THE OLD SLOUCH HAT.

"I'm a dunderhead, all right," Glennie cheerfully admitted when they were all in the periscope room with the prisoner, lashed hand and foot, lying before them. "I saw this rascal try a ju-jutsu trick on Carl, in an attempt to break his arm, and yet I never suspected that he was a Japanese, let alone Tolo!"

"It's plain enough now, isn't it, Glennie?" queried Matt. "These yellow men are always hard to identify, but this fellow is certainly Ah Sin, otherwise Tolo. Notice how closely his hair is clipped. He had to have a close haircut when he got into his Chinese disguise. All the rest of those make-believe savages had long hair."

"I wonder where the rascals came from? Their steamer wasn't anywhere in sight."

"It's tucked away among the islands. This, you know, is a peaceable country, and the Japs would have to be wary in carrying out their designs upon the Grampus. I'll bet those fellows know all about our route, and what ports we expect to call at. It was easy for them to get into the mouth of the Amazon ahead of us, and then wait for us to come along."

A sudden idea occurred to Glennie, and he went down on his knees and began searching the Jap. Inasmuch as the only garment the Jap wore was a short kirtle, the search did not consume much time. Glennie got up disappointedly.

"The packet isn't there, eh?" asked Matt.

"No."

"He was probably wise enough to leave it on the steamer."

"Where it has already been opened, no doubt, by the leader of these Sons of the Rising Sun. I'm in as deep as ever, and the capture of Tolo hasn't helped me."

The dejection in Glennie's voice was too pronounced to be passed over.

"Don't take it so hard," urged Matt. "Go to Mr. Brigham, in Para, and tell him the whole story. Perhaps a way can be found to make Tolo talk."

"We'll try him now," said Glennie, a flash of forlorn hope crossing his face. "Why do you want to treat me like this, Tolo?" he queried, addressing the prisoner.

"What I do I do for Nippon," was the slow answer. "Banzai, Nippon!"

"Panzai!" exclaimed Carl. "Dot's a funny vay to yell hooray, ain'd it? Panzai! Ach, du lieber!"

"You stole my dispatches, there in La Guayra," went on Glennie, still addressing himself to the prisoner. "What sort of way was that to treat me?"

"For Nippon," muttered Tolo; "all is for Nippon, for my beloved country."

"Nippon!" grunted Carl. "Vy don'd he say Chapan, like a vite feller? My, sooch a savageness as some nations haf!"

"What did you do with those dispatches?" demanded Glennie.

"I will say nothing," answered Tolo, with careful emphasis.

"Your country will be held to account for this, proceeded Glennie severely.

"My country has nothing to do with it. I am a Son of the Rising Sun, and I should like to die for my country. If my hands were free, and I had a sword, then—hari-kiri! It is pleasant to kill oneself for one's country."

"Guff!" growled Dick. "Hear him talk—and all for effect."

"You're wrong, Dick," said Matt. "The poor fellow means every word he says."

"Und he say dot it vas bleasant to tie for vone's country!" murmured Carl. "I don'd agree mit dot. I vould radder lif for my gountry. A deadt hero don't amoundt to nodding, aber a live feller iss aple to do t'ings vat count. Yah, so helup me! Id iss pedder to lif for vone's gountry as to tie for id."

"There's a whole lot of sense in that, Mr. Pretzel," said Glennie.

"T'ank you for nodding," returned Carl, with mock politeness. "I know dot pefore you shpeak id oudt, Misder Glennie."

The ensign looked at Carl in a disappointed way, for it must have been plain to him that he wasn't breaking the ice any, so far as Carl and Dick were concerned.

"You pretended to be Ah Sin just so you could get aboard this boat, and destroy it, didn't you?" Glennie pursued, still focusing his attention on the prisoner.

"I am saying nothing," was the reply in calm, even tones.

"Why did you and your companions make an attack on this boat?" put in Matt curiously.

There was no response.

"You three didn't think you could take her away from the lot of us, did you?"

Still no answer, merely a cool, passive glance.

"You can't rattle him, matey," put in Dick, "nor get him to say anything that's incriminating. He's Tolo, hard and fast, and it's not so queer why he and his two comrades hove alongside of us. They were engaged in some quiet work, and when Mr. Glennie went on deck, according to your orders, he interrupted them and sprung a fight where no fight was intended."

"Now, Dick," said Matt whimsically, "you're the deep one. Just what do you mean by that?"

"Suppose there was a bomb in that dugout," continued Dick; "and suppose those fellows fastened it to the side of the Grampus, fired the fuse, and then paddled silently away. What would have happened. Will dynamite cause damage sideways as well as up and down?"

Matt gave a startled jump—a jump that caused his wet clothes to rustle, and the water to slosh around in his shoes.

"Great spark-plugs!" he exclaimed. "You've got your finger on the right button, Dick! That was a point that bothered me tremendously—why three men should try such a foolhardy thing as making an attack on a submarine with a full complement below decks. Now I understand, and the whole situation clears. Tolo and his companions stole up alongside of us to put a bomb somewhere about the hull of the Grampus. By luck, Glennie went on deck in time to frustrate the design. By Jupiter, but it was another narrow escape!"

"Once in a while," grinned Dick, "I blunder onto something that's worth telling."

"I should say so!"

"Excellent reasoning, Mr. Ferral!" approved Glennie.

The grin left Dick's face on the instant, and a frown took its place. He turned to the periscope abruptly.

Matt was surprised at the depth of feeling which this action on the part of his chum made manifest. Glennie settled back grimly on the locker. Carl began to hum a Dutch song under his breath—and for that Dick and Matt were thankful. If he had sung the song aloud they would have had to throw something at him. A certain Captain Pierce-Plympton, in Belize, had set the fashion, and now, whenever Carl burst into song he had to dodge everything that was handy.

In the embarrassing silence that followed Dick's action, Matt began to take off his shoes and socks.

"I've got to get into something dry," he remarked. "You fellows better make sure Tolo is well lashed, and then take him into Mr. Glennie's room. That, Glennie," Matt added, removing his water-logged coat, "used to be our prison chamber."

"A good place for me, then," observed Glennie, with a side glance at Dick and Carl.

"You might get off the locker a minute," went on Matt. "I've an outfit of clothes somewhere in that long box you're sitting on."

"Pardon me!"

Glennie got up and helped Carl examine the prisoner's bonds. While they were busy with that, Matt began rummaging for his dry clothes. About the first thing he laid hands on was the old slouch hat with its attached queue.

"Wow!" cried Matt. "What did you put this in here for, Carl? It looked like a snake."

With that Matt jerked the hat and queue out of the locker and hurled them across the room.

As he was about to return to the locker again and go on with his rummaging, Matt caught a gleam in the prisoner's eyes that caused him to straighten up and watch Tolo more carefully.

Tolo's gaze was on the hat. For once he was betrayed out of his grim passiveness, and there flamed in his eyes something unusual—and significant, to Matt.

The king of the motor boys studied Tolo's face keenly. The Jap's eyes continued to rest on the hat until he saw that Matt was watching him, then the eyes turned away absently and lost their telltale gleam.

"Vat's der madder mit der feller?" muttered Carl. "He seemed to vake oop, for a minid, und now he iss like he alvays iss. Vat ails him?"

"Queer he took on that sort of look all of a sudden," mused Glennie.

"Probably he t'ought oof somet'ing mit a bomb in id," suggested Carl. "I moof ve tie somet'ing heafy aboudt his neck und make him shvim agross der Amazon. Hey?"

No one seconded Carl's suggestion. Matt arose, walked over to the hat and queue, and picked them up. Tolo paid no attention, or did not seem to.

With the old slouch hat in his hand Matt sat down on a stool and began feeling of the crown with his fingers.

"Vat's dot for?" chirped Carl.

"I tell you," said Dick, "our old raggie has still got a twisted brain. Tolo's coffee is continuing to have its effect."

Matt laughed, suddenly turned the old hat over, tore out the lining, and pulled forth a crumpled envelope, closed with a red seal.

Glennie gave a yell.

"My dispatches!"

And, with that, he staggered across the small room, grabbed the envelope, and waved it above his head.

"My dispatches!" he repeated, his voice husky.

"I thought so," said Matt. "They have been in that old slouch hat, in the locker, ever since we made that dive to get away from the Japs."

"Und I pud dem dere," remarked Carl pompously. "How mooch iss id vort'?"