to watch--climbed aboard and ate their dinner.

Ross finished quickly, and sought the deck; for, on going down to the
wardroom, he had seen among the visitors from shore the one girl in the
world to him--the girl he had met at Newport, Washington, and New York,
whom he wanted as he wanted life, but whom he had not asked for yet,
because he had felt so sure of her.

And now this surety was jolted out of his consciousness; for she was
there escorted by a man she had often described, and whom Ross
recognized from the description--a tall, dark, "captainish"-looking
fellow, with a large mustache; but who, far from being a captain or
other kind of superman, was merely a photographer--yet a wealthy and
successful photographer, whose work was unusual and artistic.

Ross, though an efficient naval officer, was anything but "captainish";
he was simply a clean-shaven, clean-cut young fellow, with a face that
mirrored every emotion of his soul. Knowing this infirmity--if such it
is--he resolutely put down the jealous thoughts that surged through his
brain; and when the visitors, guests of the captain, reached the deck,
he met them, and was introduced to Mr. Foster with as pleasant a face as
the girl had ever seen.

Then, with the captain's permission, he invited them down to inspect his
submarine. A plank from the lower grating of the gangway to the deck of
the smaller craft was all that was needed, and along this they went, the
girl ahead, supported by Mr. Foster, and Ross following, with a
messenger boy from the bridge following him.

At the hatch, the girl paused and shrank back, for the wide-open eyes of
the caretaker were looking up at her. Ross surmised this, and called to
the man to come up and get his dinner; then, as the man passed him and
stepped onto the plank, the messenger got his attention. The officer of
the deck desired to speak with him, he said.

Ross explained the manner of descent, admonished his guests to touch
nothing until he returned, and followed the messenger back to the
officer of the deck. It was nothing of importance, simply a matter
pertaining to the afternoon drill; and, somewhat annoyed, Ross returned.
But he paused at the end of the plank; a loud voice from below halted
him, and he did not care to interrupt. Nor did he care to go back,
leaving them alone in a submarine.

"I mean it," Foster was saying vehemently. "I hope this boat does go to
the bottom."

"Why, Mr. Foster!" cried the girl.