The sun grew hotter and hotter. From the whirring of winches and the clanking rattle of chains that was borne shoreward from time to time, Ned knew that the work of mine-laying was still going on. The work he had been sent to report!

What would be thought of him by his superiors? He felt that it was doubtful if they would believe his story, even supposing he ever got back to his ship and was able to tell it.

He wondered what his captors meant to do with him. Reasoning it out, he had not much fear that they would attempt any desperate course, but they were certain to place him where he could not give the alarm and cause their pursuit before they had had an opportunity to get clear away.

[Pg 129]

Mingled with these reflections came others. Ned speculated vainly as to how long this treachery had been going on. Probably for some time; Kenworth's note book appeared well filled. Doubtless he had become disgusted with what he deemed the unfair treatment accorded him in the navy, and had fallen an easy prey to the foreign agents who are constantly trying to discover for their countries the secrets of Uncle Sam's coast defenses and naval arrangements.

But it is rarely indeed that there is found in either branch of the service men who have fallen low enough to co?perate with these fellows. From time to time, though, such dastards are found and promptly weeded out. There was no doubt but that Kenworth belonged to the latter class.

"I wonder if Rankin does, also," thought Ned. "He was a friend of Kenworth's. It's natural he should be mixed up in his nefarious schemes and plots."

[Pg 130]

It must have been well after noon when Kenworth reported that the tug had finished her work and was going back.

"Then we go 'way," decided Saki. "Me plenty hungry. Bimeby when get dark we come back and keep you company, Honorable Strong."

"Yes, don't be afraid we'll forget you," sneered Kenworth, putting up his note book; "you've suddenly become important in my eyes."

Bestowing a parting kick on Ned's helpless form, the miserable traitor followed Saki off across the sand hills. Ned turned his eyes and watched them as they went.

So they were going to leave him there on the parching sand till nightfall, and then——

"Ned, old boy, you're sure in a bad fix," said the captive lad to himself. "There's not a chance on earth of getting away from here, and even if I could, I have failed in my mission."

The thought that he had not accomplished the duty laid out for him pained the Dreadnought[Pg 131] Boy far more than the contemplation of his predicament. With Ned, and with Herc, too, devotion to their ideals of duty was almost a religion. It is so with most of Uncle Sam's Jackies. But, as we know, a few black sheep are bound to crop up in every fold. Ned thought grimly that he had certainly encountered his share.

The sun beat down hotter and hotter upon the boy. Its rays burned his eyes. His lips were swollen, his every bone aching. The tortures of his thirst had almost reached the point of delirium.

Suddenly he felt an acute pain upon his hand. It stung like the thrust of a red-hot knife.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Ned, and rolled over a little.

The pain ceased, and the next instant he discovered what had caused it. His binoculars had been laid upon a rock, one of a few that cropped out here and there in the arid s............