“You three didn’t think you could take her away from the lot of us, did you?”
Still no answer, merely a cool, passive glance.
“You can’t rattle him,” put in Dick, “nor get him to say anything that’s incriminating. He’s Tolo, hard and fast, and it’s not so queer why he and his two comrades hove alongside of us. They were engaged in some quiet work, and when Mr. Glennie went on deck, according to your orders, he interrupted them and sprung a fight where no fight was intended.”
“Now, Dick,” said Bob whimsically, “you’re the deep one. Just what do you mean by that?”
“Suppose there was a bomb in that dugout,” continued Dick; “and suppose those fellows fastened it to the side of the Grampus, fired the fuse, and then paddled silently away. What would have happened? Will dynamite cause damage sideways as well as up and down?”
Bob gave a startled jump—a jump that caused his wet clothes to rustle, and the water to slosh around in his shoes.
“Great guns!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got your finger on the right button, Dick! That was a point that bothered me tremendously—why three men should try such a foolhardy thing as making an attack on a submarine with a full complement below decks. Now I understand, and the whole situation clears. Tolo and his companions stole up alongside of us to put a bomb somewhere about the hull of the Grampus. By luck, Glennie went on deck in time to frustrate the design. By Jove, but it was another narrow escape!”
“Once in a while,” Dick replied, with a grin, “I blunder on something that’s worth telling.”
“I should say so!”
“Excellent reasoning, Mr. Ferral!” approved Glennie.