moment, they were likely to be called into action—to be called upon for
big things.

As Jack and Hal sat in the office, silent, while Jacob Farnum turned to
his desk to scan one of the papers lying there, the door opened. A boy
burst in, waving a yellow envelope.

“Operator said to hustle this wire to you,” shouted the boy, panting a
bit. “Said it might be big news for Farnum. So I ran all the way.”

Jacob Farnum took the yellow envelope, opening it and glancing hastily
through the contents.

“It _is_ pretty good news,” assented the shipbuilder, a smile wreathing
his face. “This is for you, messenger.”

“This” proved to be a folded dollar bill. The messenger took the money
eagerly, then demanded, more respectfully:

“Any answer, sir?”

“Not at this moment, thank you,” replied Mr. Farnum. “That is all; you may
go, boy.”

Plainly the boy who had brought the telegram was disappointed over not
getting some inkling of the secret. All Dunhaven, in fact, was wildly agog
over any news that affected the Farnum yard. For, though the torpedo boat
building industry was now known under the Pollard name, after the inventor
of these boats, the yard itself still went under the Farnum name that
young Farnum had inherited from his father.