Rhinds and Radwin talked in whispers, behind the locked door of another
room. They chuckled a long while, then shook hands and went to bed.

The boys, however, as we know, were safely aboard the submarine.

Mr. Farnum had left a call for eight o'clock in the morning. It was
about twenty minutes later that Farnum and Pollard knocked loudly on
the door of the room occupied by Rhinds.

"Well?" demanded Mr. Rhinds, opening the door, and appearing, minus coat
and vest. "Ah, good morning, gentlemen. Going down to breakfast? I'll
be ready in a few moments."

"Breakfast--nothing!" retorted Jacob Farnum, sharply. "Our young men
are missing. We went to their rooms this morning, and could get no
answer. We've had their doors opened with pass-keys--our three young
submarine officers haven't been in their beds all night long!"

John C. Rhinds allowed his face to express more surprise than concern
over this news.

"Oh, well," he remarked, "boys will be boys, you know--especially when
they're sailors."

"Our boys are not that sort," retorted Mr. Farnum, sharply. "They are
not hoodlums or racketers."

"Then of course you'll find 'em safe on one of your boats," proposed Mr.
Rhinds, innocently. "Just two minutes, and I'll go down to breakfast
with you."

Radwin, too, joined them. He also expressed surprise, artfully. All
four went to the breakfast room together. Messrs. Farnum and Pollard
ate well enough, though they seemed badly worried.

"There's just one thing about it, of course," sighed Jacob Farnum, as
the party left the table. "If our youngsters are not on one of our boats,
then we've got to lose the speed race to-day. None of us can handle the
boats the way they do."

"Oh, you'll find the boys all right on one of the boats," asserted Fred
Radwin, confidently.

The rivals went down to the water front together. It was well after
nine o'clock when they entered a shore boat.

"We'll go out to your craft, first," proposed Mr. Rhinds, "You'll feel
so much better, gentlemen, when you find your crew all right. I'll feel
better, too, for I wouldn't want to beat you unfairly to-day."

Grant Andrews and two of his workmen stood on the platform deck of the
"Benson," leaning against the conning tower, when the shore boat came
within hail.

"I am afraid to call out to Grant, and ask him," faltered the
shipbuilder.

"Then don't do it," returned Mr. Rhinds, sympathetically. "Just wait
until we get alongsid