“So would I!” agreed Jerry.
“We’ll have to keep watch,” said Bob. “He seems to have it in for us.”
“Let’s see if we can find out something about him,” suggested Ned. “We can ask some of our officers, and, if they don’t know, maybe they can find out from the ship’s captain. It may be this fellow is a German spy, or at least a Hun sympathizer, who would like to play some mean trick on those who put the ‘Fatherland’ on the blink.”
“Yes, let’s see if we can get a line on him,” agreed Bob.
Jerry was about to assent to this when the three chums were approached by a group of their comrades who wanted them to join a party that was going to call on some of the wounded who were below decks. This was done, and, for the time being, the queer little bald-headed man was forgotten.
Indeed the minds of the Motor Boys did not revert to him until late that night when they were turning in, and then Jerry said:
“We’ll make some inquiries in the morning.”
The boys were tired enough to sleep soundly, even though their beds were not as comfortable as those oftentimes they had stretched out on when in some camp. But they were too happy over going home to find fault, and soon all were asleep, as were hundreds all around them.
It was shortly after midnight, Jerry declared later, stating that he had glanced at his radium-faced wrist watch, when the midnight attack took place. And it was made on Bob. He was sleeping between Ned and Jerry, and they were awakened by hearing the stout lad yell.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Jerry, suddenly awakening and instinctively glancing at his watch. “What is it, Bob?”