THE SETTING OF A TRAP.

"I've just received a telegram that a freight wreck has tied up our new motors and spare aeroplane parts at Bartonville," said Lieutenant De Frees, one afternoon a few days after Ned's adventures with the pontoon-fitted aeroplane.

"Most annoying," responded the ensign with whom he was talking. "We need them in a hurry, too."

"That's so. I guess I'll have to send a couple of men after them. There is a big auto truck at Bartonville. I remember it, because it brought out some stuff for us before. It can easily carry the delayed parts. Strong and Taylor have been working pretty hard lately. I guess a little trip will do them good. I'll send them. At any rate, I'll know I can depend upon them."

"That's right. They are two of the most promising lads I've ever seen. By the way, has anything further ever been heard of those rascals who tried to discredit them?"

"Not a word. But the secret service reports that this man Muller, as he calls himself, is known in Europe as a most dangerous anarchist. The fellow is, in fact, a maniac on the subject."

"Ha! I suppose we can call ourselves lucky that he didn't blow us all up. Those anarchist chaps are bitterly opposed to all navies and armies, and some of the worst of them have even attempted to destroy transatlantic liners."

"Yes, I read in the paper the other day about an infernal machine having been found among the cargo of a large vessel just as she was about to sail for Europe. By the way, of course you heard about the clever manner in which Strong and Taylor prevented the destruction of the submarine?"

"I did hear something about it, but not the full story, I fancy. Would you mind telling it?"

"Not in the least. But first let me send for Strong and Taylor. I'll despatch them on their errand at once. They will have to get a rig and drive over. Bartonville is ten miles away, and they may experience some delay when they arrive there."

Thus it came about that that afternoon Ned and Herc found themselves in Bartonville, registered as guests at the Bartonville House. As the lieutenant had anticipated, they experienced some delay in getting permission to transship the goods from the delayed freight train. But the magic word "Navy" soon smoothed out all obstacles. It would be necessary for them to wait till the following day, however, before finishing up their business. Ned's first duty was to send a telegram to Lieutenant De Frees to that effect. In return he received orders for both Herc and himself to remain and see the business through.

"Well," grinned Herc, as the two lads sat in the lobby of the hotel in soft leather-upholstered chairs, "this is certainly solid comfort for a pair of petty officers."

"It's a long cry from here to the forecastle of the Manhattan, and that's a fact," admitted Ned. "But somehow I'd rather be on duty than lounging around here."

"Oh, bother duty," blurted out Herc, "when first we entered the navy, it was always duty—although that duty was mostly scrubbing decks, painting and cleaning brasswork. And now it's duty still, and——"

"So it will be to the end, old fellow," said Ned seriously. "Everyone in the navy has his duty to attend to, too. Wasn't it attention to duty that won Manila Bay, and duty that took Farragut—— Great Scott!"

The lads had been sitting facing the street near a big plate glass window. The sight that had brought Ned to his feet with such a sharp exclamation was the momentary glimpse of a familiar face passing on the street.

"Wait here for me for a while, Herc," he said. "I'll be back directly."

"What—why?" spluttered Herc, but before he could voice any more interrogations, Ned dashed from the room with the swiftness of a skyrocket, and, jamming his hat on his head, was out of the doors of the hotel in a flash, almost upsetting the porter in his haste. Herc sprang after him, but before he gained the doorway Ned was round the corner and hopelessly lost. Herc retraced his steps to the hotel and resumed his seat.

It was something like an hour later that he heard his name called through the lobby by a bell-boy. He hastened to the desk and the clerk motioned toward an ill-kempt looking man who was standing there.

"Mr. Taylor?" asked this individual.

"That's me," responded the rough-and-ready Herc, with a grin.

"I've a message for you from Mr. Strong," went on the other. "He wishes you to come to him at once."

Herc's suspicions were aroused in an instant. Perhaps this was a trap of some sort. He resolved to be cautious.

"Where is he?" he asked.

The man beckoned him to one side.

"I don't want everybody to hear our business," he said. "Your chum has succeeded in locating that rascally band of Muller's. They are at a place on the outside of the town. You and I will go to him in a hack, that was his message."

The man seemed sincere, but Herc was still inclined to doubt him.

"Where did you meet my shipmate?" he asked.

"Why, I'm a fisherman on the headwaters of the bay that runs up into Bartonville," was the rejoinder, with every appearance of frankness. "Your chum didn't want to leave the place where he had spotted the band, so he sent me after you and told me that you'd give me some money for my trouble."

This request for money lulled Herc's suspicions at once. Had the man not asked for it, the thing might have looked suspicious, but the fact that he expected to be rewarded for coming with the message seemed to indicate that he was honest and above board. But he had one more question to ask.

"Wouldn't it be a good plan to notify the police?" he said.

"He told me to do that," replied the man. "I stopped in at the station on the way up, and a patrol-wagon full of cops has started. We'll have to go fast to catch them."

Herc searched his pockets. But, as luck would have it, he could not find more than a few bits of silver. But the boys on their arrival had deposited in the hotel safe the money entrusted to them to pay their expenses, and also to defray the charges on the freighted goods. Herc recollected this, and thinking that it might be a good plan to have some money along, he withdrew a considerable part of their funds. Had he caught the glitter in the man's eyes, he would have been warned.

"Now, I'm ready," he said, as he thrust the money into his breast pocket.

"All right, guv'ner," was the response, "the carriage is right outside."

Herc, following his conductor, soon found himself inside a closed hack drawn by two horses. The messenger said something to the coachman and then threw himself in beside Herc. The carriage at once moved off at a rapid pace. Bartonville was not a very large place, and the town and its scattering outskirts were speedily left behind. The carriage began to roll and bump along over country roads.

"How far off is the place?" Herc kept asking, and each time he was assured that it was "only a little way further."

At last the carriage stopped on a deserted bit of roadway.

"Here's where we get out," said Herc's conductor, "we'll have to hike it across that field and through that bit of woods before we get to your pal."

Herc paid the coachman and the man at once drove off.

"This way," said the man, climbing over a rail fence and striking off across a field, on the further side of which was a patch of ragged woods. Through the trees Herc could catch the glint of water.

It was a lonely spot. He looked about him, but could not see any trace of a human habitation.

"If this should be a trap I'm nicely in it, all right," he muttered to himself as he followed his guide into the shadows of the wood.

"How much further?" he asked, as they stumbled along over the rough path.

"Right ahead down by the creek," said the man. "We're almost there now."

With a few paces more they emerged on the banks of a slow-flowing and muddy creek, which was evidently tidal and joined the Bartonville Bay lower down. About a hundred yards off stood a rickety looking shack, and anchored in the creek opposite to it was a sloop with a red band painted round its bulwarks. Suddenly and for no reason that he could assign, the recollection flashed across Herc that he had heard Ned speak of such a sloop. At the time though he could not recall in what connection.

"Is this the place?" asked Herc, as his guide slackened his pace.

"This is it," nodded the man, and again a sharp presentiment that all was not right, flashed through Herc. But it was too late to hold back now.

"I'll give him the signal," said the man, placing his fingers to his lips. A shrill whistle followed.

As if by magic, from the tall, spiky grass about them, half a dozen men sprang erect.

"It is a trap!" shouted Herc, flinging himself furiously upon the first man who rushed at him. The lad fought valiantly, but the contest was too uneven to last long. Within five minutes, Herc, raging like a lion, and inwardly abusing his own gullibility that had led him into such an ambush, was bound hand and foot and stretched a prisoner on the floor of the old rookery of a shanty.