" he could not
help adding, wistfully, "I wish I could see how I am going to be able to
clear myself so that not even a trace of a taint of suspicion can rest
against any name."

The youngsters tried to make breakfast a merry meal, though they were
not wholly successful. During the night, following the taking of the
prize, Skipper Tom Halstead, it seemed, had been entertaining the four
young officers left aboard the "Restless" with several exciting tales of
his own wholly exciting life as a motor boat master. Most of these tales
are already familiar to the readers of the "MOTOR BOAT CLUB SERIES."

"What's Halstead's home port?" asked Hal, rather absently, for,
naturally, his mind was rather full of his own troubles.

"Some little place near the mouth of the Kennebec River," Prescott
answered.

"Then isn't he a long way from home?" asked Hal.

"Halstead often is a long way from home," nodded Lieutenant Holmes. "Not
so very long ago Halstead commanded a yacht on the Pacific Ocean, and
had some of his most rousing adventures at that time."

"It's young fellows like Halstead, Joe Dawson and that queer genius,
Hank Butts, who are needed to build up the American merchant marine once
more," Prescott continued.

Having been up all night most of the young officers were now glad to
turn in for a few hours of sleep. Lieutenant Hal passed a wretched day
of it.

Toward four o'clock in the afternoon an orderly brought in the afternoon
mail from the village. With the mail came two telegrams, one for Captain
Foster and the other for Lieutenant Prescott. That latter young officer
tore open his telegram eagerly, and read:

"Received, en route, your telegram stating you were ordered to
Holmesville. Belle and I at once changed our route and are here
at Holmesville, Eagle Hotel. Mother with us. Find you not here,
and no troops here, and that we will not be allowed to join
your command. What shall we do?

"LAURA BENTLEY."

"What a queer girl's freak that was," murmured Prescott, and called
Ensign Dave Darrin over to read the despatch.

"I'm afraid I don't like that," muttered Dave, his brow darkening. "We'd
better wire the girls begging them to get away from the border as soon
as they know how."

"Who's that you're going to order away from the border, Mr. Darrin?"
inquired Captain Foster, coming up and catching only a few words.

"No one that we can very well _order_, sir," replied Darrin. "I may as