The Submarine Boys on Duty | Page 4

they looked quite different from the dusty
travelers who had trudged into Dunhaven.
Jabez Holt then conducted them back to chairs on the porch, remarking:
"It's after four o'clock now, and supper'll be ready sharp at six."
"What time do they knock off work in the boatyard?" queried Jack.

"Five, sharp," the landlord informed him.
"Does that foreman on the submarine boat job ever come along this
way?"
"Goes right by here on his way home," Mr. Holt informed the boys.
"I'd be glad if you'd introduce us to him," Jack suggested.
"I sartain will," nodded Jabez Holt. "An', ye know, Dave Pollard is
stoppin' at this hotel."
"Oh, he is, eh?" Jack snapped up, eagerly. "Then we'll certainly try to
make his acquaintance to-night."
Hal, too, looked pleased at this prospect. Mrs. Holt again calling, from
the depths of the kitchen, the landlord was forced to hurry off. He left
behind two boys who suddenly fell to planning their futures with all the
rosy enthusiasm of youth. The longer they talked about the submarine
boat, the more both Jack and Hal felt convinced that they were going to
succeed in getting into the work. In fact, both planned to become great
in that special field.
It was a bright July day, one of the kind when the world looks at its
best to young, hopeful minds. Absorbed in their vague but rosy plans,
both boys forgot the flight of time.
They were roused out of their talk, at last, by hearing heavy footsteps
on the gravel close at hand. Looking up, they saw a heavy, broad
shouldered, dark-complexioned youth of about eighteen years. He had a
swaggering way of carrying himself, and undoubtedly considered
himself of much importance. His clothing proclaimed him to be a
workman. As he caught sight of the two happy looking boys this older
and larger youth looked them over with a sneering expression which
soon turned to a scowl.
"Strangers here, ain't ye?" demanded the scowling one, as he halted on
the edge of the porch.

"Yes," nodded Jack Benson, pleasantly.
"Thought so," vouchsafed the other. "Any body but a stranger
hereabouts would know ye were in my chair--the one I sit in when I
come along this way."
There was something decidedly insolent both the tone and manner of
the stranger. But Benson, not quick at taking offense, inquired:
"Are you a guest of this hotel."
"None of your business," came the rough retort.
"Oh!" said Jack.
"Did ye hear me say ye were sitting in my chair?"
"Yes."
"Going to get up out of it?"
"Not until I know your rights in the matter," replied Jack. "You see, my
board is paid in advance at this place."
"Huh!" growled the other, sneeringly. "Reckon ye don't know much
'bout Dan Jaggers's way of doin' things."
"Who on earth is Dan Jaggers?" demanded Benson, curiously.
"That's me! It's my name," rejoined the swagger. "An', sense ye're so
fresh--"
Jaggers didn't finish in words, but, taking a firm hold on the back of the
chair, he suddenly pulled it out from under Benson. So swiftly was the
thing done that Jack went down on all fours on the porch. But,
thoroughly aroused, and his eyes flashing indignantly now, that boy
was quickly on his feet. Dan, however, with a satisfied grin, had
dropped into the chair.

"Going to get up out of that, Jaggers?" challenged Jack Benson.
"Not as I know of," rejoined Dan, with a broader grin. "Why?"
"Because I'd hate to hit you while you're sitting down," replied Jack so
quietly that his voice sounded almost mild.
"What's that?" demanded Jaggers, with a guffaw of laughter.
"You heard what I said," Jack insisted. "You'd better get up."
"Spoiling for a fight, are ye?" questioned the bully.
"Not at all," Jack replied, still keeping his temper in check. "I never go
about looking for trouble. I suppose you didn't know any better than to
do what you did."
"What's that?" scowled Dan Jaggers.
"If you want to apologize, and get out of the chair, I'll let it go at that,"
pursued Jack, coolly.
"Hey?" demanded Dan Jaggers, aghast. "Me--apologize?"
He sprang up suddenly, resting a broad paw heavily on Jack's shoulder.
But Benson, without flinching, or drawing back, returned the ugly look
steadfastly.
"You're behaving like a pretty poor grade of tough," spoke Jack, in
deep disgust.
"I am, hey?" roared Dan. He drew back, aiming a heavy fist for
Benson's chest. It was a mistake, as he quickly realized, for Jack
Benson, from much practice in boxing, was as agile and slippery as a
monkey and an eel combined. Jack dodged, then came up under with a
cleanly aimed though not hard blow on Jaggers's chin.
"I'll learn ye!" roared Dan, returning two ponderous blows in