and take care of the Grampus. Somebody will have to do that, you know, Carl. It's fully as important as going ashore and explaining matters to the officials."

Glennie told the captain of the port that he and Matt would go ashore with him and make it plain to everybody that there was a mistake. The ensign's uniform, spick and span and mighty fetching, made a wholesome impression upon the captain of the port.

While Glennie was getting his papers, the port official dropped back alongside the torpedo and examined it with considerable interest. When the ensign reappeared on the submarine's deck, the boat was brought back and Matt and Glennie got aboard. In five minutes they had reached the wharf and clambered ashore.

The negroes who had rowed the boat dropped in on each side of the two young Americans, each drawing an old-fashioned pistol that fired with a percussion cap.

"They're bound we're not going to run," laughed Matt.

"I don't know," returned Glennie, "but I'd rather be in front of those old relics when they're shot off than behind them. I guess a fellow would be safer."

The captain of the port led the way to the Casa de la Administracion of the Señora Cousiño. It was built on the crest of a low rise, and afforded a fine view of the bay. A tall, slim man, who looked like a Frenchman, stood on the steps of the casa surveying the Grampus through a glass. With an expression of disappointment, he lowered the glass and turned toward the captain of the port as he drew near. Then there was French talk and Spanish talk—the tall, slim man using his native tongue, which the Chilian evidently understood, and the Chilian using the Spanish, with which the Frenchman appeared familiar.

Glennie gave strict attention to all that was going on. The finger and whole-arm movements, the hunching of the shoulders, and the shaking and ducking of the heads, accompanied the talk as a sort of pantomime. Matt was highly amused.

A look of astonishment appeared in Glennie's face as he listened.

"By George!" the ensign exclaimed, when the conversation between the Chilian and the Frenchman had died down. "We've jumped into a surprising situation here, Matt, if I've got this thing right."

"What is it, Glennie?" asked Matt.

"Well, the Frenchman says that the submarine isn't the boat he thought it was, and that our arrest has been a mistake."

"I'm glad they found that out without putting us to any trouble. Is there another submarine in these waters? And has it been stolen?"

"That's where the surprising part comes in. I'll have to talk with these fellows, and ask them a few questions, before I can get the layout clear in my mind."

French and Spanish had formed a part of Glennie's education at Annapolis; he reeled off both languages now, first at one and then at the other of the two men, asking questions and receiving voluble replies.

In five minutes he had the situation straightened out to his satisfaction, and sat down on one of the stone steps beside Matt.

"The tall man, Matt," said Glennie, "is Captain Pons, of Edouard Lavalle et Cie, shipbuilders, of Havre, France. This firm of Lavalle & Co. are builders of submarines, and they recently finished such a craft for the Chilian navy. The boat was brought over on a tramp freighter, and Captain Pons came along to instruct the Chilian officers and crew in the manner of running the submarine, and also to secure a draft for the purchase price.

"The submarine was unloaded safely, and was provisioned by Captain Pons for a run to Santiago, where she was to be inspected by the secretary of the navy. Captain Pons was not to get his money from the government until the submarine reached Santiago. The Chilian crew was to come over from Coronel yesterday afternoon, but arrived in the morning, a good twelve hours ahead of time. Captain Pons rowed out with them to the submarine, showed the captain of the crew all over the boat and explained the machinery to him; then, quite unexpectedly, so far as Captain Pons was concerned, the crew grabbed the Frenchman, threw him into the rowboat, closed the hatch of the submarine, and dropped into the bottom of the bay."

Matt was listening with intense interest.

"The crew that Captain Pons took out to the submarine wasn't the right one?" he observed.

"No. The real crew arrived in the afternoon, agreeably to schedule, and found Captain Pons without a submarine and very much up in the air. If he can't recover the submarine from the thieves, his firm may hold him responsible for the loss of the stolen boat."

"There were torpedoes in the French submarine?"

Matt began to grow excited as the situation cleared before him.

"Two," replied Glennie.

"And the bogus crew—who were they?"

"Instead of coming from Coronel, it was discovered that they came from the south—by railroad from Valdivia, on the coast. It has also been discovered that they were Japanese—Japs who had their eyes straightened. It is supposed that they are from the mysterious steamer that escaped from Captain Sandoval, below English Reach."

Matt's astonishment almost lifted him off the stone step on which he was sitting.

"Our old enemies!" he exclaimed. "The Sons of the Rising Sun have secured a submarine boat, and that means that they can follow us wherever we go."

"Hard luck, Matt, that events should drift into this tangle! That French submarine had to be here, it seems, at just the right time to help out the Japs. The young Samurai must have known about this other craft. After dodging Captain Sandoval, they managed to reach Valdivia and came on from there by train. That is how they were able to get ahead of us."

"Every mysterious twist is taken out of the situation now, Glennie," said Matt, almost stunned by the audacity of the Japs and the marvelous way in which circumstances had aided them. "They took possesion of the French submarine and started south to meet the Grampus. The noiseless way in which they hung upon our flanks is easy to understand. The torpedo was launched at us while the French boat was submerged; and when that rope was hurled at me, the boat was just out of the water—there were no lights about her, and the search light of the Grampus enabled those on the French craft to make that cast with the riata."

Matt's face went pale.

"Glennie," he continued, "the hardest job of our lives is ahead of us! The Japs have a submarine, and there's not one of them who would not willingly give his life if, by doing so, he could destroy the Grampus. As long as our enemies were in a steamboat, and compelled to remain on the surface, it was easy to keep away from them; but now, no matter where we go, they can follow us."

"I don't know anything about this French boat," returned Glennie thoughtfully, "but I'll bet something handsome she's not half so good a craft as the Grampus. There's a big advantage for us, right at the start. Then, again, about the only thing we're to fear from the stolen submarine is the torpedo work. Captain Pons says there were only two torpedoes in the craft. One of them is accounted for. They have only one more—and I guess we can get away from that. Besides all this, don't forget that the Japs are green hands with the submarine, and have had no practical experience in running her. Captain Pons explained to them the theoretical part of the machinery, but, you take it from me, those wily Orientals are going to get themselves into trouble."

"They manœuvred the submarine pretty well last night," said Matt. "I don't see how they could improve much on their work. A Jap, Glennie, is a regular genius in 'catching on' to things. Show him how to do a piece of work once, and he knows it for all time. They're clever—as clever as they are wily, and sometimes treacherous."

At this point, Captain Pons put in a few words.

"I see ze torpedo is wiz youar boat, monsieur.