adventures; and he was not obliged to "draw the long bow"; for the
experiences of him and his three friends had been exciting indeed.

Mr. Rosenmeyer had become as thoroughly patriotic as he once had been
pro-German. It was a great cross to him now that he could not learn to
speak English properly. But German names he abhorred and German signs he
would no longer allow in the store. He even put a newly-printed sign
over the sauerkraut barrel which read: "Liberty Cabbage."

Into the store on a misty morning rolled Frenchy Donahue in his most
pronounced Old Salt fashion. Frenchy had acquired such a sailorish roll
to his walk, that Al Torrance hinted more than once that the Irish lad
could not get to sleep at night now that he was ashore until his mother
went out and threw several buckets of water against his bedroom window.

"Hey, Ikey! what you think?" called Frenchy. "Channel bass are running.
Whistler and Torry are going out in the _Sue Bridger_. What d'you know
about that? Bridger's let 'em have his cat for the day. Never was known
to do such a thing before," and Frenchy chuckled. "Oh, boy! aren't we
having things soft just now? Want to go fishing, Ikey?" Ikey favored his
friend with a sly wink, but only said crisply:

"I don't know about it. I was going to wash the store windows. Where are
Whistler and Torry going?"

"As far as Blue Reef. They say the bass are schoolin' out there."

"They'd better be on the lookout for subs, as far out as the Reef," Ikey
said solemnly. "I don't believe they've got this coast half patrolled.
We don't often see one of those chasers in the cove here."