Kennedy and I were able, now, to move faster than they. As we came
in sight of the wharf, Kennedy paused.

"There they are, two of them," he indicated.

I could just make them out in their hiding-place. The fellow who
had stolen the torpedo was by this time so weak from loss of blood
that he could hardly hold his head up, while the other hurried to
fix-the smoke signal. He happened to glance up, and saw us.

"Come, Red, brace up," he muttered. "They're on our trail."

The wounded man was almost too weak to answer. "I--I can't," he
gasped weakly, "You--go." Then, with a great effort, remembering
the mission on which he had been sent, he whispered hoarsely, "I
hid the second torpedo model in the Dodge house in the bottom of--
" He tried hard to finish, but he was too weak. He fell back,
dead.

His pal had waited as long as he dared to learn the secret. He
jumped up and ran out just as we burst into the hiding-place.

Kennedy dropped down by the dead man and searched him, while I
dashed after the other fellow. But I was not so well acquainted
with the lay of the land as he and, before I knew it, he had
darted into another of his numerous hiding-places. I hunted about,
but I had lost the track.

When I returned, I found Kennedy writing a hasty note.