PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER.

"That," said Matt, "is a bomb. While I lay on the floor, all but helpless, the disguised Jap set fire to the fuse and planted the bomb in the corner."

Glennie stared aghast. Carl mumbled to himself, and very carefully returned the bomb to the place where he had found it.

"He vas a plackguard!" growled Carl, backing away from the bomb and shaking his fist at it. "Der sgoundrel vould haf plowed us py some smidereens. I don'd like Chaps any more as I do shinks."

"You must be mistaken!" gasped Glennie. "Either that, or else Tolo is a madman! Why, the explosion of that bomb would have wrecked the submarine and killed us all."

The ensign shuddered.

"It would have been barbarous!" he went on, worked up by the enormity of the crime that had been planned. "As an act of war, it would have been savage enough, in all conscience, but here we are at peace with all the world, and under the protection of Old Glory!"

"I can't help that, Glennie," said Matt grimly. "We've got to take the facts as we find them. I managed to get hands on the revolver you dropped, and had strength enough to fire one shot. The bullet missed its mark, and Tolo jumped up and started for me. But I guess the revolver scared him off, for he whirled around before he got very close and darted up the conning-tower ladder."

"He left the fuse burning?"

"Yes; and evidently expected a blow-up."

"Why wasn't there a blow-up?"

"Well, the coffee that had got me into trouble got us all out of it. I fell, knocked over a stool, the stool knocked over the cup, and the coffee was spilled out and flowed over the burning fuse."

"That's the most remarkable thing I ever heard!" declared Glennie.

"Modor Matt's luck," chuckled Carl. "I vould radder be mit Matt, und haf a biece oof his luck, dan any blace vat I know. Ven he has some goot fordunes, he has to pass dem aroundt to der fellers vat iss mit him—vich means me, for I vas alvays aroundt."

"Go on, Mr. King," said Glennie. "What happened after that?"

Matt, attending to his steering and keeping an eye on the periscope, told how he had lost consciousness for a few moments, had revived, lashed the wheel, and climbed to the hatch. The rest, including how he, Dick, and Speake had made a dive for safety, came rapidly and in the fewest possible words.

"From all of which it appears," remarked Glennie quietly, when the recital was done, "that we owe our lives to Motor Matt. But I can't understand this Tolo business. Why was he playing the part of a chink?"

"So you wouldn't know him," said Matt, "and so he could still be with you."

"But what was the use?"

"That seems plain," went on Matt, wondering a little at the ensign's failure to see the game that had been attempted. "As I figure it, Mr. Glennie, there is a Japanese secret society consisting of a number of misguided young men who call themselves Sons of the Rising Sun. Their government does not sanction their acts, and presumably knows nothing about them. These Independent Protectors of the Kingdom have heard of this wonderful submarine ship invented by Captain Nemo, Jr., and they are well fitted to understand its possibilities in time of war."

"Granting all that, just what has it to do with the actions of Tolo?"

"I'm coming to that. Tolo, I take it, is a member of the Young Samurai Society. No doubt the society has had spies in Central and South America. These spies reported that the Grampus had been sold to the United States Government, conditional upon her making a safe passage around the Horn and up the western coast to Mare Island. I don't suppose that the Sons of the Rising Sun were at all pleased with this information. They are enthusiasts, and probably don't care a rap for their own lives, or for the lives of any other people, so long as they can do a good stroke of work for Nippon."

"But Tolo," put in the ensign impatiently, "what of him?"

"Probably, too," continued Matt, "it was known that the Seminole had dropped you at La Guayra, and that you were to accompany the submarine on her long cruise. Tolo was commissioned to watch you, get aboard the submarine if possible, make sketches, and then destroy her."

"But do you consider what a crime that amounts to? That it is virtually an act of war and might embroil two countries?"

"It is an act of piracy, Mr. Glennie. The steamer from which the Japs came was not flying the Japanese flag, nor any other flag, so far as I could see. They're working on their own hook."

"Then they are liable to be caught and punished by their own government!"

"Of course; but the Sons of the Rising Sun have the bit in their own teeth and are going their own pace. I'll bet something handsome they'd sacrifice their steamer and their own lives, into the bargain, if they could be sure of destroying the Grampus. The Japs are fanatics on the subject of patriotism—everybody knows that. But to go on with Tolo. He hired out to you, found a chance to steal your dispatches, and thought advisable to take them. Probably he thought they contained information of value to the Young Samurai. After that he disguised himself as a Chinaman—not a difficult task for a Jap—and called on us in the harbor at Port-of-Spain. He was cunning enough to hand you that yarn about knowing Tolo, and to hang out regarding the fifty dollars so that he could get you to take him down the coast to the Amazon. On the way, Tolo was snooping around and learning all he could about the boat. The blowing up of the gasolene tank was probably an accident, but mixing water with our fuel was done with a purpose."

"What purpose?"

"To delay us, and make it possible for the steamer to come near. This morning Tolo must have heard how we had narrowly escaped running the steamer down during the night, and I am sure he knew the steamer was hanging around our course just before he went down to get breakfast. He had come aboard the Grampus equipped with his bomb and his drugs, and it's a wonder his scoundrelly plans did not carry. Of course," Matt added, after a long silence, "I am only putting two and two together, and making a guess. The guess may be close to the truth, or wide of it, but that's the way I size up the facts that have come to us."

"You haf hit der nail righdt on der headt, py chiminy!" declared Carl. "Der Sons oof der Rising Sun vas afder us, aber dey vill findt dot ve don'd vas ashleep. Ve're a leedle punch oof badriots ourseluf, you bed you, und an American feller has got id ofer der Chap like anyding."

Carl puffed out his chest and slapped his wishbone.

"I am sure you have made a good guess, Mr. King," said Glennie, "and the way you have argued the thing out is mighty convincing. It shows us what we're up against during this cruise, and I'm wondering why the captain of the Seminole didn't tip me off."

"It's likely he didn't know anything about these Sons of the Rising Sun," replied Matt. "We've only been able to get a line on them by facing considerable danger, and taking a lot of hard knocks."

"Ven dose leedle fellers whipped Rooshia," put in Carl, "dey got puffed oop like I can't tell. Dere iss some chips on deir shoulters all der time now, und they ought to be knocked off."

"Don't make a common mistake, Mr. Pretzel," cautioned Glennie. "The Japanese Government has always been a good friend of the United States, and——"

"Der handt vat dey holdt oudt to us iss der gladt handt," interrupted Carl, "und der odder vat dey haf pehind deir pack iss toupled oop und ready to shtrike! Yah, so helup me!"

"There are hotheads in Japan just as there are in our own country," proceeded Glennie; "but both governments are on friendly terms and will always be so. The mikado's government doesn't know what these Sons of the Rising Sun are doing, so what happens is just a little private war between them and us, with the Grampus as the bone of contention."

"Vell," and Carl wagged his head decidedly, "ve got our teet' on der pone und dey can't shake us loose."

"That's right," laughed Matt.

"Mr. Pretzel is a jingo," said Glennie. "But what am I to do about those dispatches?"

"We'll go right on to the Amazon and Para. When we get there, Mr. Glennie, I'd advise you to make a clean breast of everything to Mr. Brigham. Perhaps he can help you get hold of the papers in some way."

The ensign shook his head gloomily.

"I see what will happen to me," he muttered, "but I guess I can face the music, all right. I'm sorry for the governor, though, when the news gets to Boston."

At this moment Speake came in and began clearing up the scattered tin dishes that had been used in serving the morning meal. He reported Gaines and Clackett as feeling all right, and actively engaged in their duties.

Matt ordered the ballast tanks emptied so as to bring the submarine within a dozen feet of the surface. At this depth the periscope ball cleared the waves, the automatic valves opened, and those in the periscope room were able to take a look at the surface of the sea. The steamer was nowhere in sight—there was not even a smudge of smoke on the horizon.

The Grampus was lifted further until the conning tower was clear of the waves. Speake took the wheel, Matt studied the chart and gave him the course and then turned in for a little sleep. Dick and Carl likewise sought a little rest; and while the king of the motor boys and his chums slept, the submarine plowed onward toward Brazil at a swift pace.