“There!” he whispered.
Presently he took off his phones. “It’s no use listening,” he declared “we can’t tell what they’re saying. Oh, thunder, why isn’t Smernoff here?”
“Well, we can call to the folks and tell them and they can let Smernoff listen,” said Frank.
“Silly!” cried Tom petulantly. “If we called them, these Russians would hear and either clear out or shut up. And, besides, I don’t believe they could hear them on the submarine. I’ll bet that’s been the trouble all along. They’ve been too far off.”
“Well, what can we do then?” demanded Frank. “If we call for help to get back, these fellows will hear us too. We’re in a nice fix just from chasing that confounded old manatee. First we get lost and then we hear this talking and can’t even tell about it.”
“We might row along until we lose these fellows and then call the sub,” suggested Tom, “if we get so far away we can’t hear them the chances are they can’t hear us. Come on.”
There seemed nothing else to do and so, choosing a channel that led away from the direction whence the sounds had come, the boys rowed steadily for some time. Then they ceased rowing and picking up the coil Frank held it while Tom listened at the set.
For a space no sounds came to his ears and then he started so violently that Frank was almost upset.
“Gosh all crickety, Frank!” he exclaimed. “Something’s wrong. They sound nearer than ever.”
Puzzled and not knowing what to do, the boys sat motionless and speechless. They seemed to be surrounded by the voices coming from both directions.