"Yes," came a hoarse answer.

"What's wrong?"

"Run to Farnum--quick!"

"You're a liar, whoever you are!" retorted Jack, putting himself in
motion after the fugitive. "You're not Hal Hastings--nor yet Eph
Somers!"

The race was a spirited one. The fugitive ran splendidly, gamely, but
Jack Benson's wind had had a long rest, and now he was in the pink of
condition for sprinting.

So, ere three hundred feet had been covered, the young submarine boy
made a flying leap that carried him onto the shoulders of the fugitive
down went both to earth.

"Now, hold quiet, will you, or shall I have to pummel your face out of
any human likeness?" demanded Jack.

"Oh, Jack! Jack Benson! That you?" shouted the wondering voice of
Jacob Farnum.

"Yes, and I've got some fellow who's masquerading in _our_ uniform!" yelled
Captain Jack.

Jacob Farnum had succeeded in hurling Don Melville away from him, and
now the all but exhausted boatbuilder came through the forest with