Filipino as he plows through the
jungle. I can't see him, but I can see the bushes make way for him.
Believe me, at this time to-morrow he'll still be running!"

"He went up in the air some!" Pat said. "How did you ever do that,
Cully? He shot up into the blue and then dove straight down into the
bottom. Most wonderful thing I ever saw."

"That," answered Frank, with a grin, "was a Boy Scout hint that his
presence was not needed here."

"This," said Jimmie, pointing to Pat, "is Pat Mack, the loafer we were
talkin' about the other night. He placed the signals in grass. You
wouldn't think to look at him, that he was very bright, except his hair,
but he is quite intelligent at times."

Jimmie dodged as Pat made for him and promptly fell overboard. The boys
fished him out and Frank scolded him for mussing up the cockpit!

"The little rascal deserved it," said Pat. "I'm deserving of a more
formal introduction, being of the Wolf Patrol, of the city of New York."

"Huh!" said Jimmie. "I found him tied up like a calf in a butcher's
wagon, and had to cut him loose. Then Ned found him in the teeth of a
dog an' had to shoot the dog! I don't think he's so much-a-much!"

Shouts were now heard coming from the jungle, and it became evident that
the guard who had been thrown out of the boat had encountered others who
were proceeding to the bay to inspect the wonderful prize secured by
French, as reported by the Filipinos sent away the night before.

Ned suggested to Jack that he get the _Manhattan_ under motion at once,
as she lay within easy reaching distance of the shore. Jack replaced the
wires in the jar and the propeller was soon singing a merry tune to the
waters of the bay.

"You got the engine in order quick!" French suggested.

"Of course," Jack replied. "Did you have any idea that I would help you
steal our Uncle Sam's boat?"

"Take to your heels," Ned directed, as soon as the boat was fairly out
of the little harbor. "It won't take long for the news to get to the
other boats, and they will, of course, pursue us. Can they overtake us?"
he asked, turning to French.

"They can make about fifteen miles an hour," was the reply. "What can
you make?"

"Rather more than that, under pressure," was the reply.

French sat easily on the bridge deck as the _Manhattan_ glided away. He
appeared to be as thoroughly satisfied with the situation as when he was
the captor instead of the captive. When Frank related the story of