d Owen tricked us and got us last night," explained Benson. "I
don't, believe they knew anything about the money. They just wanted to
beat us to their heart's content. But they found the money, and--but
I'd better begin at the beginning."

This Jack did, soon putting Mr. Farnum in possession of the whole story.

"I'll send two men with Jaggers, to turn him over to the constable,"
remarked Mr. Farnum. "I'll also send the alarm out so that Josh Owen
may be caught. Both these fellows must have their full deserts."

"Perhaps, first of all, you'll take this money," urged Jack, producing
the roll of banknotes. "Count it over, will you please, sir?"

Mr. Farnum rapidly counted. "Just eight hundred," he nodded. "But,
according to your story, it ought to be five dollars short, on account
of what this rascal, Jaggers, took out to spend."

"We've made that good out of some of our own money that the pair took
away from us, and which we got back with yours."

"You won't do anything of the sort," retorted Mr. Farnum, thrusting
the money down in one of his pockets. "I owe you that five, besides
your commission of forty dollars. And I'll settle with you just as
soon as we get our rush off. But now--you haven't had any breakfast.
Rush up to the hotel and get it at my expense. Then be sure to be
back here before ten o'clock. And say, boys, you're the right kind
of material--both of you. I hope to keep you with us."

Two men being dispatched to convey Dan Jaggers to the lock-up, Jack
and Hal hurried away for some sort of a meal. Eph Somers, being inside
the yard, and no one paying him any heed, that young man concluded
that he might as well remain where he could see the most.

While the two submarine boys were at breakfast a constable and a deputy
appeared at the hotel, to get precise directions as to where to find the
drugged Joshua Owen. Then they departed in haste.

"There's the band playing over at the yard!" cried Hal, seated at the
hotel dining table. "Great Scott! We'll be late."

"I hardly see how that can happen," replied Jack. "It isn't quite nine
o'clock yet."

Nevertheless, the martial strains caused both boys to hurry through
their breakfast. Then, full of eagerness, they all but ran down the
short stretch of road to the yard.

"I wish we had a little better clothes," muttered Hal, regretfully, as
they neared the gate.

"What's the odds?" replied young Benson. "We're workmen, anyway."

"Bu