breakfast asserting itself, Larry drew a bar of chocolate
from his pocket and munched on it. But this was scanty fare for a
healthy young six-footer, accustomed to a liberal portion of ham and
eggs. Furthermore, the lack of coffee made him realize that he was
getting decidedly thirsty. The air, moreover, was getting pretty bad.

"All in all, this hole wasn't exactly intended for a bedroom!" he
reflected with a wry smile.

Taking a chance, he opened the door a crack and sat there impatiently,
while the interminable minutes ticked off.

The _Nereid's_ turbine was humming now with a high, vibrant note that
indicated they must be knocking off the knots at a lively clip. He
wondered how far out they were, and how far down.

Lord, there'd be a riot when he showed up! He wanted to wait till they
were far enough on their way so it would be too much trouble to turn
around and put him ashore.

But by noon his powers of endurance were exhausted. Flinging open the
door, he stepped out into the corridor, followed it to a companionway
and mounted the ladder to the deck above.

There he was assailed by a familiar and welcome odor--food!

Trailing it to its origin, he came to a pair of swinging doors at the
end of a cork-paved passage. Beyond, he saw on peering through, was
the mess-room, and there at the table, among a number of uniformed
officers, sat Professor Stevens and Diane.

A last moment Larry stood there, looking in on them. Then, drawing a
deep breath, he pushed wide the swinging doors and entered with a
cheery:

"Good morning, folks! Hope I'm not too late for lunch!"

* * * * *

Varying degrees of surprise greeted this dramatic appearance. The
officers stared, Diane gasped, her father leaped to has feet with a
cry.

"That reporter! Why--why, what are you doing here, young man?"

"Just representing the press."

Larry tried to make it sound nonchalant but he was finding it
difficult to bear up under this barrage of disapproving
eyes--particularly two very young, very blue ones.

"So that is the way you reward us for giving you an exclusive story,
is it?" Professor Stevens' voice was scathing. "A representative of
the press! A stowaway, rather--and as such you will be treated!"

He turned to one of his officers.

"Report to Captain Petersen that we have a stowaway aboard and order
him to put about at once."

He turned to another.

"See that Mr. Hunter is taken below and