suddenly put his hand upon his chum's arm.

"Hold on, Torry," he said earnestly. "I bet that's one of the guards
now. See that fellow in the bushes over there?"

"I see the man you mean!" Frenchy exclaimed, leaning over the back of
the front seat of the automobile. "But he isn't in khaki. And he hasn't
got a gun."

All the Navy boys in the automobile, even Seven Knott, saw the man to
whom Whistler Morgan had first drawn attention. The man had his back to
the road. He was standing upright with a pair of field glasses to his
eyes. His interest seemed fixed on a point along the face of the dam
just where a thin slice of water ran over the flashboard into the rocky
bed of the river.




CHAPTER II

THE STRANGER


For the life of him Phil Morgan could not have told why he was so keenly
interested in that stranger. He could not see the man's face; he did not
presume it was anybody he had ever seen before; nor had he any reason to
be suspicious of the man.

Nevertheless he felt a little thrill as he first caught sight of the