“You don’t believe anything of the sort,” Dalzell laughed; “you know it.”
“All right, then,” sighed Darrin, good-humoredly, putting away the official envelope in an inner pocket.
“Then you’re going with me?”
“Yes, sir, and right into the jaws of whatever mystery you have arranged for me,” Dave said.
“Mighty glad of it,” cried Danny Grin, gripping his chum’s hand again. “I don’t believe you’ll be sorry either. It’s a humorous adventure on which you and I are going to embark.”
“If there’s any humor to be found in this great, grim war,” Dave retorted, “then it will prove a most welcome relief from the kind of work that has been holding our attention.”
Dave had already cleaned up all matters relating to the transfer of command on the “Logan.” Hence there was nothing to hinder his departure by train at daylight the morning following. For two hours the chums rode, then alighted at a port town so small that its name is never heard on this side of the water.
Within five minutes the two young naval officers, carrying their worn-looking suit-cases, reached the water-front. Dan’s heavier baggage had gone on ahead and Dave carried none beyond what his suit-case contained.
The harbor was a small one. Dave had seen it all ere they reached one of the three small wharves of which the water-front boasted.
“Humph!” he remarked. “So you must wait for your ship to come in?”