same to me," sighed Eph. "To my untrained ear all
Japanese names sound alike."

"Whatever you do," warned Jack, "don't, hurt the poor fellow's feelings
by calling him Kimono."

"Why not?"

"Well, the Japanese are a proud and sensitive race.

"Suppose they are?"

"Do you know what 'Kimono' means, Eph?"

"Haven't even a guilty suspicion."

"It's the Japanese name for a woman's dress."

"Wow!" muttered Somers. "I shall surely have to, forget 'Kimono,' then.
What do you call his truly name?"

"Kamanako," Jack responded, and spelled it. Eph wrote the name down
on a slip of paper, saying:

"Thank you, Jack. I'll try to commit this name to memory. I don't want
to hurt the feelings of a sensitive little fellow. It would be a shame
to have to punch him if he felt insulted and made a pass at me."

"Punch him, eh?" laughed Jack in genuine enjoyment. "Eph! Eph! Don't
make any false start like that!"

"What are you talking about?" questioned Somers.

"Don't make the mistake, at any time, Of trying to punch that Japanese."

"Trying to?" gasped Somers. "Say, if I made a swing at that light
colored little chocolate drop, do you think I'd make a false pass and
hit my own nose?"

"You might be lucky if nothing worse happened," grinned Jack. "Eph,
did you never hear of the Japanese jiu-jitsu?"

"What's that?" demanded young Somers. "Slang name for something else
in the Jap wardrobe?"

"No; it's the Jap way of fighting," Captain Benson explained. "And you
want to remember, Eph, that's it's a mighty sudden system, too. It hits
like lightning. When the smoke clears away you see a little Japanese
bowing over you, and apologizing for having rudely tipped you over."

"And little Cabbage-Jacko could do that?" Eph grinned, incredulously.
"Say, it's wrong to tell me such funny things when I have a cracked lip."

"All right," sighed Jack. "But at least you've been warned."

Truth to tell, the young submarine commander wasn't much worried about
Eph's deliberately provoking any fistic encounter with a fellow much
smaller than himself. In the first place, the carroty-haired boy wasn't
quarrelsome, unless actually driven into a fight. At all times Somers
was too manly to take out wrath on anyone merely up to his own shoulder
height.

Nearly an hour later Jack Benson stepped through into the conning tower;
then moved down the spiral staircase.

His rubber-soled deck shoes made no noise. Thus it happened th