"Don't you want your cane?" called Jack Benson. Drummond did not
condescend to answer, so the submarine boy slipped back to the tree,
where he found the stick. It was a handsome piece of polished partridge
wood, surmounted by a handsomely wrought head of gold.

"This will make an interesting souvenir to keep aboard the boat," mused
Benson, swinging the stick as he continued his walk.

At the veranda Jack came face to face with Mlle. Nadiboff, just returning
from an unaccompanied stroll down by the water front. To the submarine
boy's astonishment the handsome Russian greeted him most amiably.

"You have not forgotten old friends, I hope, my Captain?" she added,
smiling and with a pretty little coaxing way.

"There are some old friends," replied Captain Jack, lifting his cap,
"whom it is impossible to forget."

"I hope you will continue to regard me as a friend," responded Mlle.
Nadiboff, more seriously, looking him fully in the eyes.

"Why?" queried Jack.

"I may need a friend," she replied, dropping her glance for a moment.

"You in need of anything--even a friend?" cried Captain Jack,
incredulously.

"I may need a friend who can speak a good word for me; who can forget