As they gained the deck of the Sub Chaser they were confronted by a young ensign in the uniform of Uncle Sam’s navy. He regarded them keenly, then offered his hand to Mr. Temple.

“It seems we came just in time,” said he. “A bit later and we would have had difficulty in locating you in the fog. As it was, we got your position through the glasses before the fog closed down. Did they set you adrift?”

“No, we broke away of our own volition, in a way of speaking,” said Mr. Temple. “But explanations can come later. My name is Temple, George Temple of New York. This is Doctor Marley, and these young men are my son Bob and his chums, Jack Hampton and Frank Merrick.”

“And mine is Arthur Warwick,” said the other, acknowledging the introductions, “Ensign Arthur Warwick, U. S. N., at your service. Let us go to my quarters.”

Turning, he led the way with Mr. Temple beside him and the others following, under the gaze of a number of American sailors scattered about.

“Are you going to stick to the trail of the trawler?” queried Mr. Temple.

“We shall try to,” said the other. “Although if this fog continues long, our chance of success will be small. We were heading for the S. S. Bear, a north-bound coast liner, to take off Inspector Burton of the Secret Service, when your radio caught us and faced us about. Now, from what Mr. Merrick said over the radio, I fancy we had better stick to this trawler as long as there is a chance of capturing her. If we miss her, I shall speed up to catch the Bear. Meantime, I have given orders to slow down with muffled engines, so that if we hear the trawler in the fog we stand a better chance. Let us go below, for I want to hear your story in greater detail.”

In the tight little cabin of the Sub Chaser they were considerably crowded, but by disposing themselves as compactly as possible all found room. Then Mr. Temple and the boys told their story. It took considerable time in the telling, for Ensign Warwick asked so many questions they were compelled to begin at the very beginning of things with Frank’s overhearing the words dropped by “Black George” on the train.

Ensign Warwick nodded warmly many times during the course of the narrative, evidently in high approval of the courage and resource shown by the boys. He himself was a young man, not more than twenty-five, tall as Bob and of much the same deep-chested frame with tanned face in which twinkled honest blue eyes that impressed the chums favorably.

“You fellows certainly have been having a lot of fun,” he said, half enviously, half laughingly. “While here am I with nothing exciting to brighten things for me since the war ended.”

“Were you on the other side?” asked Frank eagerly. “Golly, how I wanted to go over, but Uncle George said I was too young.”

Warwick nodded.

“I was on convoy duty,” said he, “and had several brushes with German submarines. I was torpedoed twice, and once sunk a sub.”

The three chums regarded him with the greatest interest.

“Just now,” he continued, “I’ve been loaned to the Secret Service. Left San Pedro harbor only yesterday morning to report to Inspector Burton at Santa Barbara. Evidently he had boarded the Bear at that port, however, and then changed his mind about going north, for he radioed me to take him off.”

A rap on the door interrupted and Ensign Warwick called an order to enter. A sailor stood in the doorway, coming smartly to salute.

“Fog’s not lifting, sir,” he said. “And no sound to indicate the trawler. Your orders to report in an hour, sir.”

“Right, Farrell,” answered Ensign Warwick. “You may go.”

The young sailor withdrew.

“How far down the coast are we now, Ensign?” asked Frank. “Murphy gave me our bearings aboard the trawler, so I could radio them to you. But I have no idea where that is on the map. We had been trying to compute the distance we traveled from San Francisco, but when we awoke this morning the trawler’s engines were still, and I don’t know how long she had lain there. You spoke of Santa Barbara. Are we near that point?”

“About fifty or sixty miles west-north-west,” said the naval officer. He rose. “Shall we go on deck? In this weather I ought to be there.”

They followed him from the cabin.

“Say, Bob,” said Frank, as the pair dropped behind, “wouldn’t it be fun to take a cruise aboard this Sub Chaser in pursuit of ‘Black George’s’ gang?”

“Great.”

“I mean not just after the trawler. Probably we’ll lose her in this fog. But to go on a regular expedition, maybe to nose out the smugglers’ rendezvous, maybe clear down into Mexican waters?”

“Great,” agreed Bob again.

“Well, we’ve already had considerable fun out of this,” declared Jack, joining them and leaving Mr. Temple and Doctor Marley to continue with the naval officer.

“Haven’t we, though,” agreed Frank. “Why, when we get back to Harrington Hall in the fall, and tell the fellows about this——”

“And about our Mexican border adventures, too,” supplemented Jack.

“Huh. They’ll think we’re awful liars,” said Bob.

All three laughed.

Mr. Temple turned and beckoned to them to approach.

“We are going to turn about and make a run for the Bear,” he said. “Ensign Warwick believes this fog will not lift for some time, and that the trawler has pretty well given us the slip.”

“Well, he’s in command,” said Frank, ruefully, “but I did hope we’d capture the trawler. I don’t care so much about capturing ‘Black George,’ although it’s a pity to let him slip through our fingers. But, do you realize that we’re not very presentable for polite society? I’d like to recover our wardrobes.”

For the first time it was borne in upon them that Mr. Temple, Bob and Frank were, indeed, scantily clad, and that most of their possessions were aboard the trawler. In their haste to act quickly in seizing the radio room, all but Jack had set forth clad only in shirt and trousers. They were even without shoes. In their excitement theretofore, none had thought of this.

“Fortunately, they did not take my wallet,” said Mr. Temple, pulling it from a pocket, and examining the contents. “I have plenty of money here, so that as soon as we reach port somewhere we can send Jack ashore to buy us some clothing.”

“We’re a fine-looking bunch of thugs, now, though, Dad,” said big Bob. “You and I both need a shave badly. Frank and Jack have such light whiskers, you can’t tell whether they’ve shaved or not.”

This was a cruel thrust at which Bob’s two chums bridled. Bob’s whiskers were heavy, and he had been shaving for years. Frank and Jack, however, only recently had taken on man’s estate in this respect.

“Some folks are proud of being hairy as an ape,” said Frank cuttingly.

Big Bob merely laughed good-naturedly, and ruffled his smaller chum’s hair.

Ensign Warwick with difficulty suppressed a grin.

“I can let you have razors,” he said, “and probably we can find shoes for all of you of some sort. But I have no civilian clothes, and it would be against regulations for you to wear uniforms.”

“Good thing the weather’s warm,” said Bob.

“Say, I have an idea,” cried Frank. “Suppose I call Inspector Burton on your radio, Ensign, and ask him to see if he can’t dig us up some clothes aboard the Bear. He knows us well enough to estimate our size, and, of course, I can give him further specifications.”

“Go ahead,” said the naval officer. “I planned to call him, anyhow, to report why we were delayed.”

“Good idea, Frank,” approved Mr. Temple, who did not relish the prospect of going any longer than necessary clad as he was. “Tell him I’ll pay any price within reason for good outer clothing.”

“You see,” said Frank, starting away, “he may not want to put into any port for some time, and then we’d be out of luck.”

“But you will be going aboard the Bear, won’t you?” said Ensign Warwick. “I hadn’t thought of that before, but, of course, that will be the thing for you to do. Then you can return to San Francisco.”

The three boys glanced at each other in dismay.