And Ed Peeto struck the table heavily and swore it was well in the west. Then from the east came Prairie Portage, all the way round, with a northwest rain, a rising river, and anchor ice running, pounding the piers bad—track in fair shape, and—and——

The wire went wrong. As Duffy knit his eyes and tugged and cussed a little, the wind outside took up the message and whirled a bucket of rain against the windows. But the wires wouldn't right, and stuff that no man could get tumbled in like a dictionary upside down. And Bucks and Callahan and Healey and Peeto smoked, silent, and heard the deepening drum of the rain on the roof.

Then Duffy wrestled mightily yet once more.

"Keep still," he exclaimed, leaning heavily on the key. "Here's something—from the Spider."

He snatched a pen and ran it across a clip; Bucks leaning over read aloud from his shoulder:

"Omaha.

"J. F. Bucks:

"Trainmen from No. 75 stalled west of Rapid City—track afloat in Simpson's Cut—report Spider bridge out—send——"

And the current broke.

Callahan's hand closed rigidly over the hot bowl of his pipe; Peeto sat speechless; Bucks read again at the broken message, but Healey sprang like a man wounded and snatched the clip from his hand.

He stared at the running words till they burned his eyes, and then, with an oath, frightful as the thunder that shook the mountains, he dashed the clip to the floor. His eyes snapped greenish, and he cursed Omaha, cursed its messages, and everything that came out of it. Slow at first, then fast and faster, until all the sting that poisoned his heart in his unjust discharge poured from his lips. It flooded the room like a spilling stream, and none put a word against it, for they knew he stood a wronged man. Out it came—all the rage, all the heart-burning, all the bitterness—and he dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. Only the sounder clicking iron jargon and the thunder shaking the wickiup like a reed filled the ears of the men about him. They watched him slowly knot his fingers and loosen them, and saw his face rise dry and hard and old out of his hands.

"Get up an engine!"

"Not—you're not going down there to-night?" stammered Bucks.

"Yes. Now. Right off. Peeto, get out your men!"

The foreman jumped for the door. Little Duffy, snatching the train sheet, began clearing track for a bridge special. In twenty minutes twenty men were running as many ways through the storm, and a live engine boomed under the wickiup window.

"I want you to be careful, Phil," Bucks spoke anxiously as he looked with Healey out into the storm. "It's a bad night." Healey made no answer.

The lightning shot the yards in a blaze and a crash split the gorge. "A wicked night," muttered Bucks.

Evans, conductor of the special, ran in.

"Here's your orders," said Duffy. "You've got forty miles an hour."

"Don't stretch it," warned Bucks. "Good-by, Phil," he added to Healey, "I'll see you in the morning."

"In the morning," echoed Healey. "Good-by."

The switch engine had puffed up with a caboose; ahead of it Peeto had coupled in the pile driver. At the last minute Callahan concluded to go, and with the bridge gang tumbling into the caboose, the assistant superintendent, Ed Peeto, and Healey climbed into the engine, and they pulled out, five in the cab, for the Spider Water.

Healey, moody at first, began joking and laughing the minute they got away. He sat behind Denis Mullenix, the engineer, and poked his ribs and taunted him with his heavy heels. At last he covered Denis' big hands on the throttle with his own bigger fingers, good-naturedly coaxed them loose, and pushing him away got the reins and the whip into his own keeping. He drew the bar out a notch and settled himself for the run across the flat country.

As they sped from the shelter of the hills, the storm shook them with a freshening fury, and drove the flanges into the south rail with a grinding screech. The rain fell in a sheet, and the right-of-way ran a river. The wind, whipping the water off the ballast, dashed it like hail against the cab glass; the segment of desert caught in the yellow of the headlight rippled and danced and swam in the storm water, and Healey pulled again at the straining throttle and latched it wider.

Notch after notch he drew; heedless of lurch and jump; heedless of bed or curve; heedless of track or storm; and with every spur at her cylinders the engine shook like a frantic horse. Men and monster alike lost thought of caution and drunk a frenzy in the whirl that Healey opened across the swimming plain.

The Peace River hills loomed suddenly in front like moving pictures; before they could think it the desert was behind.

"Phil, man, you must steady up!" yelled Callahan, getting his mouth to Healey's ear. The roadmaster nodded and checked a notch, but the fire was in his blood, and he slewed into the hills with a speed unslackened. The wind blew them, and the track pulled them, and a frenzied man sat at the throttle.

Just where the line crosses the Peace River the track bends sharply through the Needles to take the bridge. The curve is a ten degree. As they struck it, the headlight shot far out upon the river—and they in the cab knew they sat dead men. Instead of lighting the box of the truss, the lamp lit a black and snaky flood with yellow foam sweeping over the abutment, for the Peace had licked up Agnew's thirty-foot piles—and his bridge was not.

There were two things to do; Healey knew them both, and both meant death to the cab, but the caboose sheltered twenty of Healey's faithful men. He instantly threw the air, and with a scream from the tires, the special, shaking in the brake shoes, swung the curve. Again the roadmaster checked heavily, and the pile driver, taking the elevation like a hurdle, bolted into the Needles, dragging the caboose after it. But engine and tender and five in the cab plunged head on into the river.

Not a man in the caboose was killed. They scrambled out of the splinters and on their feet, men and ready to do. One voice came through the storm from the river, and they answered its calling. It was Callahan, but Durden, Mullenix, Peeto, and Healey never called again.

At daybreak, wreckers of the West End, swarming from mountain and plain, were heading for the Peace, and the McCloud gang—up—crossed the Spider on Healey's bridge—on the bridge the coward trainmen had reported out, quaking as they did in the storm at the Spider foaming over its approaches. But Healey's bridge stood—stands to-day.

Yet three days the Spider raged, and knew then its master, while he, three whole days, sat at the bottom of the Peace, clutching the engine levers, in the ruins of Agnew's mistake.

And when the divers got them up, Callahan and Bucks tore big Peeto's arms from his master's body and shut his staring eye and laid him at his master's side. And only the Spider, ravening at Healey's caissons, raged. But Healey slept.

THE END.