It was in the brig, between decks on the "Hudson," that Sam Truax was spending his time, the only prisoner then in confinement.
Truax, since his arrest in the submarine's engine room, had had plenty of time to think matters over.
He had been doing a good deal of thinking, too, yet thought had by no means improved the fellow's temper.
On a stool in the corner sat Truax, his scowling, sullen face turned towards the barred door when the marine outside, taking a turn, peered in.
"Good heavens, man! What ails you?" demanded the marine.
"I'm all right," growled the prisoner.
"I'll be hanged if you look it!" was the marine's emphatic answer.
"What are you talking about?" demanded the prisoner, angrily.
"Man alive, I wish you could see your face!"
"I could if this place were fitted with a mirror," sneered Sam Truax.