training.

Red Pennington, Don’s inseparable companion, cut a far less heroic figure. Except for gorilla-like strength evident beneath his fat, the young lieutenant would have resembled a chubby clown. Just now his naturally tender skin was tortured by sunburn and insect bites to the consistency of raw beef; yet its lumpy redness gave an irresistible effect of comic makeup. Fortunately Red’s own sense of humor was unconquerable and almost as deep as his loyalty to Don Winslow. These two traits, plus real ability as an officer and fighting man, had won him the coveted job of Don’s most trusted assistant, and the envy of every young naval officer who preferred adventure to routine.

Time and again, both Don Winslow and Red had been marked for death by the secret organization of Scorpia, whose war-making plots they had more than once uncovered and wrecked. Their great hope was to capture or destroy the crime ring’s despotic master—that evil, elusive genius who called himself merely “The Scorpion” and sucked in through a thousand agents the war-poisoned wealth of nations. Wherever war, or the fear of it, created topheavy armaments the Scorpion’s brood took their fat share of graft and hush money. War and murder were Scorpia’s stock in trade, and to enlarge them its members’ perverted souls were pledged.

So great had the Scorpion’s secret power become when the United States Government first realized its danger, that only by a miracle could the threat of war be lifted from our own and neighbor nations. In this crisis Don Winslow was chosen to go out, like David against the giant Goliath, and end the Scorpion’s menace.

Flying over the Windward Passage, Don and Red finally spotted and bombed the Scorpion’s submarine which had been torpedoing United States war vessels. A short time later mysterious anti-aircraft fire brought their plane down in the coastal jungle of Haiti. Neither officer was hurt, however, and the gunners from the Scorpion submarine base found the tables suddenly turned when Don and Red surprised them and seized their hidden stronghold. In the fight one Scorpion agent was killed. The others escaped, under cover of darkness.

Amazement struck the two young officers when they discovered their close friend and childhood playmate, Mercedes Colby, a prisoner in the enemy’s underground quarters. Mercedes had blundered upon the Scorpion base, after being shipwrecked on the wild Haitian coast. With her had been taken prisoner a Spanish-American, Yanos, two native fishermen, and an ex-Navy seaman by the name of Jerry Ward.

At the present moment all but Mercedes, Don and Red were asleep in the immense underground tank which the enemy had used as supply base and living quarters. Knowing that the Commander had radioed for a gunboat to pick them up, they took it for granted that their troubles were over.

However, the three young persons now looking out to sea knew better than to take anything for granted where the evil power of Scorpia was involved. By this time the failure of his men to report would have warned the Scorpion that his submarine base was captured. His counterattack might be delayed, but it was certain to be deadly.

With real relief therefore the two officers and Mercedes recognized the trim lines of the United States Gunboat Gatoon, just rounding a nearby headland. As the converted yacht’s bower anchor splashed down at the cove’s mouth, her launch swung outboard from the davits, manned by a boatswain and two armed sailors. At the same time a two-seater flying boat roared in out of the dawn to land like a white gull in the offing.

“That was quick answer to your radio call, Don!” observed Red Pennington as the Gatoon’s launch drove swiftly shoreward. “I didn’t count on their raising this little jungle cove till noon. But, say! I sure hope Cap’n Riggs has got more than Java and