ling gleefully. “That fellow over there has been caught slipping by, but it wasn’t us.”
Suddenly their vessel gathered speed and shot away with her engines crowded to every pound of steam. She had passed the danger lines and had only to put a safe distance between herself and the battleship fleet. The watchers on the nearest vessel must have heard the hum of her machinery or the rush of water from her bow, for immediately lights flared up, seeming to spread from ship to ship, straight gleaming, groping fingers flashed back and forth, signalling, hunting and questioning. Billy, looking back, seemed to see the whole sky an interwoven maze of shafts of light as every warship searched for her enemy. One long beam swung toward them in a wide, sweeping curve, approached, almost touched them, but just missed, leaving them safe to speed away into the safety of the darkness.
“It’s twelve o’clock, and the war game’s over,” said the sailor at his side, “and I believe our old boat has made a pretty good record after all. Now you’re to come below and turn in, young man, or you’ll surely be a dead boy in the morning.”
The novelty of sleeping in a sailor’s ham-
