"What's up? What's the matter?" demanded old Sam.
"Golly gracious, wha's happened now?" gasped Rosewater.
"More misfortunes," said Tom, with a quaver in his voice. "Those rascals have trapped Mr. Ironsides on board their craft and have imprisoned us on the submarine."
Old Sam whistled.
"Phew! We are in a fine fix, now. What do you suppose they mean to do with us?"
"I have not the least idea. Maybe they hardly know themselves. I guess all they wish to do is to keep us from informing the police of their rascality."
"Humph! Much good it would do, if all police were like the Rockport crowd," commented the professor. "What the scoundrels need after them is a detachment of Secret Service men."
"I wish we could notify them somehow. But it doesn't look as if we could do anything now but await the outcome of the rascals' plans," sighed Jeff.
"Dem fellers would look mighty hansum decoratin' some trees," put in Rosewater indignantly.
"Well, I guess they have made up their minds what to do," said Tom presently. "See, there goes Captain Rangler and those other two rascals back on board the tug."