ht of a clock on a
church steeple--twenty-five minutes of eight.

"That means a fearful hustle," he muttered, and went ahead under such
steam that he all but panted. At last he came to the Maryland House,
opposite the State Capitol grounds. Into the office of the hotel he
darted, going straight up to the desk.

A clerk who had been on duty for hours, and who was growing more drowsy
every moment, stared at the boy in amazement.

"See here, you ragamuffin, what--"

"My name is Benson," began the boy, breathlessly. "I'm a guest of the
house--arrived last night. I--"

"You, a guest of _this_ house?" demanded the clerk of the most select
hotel in the town.

"You--"

That was as far as the disgust of the clerk would permit him to go in
words. A score of well-dressed gentlemen were staring in astonishment
at the scene. The clerk nodded to two stout porters who had suspended
their work nearby.

It had been Jack Benson's purpose to go to his room and keep out of
sight, while despatching one of the colored bell-boys of the hotel with
a note to Hal Hastings, asking that chum to send him up a uniform and
other articles of attire. However, before the young submarine captain
fully realized what was happening, the two porters had seized him.
Firmly, even though gently, they bustled him out through the entrance
onto the street.

"Scat!" advised one of the pair.

Jack started to protest, then realized the hopelessness of such a
course. In truth, he did not blame the hotel folks in the least.

"Oh, well," he sighed, paling as soon as the new flush of mortification
had died out, "there's nothing for it but to hurry to the Academy.
I hope the sentries won't shoot when they see me," he added, bitterly.

Across the State Capitol grounds he hurried, then down through a side
street until he arrived at the gate of the Academy grounds.

"Halt!" challenged a sentry, as soon as Jack showed his face through
the gateway.

Young Benson stopped, bringing his heels together with a click.

"What do you want? Where are you going?" demanded the marine.

"I know I look pretty tough," Jack admitted, shamefacedly. "But I
belong aboard the 'Farnum,' one of the submarines that arrived last
night. And I'm due there at this minute. Please don't delay me."

"All right," replied the sentry, after surveying the boy from head to
foot once more. Then he added, in a lower tone, with just the
suspicion of a grin showing at the corners