A DROP FROM SPACE.

But even in that awful drop through space Ned's nerve did not desert him. His brain worked faster, in the few seconds allowed it to do effective work, than it had ever acted before.

Just as it seemed to those on board the battleship that the lad was doomed—in the event of the pontoons not working—to be drowned in the wreck of the aeroplane, they were astonished to see it recover and rise, from the very wave tips, in a graceful curve.

Straight up it shot—the motor whirring and buzzing deafeningly. Then, without an instant's hesitation, it dropped like a fish hawk toward the stern platform, and a moment later Ned Strong and his aeroplane rested on the solid foundation of the landing stage. The first flight from land to a fighting ship's deck had been successfully performed, with an added thrill thrown in for good measure, as it were.

Before Ned could clamber out of his seat, the officers, assembled to view the test, came crowding up on the platform. The lad was not embarrassed, but he felt a slight sense of shyness, which speedily wore off, as so many dignitaries pressed about him, shaking his hand and congratulating him.

"Jove, lad, but you gave us a fright for a minute!" exclaimed one gray-mustached captain. "I didn't think it possible that a heavier-than-air craft could recover from such a tumble as you took."

"Yes, tell us about it, lad," urged another naval dignitary.

"Well, gentlemen," said Ned, "I guess it was just one of those accidents that will happen in the best-regulated aeroplanes. Something went wrong with the warping appliances, that was all."

"Aren't your nerves shaken?" asked a young officer. "You'd better have a glass of wine."

"Thank you, sir, I never touch alcoholic liquors," rejoined Ned simply. "But I wouldn't mind a glass of water, sir. Flying is rather thirsty work."

An orderly was at once dispatched for a carafe and a glass, and while he was gone Ned obtained leave to locate and repair the break that had come so close to causing him disaster. It was soon found, and a new turnbuckle put on in place of the one that had cracked when a flaw in its construction parted.

By this time every jackie who could find business in the after part of the ship was on the decks below. A sea of faces was upturned to gaze at the flying marvel.

Questions flew thick and fast.

"Would it be possible to carry a sharpshooter, for instance, from the deck of this vessel, circle a hostile craft and return?" asked one of the naval officers standing about.

"I think so, sir," was Ned's response.

"Well, providing you feel there is no danger, why not try such an experiment?" asked Commander Dunham, Ned's old chief officer.

"I should like to, above all things, sir," rejoined Ned, with sparkling eyes; "but who will go?"

"I think you will have no lack of volunteers," smiled Commander Dunham, as half a dozen young ensigns and midshipmen pressed forward. "Mr. Shrike, I think you are as good a subject as any. At any rate, sir, your weight will not seriously embarrass the craft."

Mr. Shrike proved to be an extremely thin young midshipman, whose weight, as Commander Dunham had humorously hinted, was not excessive. In fact, among his intimates he was known as "The Shrimp."

He lost no time in preparing for the ride, providing himself with a light rifle. When all was in readiness, Ned showed him where to sit, and how to hold on, and then, the aeroplane having already been swung about, he started up the engine once more. Several blue-jackets had been detailed to hold the machine back, and at a given signal from Ned they let go. The aeroplane shot from the platform out over the stern of the battleship, and soared out above the sea. As they shot past Old Glory, waving proudly at the stern, Ned saluted with one hand. The young middy at his side followed his example.

The aeroplane took a perilous swoop as she dropped from the platform, but Ned had his craft well in hand. He averted the drop with a quick movement and speedily swung out seaward.

"See, there is a small sloop off there," said Midshipman Shrike presently. "Let's try if we can circle it, just as if it were a hostile vessel."

"Very well, sir," rejoined Ned, and steered straight for a white sail glistening some distance out at sea.

Closer and closer they drew to it, and before long they could see men on its deck pointing upward excitedly.

"They've seen us, anyway," laughed the middy. "Wonder if they think we're some big sort of a gull?"

Suddenly, as they drew closer to the sloop, Ned saw one of the men go in the cabin for a moment and emerge with a gun—or at least something that looked like one.

"Hullo! What's that fellow doing now?" asked Midshipman Shrike, as he saw this. "Is that a gun he has there, Strong?"

"Looks like it, sir," rejoined Ned, "and he's——"

"Aiming at us, by Jove! Hi, there, you rascal, put that gun down!"

A puff of smoke came simultaneously with the words. It was followed by a screaming sound, as a bullet whizzed past the aerial voyagers. It was followed by another and another, the rifle evidently being a repeater.

"I say, I can't stand this any longer," shrilled the middy, as Ned kept the aeroplane swinging in rapid circles. As he spoke, he jerked the rifle to his shoulder, and, with a cry of "Stop that shooting instantly!" fired a shot across the sloop's bow. Ned could see the white water whipped up as the bullet ricochetted.

But, in firing his weapon, the young officer had released his hold with both hands. At the same instant a puff of wind swung the aeroplane sharply on her beam ends. Ned righted her instantly, but, as he did so, he was horrified to observe that he was alone.

The sharp lurch had dislodged his companion, and below Ned saw him whirling downward. The midshipman's body struck the water close by the sloop and instantly vanished.

With the automatic movements of one in a nightmare, Ned dropped downward. As he did so, he was immensely relieved to see the young officer's head bob up to the surface for an instant. Ned shouted and an answering hail came upward.

"Thank heaven, I've got the pontoons on," he thought.

But even while his mind and body were thus busied, Ned had time to observe the sloop. She had taken advantage of the puff of wind, and was now rapidly slipping off toward a not far distant point of land. Ned's eye took in her every detail. She was black and squat, yet with a certain raciness of line, and heavily canvassed. Round her bulwarks ran a bright crimson line. She bore no name that Ned could see.

The aeroplane struck the water with a splash that threw the spray high above her planes. But the pontoons saved her from being submerged. A moment after she had struck the surface of the water she was floating like a sea-bird on its surface.

"Ahoy, there!" came a hail.

Ned glanced in the direction and saw the young middy striking out boldly for the floating aeroplane.

"Hurt, sir?" demanded Ned.

"Not a bit; the water's fine," was the cheery response. "But, confound it all, I've lost my rifle."

Ned swung the aeroplane round, using the regular aerial propellers to drive her over the water. It was not many minutes before a dripping but cheerful middy was seated once more by his side.

"I say, Strong," he remarked, "I guess the less said about this adventure the better. You understand. I had no business to fire at those chaps on the sloop, as a matter of fact, but I couldn't help it. What do you think they fired at us for?"

"I've no idea, sir," was Ned's reply.

"Guess they were crazy, or had been drinking, or something."

"Possibly that was it, Mr. Shrike." But in the Dreadnought Boy's mind he had reached a far different conclusion. The shots that whistled about them had not been aimed by any irresponsible hand, of that he was sure. They had been aimed to do harm. That they had not succeeded was due to good fortune more than anything else. There were only certain men whom Ned could think of who could be guilty of such an outrage. Those men were the implacable enemies of himself and Herc.

"Better cruise about a bit till I get dried out," said the middy presently. "If they ask us why we dropped like that, I'll say we were trying out the pontoons, eh?"

Ned agreed. He did not countenance untruths or an approach to them, as a rule, but in this case he felt that to tell the whole story might get Midshipman Shrike in trouble, as well as involve him in some difficulties. However, he resolved that if questions were asked, he would tell the truth, as he would then have no other recourse. But, to his relief, no interrogations were put to him, and he supposed that the midshipman had explained the case, as was, indeed, the fact.

Soon after their return, Ned winged back to the shore. Here he was the recipient of more congratulations, but his mind was busy elsewhere than with his signal triumph in aerial navigation. As soon as he got a chance, he sought out Herc. The astonishment of the freckle-faced Dreadnought Boy, on hearing the news, may be imagined.

"Then you are sure that it was Muller and that crowd?" he asked.

"Practically certain," rejoined Ned. "Who else would have done such a thing?"

"Do you think they have some rendezvous in the neighborhood?"

"I'm sure of it. Their possession of the sloop indicates that. I'd like to unearth their hiding-place and put the rascals to rout."

"So would I," agreed Herc, "and maybe we will. At any rate, that sloop should be easy to identify."

"Yes. We'll keep a bright lookout, and perhaps before long we may have something tangible to work on."

That time was to come sooner than they expected.