n his chum's
ear:

"You've seen him before. It's the man we saw in the bushes up there by
the Elmvale Dam the other day. Remember, Al?"

"Gee! Yes!" breathed Torry.

"They told me his name was Blake. He doesn't look it," said Whistler
earnestly. "He looks more like a German than Hansie Hertig--and that's
enough!"

"Aw----"

"Of course, he can't help that," agreed Whistler before Torrance could
voice objection. "But he is a stranger in Elmvale. He works at the
munition factory. You'd think of course they'd be careful who they
employ. But he wouldn't be the first alien that has been employed in
such a factory."

"What are you driving at, Phil?" demanded his chum, much puzzled now.

"I found something up there near the dam that I didn't tell you fellows
about. And it is something that I think that man's interested in. Now,
what's he out here for?"

"For a sail."

"In that old tub that is full of oil casks and the like?"

"Whistler Morgan!" breathed Torry in amazement, "how do you know at this
distance what kind of cargo that boat has?"

"Why, she fairly reeks of oil!" said Whistler confidently. "See that
streak along the water in her wake--that purplish, reddish streak?"

"I see it!" admitted Torry in a moment.

"Nothing but oil would do that. She's got leaky casks aboard. And where
would an oil lighter be going out this way? Where is she coming from and
where is she going? And what is that bewhiskered Blake doing aboard her?
Tell me that, will you?"

But the wondering and excited Torrance could not answer these
questions.

CHAPTER VI

AN OLD FRIEND

Fishing rather palled upon both Whistler and Torry after sighting the
other boat. The younger boys had not paid much attention to the passing
of the craft which Whistler was confident was an oil lighter of some
kind.

"You're so plaguy suspicious, Whistler," muttered Al Torrance, as they
heaved up the anchor and the younger boys hoisted the big sail.

"For all you know, that Blake may be as harmless as a baby."

"Sure," agreed Morgan. "But what's he doing out in that boat, and what
is the boat itself doing out here? She's headed off shore--and you saw
she was loaded. The water almost lapped over her rail."

"Well?"

"She surely isn't headed for the other side of the Atlantic," Whistler
declared. "Yet she's aiming straight out to sea right now. She isn't
following the coast any longer."

It was a fact. Although the strange power launch w