r in a good fight.

"Remember the rumpus we had, Mr. MacMasters and us fellows, when those
Germans tried to recapture the _Graf von Posen_?" Ikey asked his mates.

"Are we likely to forget it?" retorted Al.

"What about it, Ikey?" asked Michael Donahue, complacently. "It was a
lovely fight!"

"Do you s'pose the fellows on this oil tender we are chasin' will
fight?" asked Ikey.

"Not a chance. Here's fifty men on this chaser. The Germans--if they are
Germans--wouldn't stand any show. There are only a few of them," said
Torry.

"Including the black-whiskered chap Whistler tells about," Frenchy said.
"Hey, Whistler!"

"What is it?" asked the older lad seriously.

"D'you really think that power boat we saw is going out to meet a
submarine?"

"Ask me an easier one," said Morgan. "I can't guess. But she might. We
know very well that German submarines and German raiders, and even
Germany itself, pass news back and forth by wireless. We can't control
the vibrations of the air--worse luck!"

"Now you've said something, boy!" agreed Torry.

"They read all the news that passes between our ships, too, unless it is
in a secret code. And they pick everything they need to know about our
ship movements out of the air."

"Too bad wireless was ever invented, then," grumbled Torry.

"Six of one and half a dozen of the other," grinned Frenchy. "You bet
our operators steal German messages."

"It's likely. You know that chap on the _Colodia_ whom we all liked so
well, the chief wireless operator, got lots of information that was
supposed only to be picked up by German submarines.

"In this case," added Whistler Morgan, "the sub may have wirelessed word
for supplies. We don't know how many alien enemies may be running
wireless stations in the United States. The Secret Service men are
unearthing them all the time."

"Well," sighed Ikey, "I only hope we'll catch up with this oil tub we're
hunting just as she is unloading her cargo onto a sub. Then! Blooey!
We'll drop a depth bomb or two, and settle Mr. Submarine."

"Just like _that_!" drawled Whistler. "It sounds easy. How many times
did the _Colodia_ chase a U-boat and lose it?"

"Crickey!" breathed Torry, "even the _Colodia_ couldn't travel like this
shark."

"Oh! you admit it, do you?" grinned Frenchy. "Well, we are going some!"

But there was an element working against the S. P. 888--an element which
could not be controlled. No matter how speedy the oil boat might