The Submarine Boys for the Flag | Page 6

"Eh? I do not know that I understand," responded Herr Professor
Radberg, slowly.
"If you're figuring on seeing us," Eph went on, gravely, "I'm afraid
you're in for bad news."
"Bad news? Ach! What do you mean, young man?"
"Just what I said," replied Eph.
Professor Radberg looked so puzzled that Hal Hastings broke in,
quietly:
"Professor, unless I'm much in error, you want to see us about a
proposition that we enter the German naval service."
"Hush! Not so loud," warned Radberg, looking suspiciously around.

"There's nothing we have to keep quiet about," Hal went on. "You have
already spoken to our captain, Jack Benson, about this matter."
"Ach! Yes."
"And Jack has refused."
"Your captain is a fool!" cried the German.
"Then we serve a fool, because he's our captain," retorted Hal, quietly,
though there was a flash in his eyes.
"I shall look for you two at the hotel in one hour," declared the German,
impressively.
"My friend, Mr. Somers, has already told you that you'll be using your
eyesight to poor advantage, then," Hal answered.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, I mean, Professor, that you can't possibly persuade us to go to
Germany and tell your people anything that we know about the Pollard
submarine boats, or any other type."
"But you shall be well paid!"
"Professor, what would be your price for selling out your country to the
United States?" asked Hal, gazing fixedly at the German.
"You insult me!" cried the German, his face growing red. "I am a
patriot."
"Yet, you insult us by thinking that we would sell our country," went
on Hal, coolly.
"Are you two going to be as big fools as your captain?" demanded Herr
Professor Radberg, almost incredulously.
"Bigger!" promised Eph, with a grin.

"Ach! Well, we shall talk this all over when you come to the hotel in an
hour," replied the German. He turned and left the store.
"Now, I don't doubt," mocked Hal, "he has gone away firm in the belief
that we'll keep his appointment."
"He'll wake up after a while," laughed Eph Somers.
After indulging in a second ice cream soda the submarine boys started
down the street toward the Farnum shipyard where the Pollard boats
were built.
As they passed a street corner they heard a cautious:
"Hss--sst!"
"Now, who threw that our way?" demanded the irrepressible Eph,
turning swiftly. Then he added, in a tone so low that only his comrades
could hear:
"Say, fellows, I'll bet that cost something!"
"That" was, a rather undersized little man, of perhaps thirty. Dark of
hair, and sparkling of eye, the stranger's rather pallid face was partly
covered, in front, by a short goatee, of the French "imperial" sort, and a
moustache whose points were waxed out in fierce military fashion.
It was the stranger's apparel that had attracted Eph's notice particularly.
The stranger was arrayed almost exquisite fashion; his clothes were of
finest texture and latest Parisian type. His little, pointed shoes were
almost as dainty as a girl's. Though the day was warm the stranger was
gloved, and handled a cane in the head of which a handsome amethyst
shone.
"I wonder how that got through the custom house?" was Eph Somers's
next undertoned question.
"Ah, good morning, gentlemen," greeted the stranger, coming toward
them, all smiles and bows. "Av I have not med ze mistake, zen I am

address ze torpedo boys."
"Right-o," drawled Eph. "Regular human torpedoes, as touchy as
gun-cotton. Why, I am due to explode this moment!"
Though the stranger looked puzzled at first, his face rapidly broke into
a cordial smile.
"Oh, ah! I understand. You mek what is call ze American joke, eh? You
have little fun wiz me."
The Frenchman, for that he unmistakably was, laughed in the utmost
good humor. The boys found themselves much inclined to like this
stranger.
"Now, young gentlemen," continued the Frenchman, "I am ze
Chevalier Gari d'Ouray."
"Glad to meet you, Chev," volunteered Eph, with suspicious amiability,
holding out his hand, which the Frenchman took daintily. "I'm a
'shoveleer' myself, and this awkward, gawky looking boy with me is
our engineer."
Eph had a tight grip on the stranger's hand, by this time, and was surely
making it interesting for the Frenchman. The Chevalier d'Ouray was
doing his best to retain his politeness, but Somers's hearty grip hurt the
foreigner's soft little hand.
"What can we do for you, Chev?" demanded Eph, holding to the
Frenchman's hand so persistently that Hastings gave his friend a sharp
nudge in the back.
"Let us go somewhere," urged the Frenchman. "Some place were we
can sit down and have ze talk about important matters. I have ze
message for you zat I cannot deliver upon ze street."
"Now, don't say, please," begged Eph, "that you