Kent Brown, when he reached New York on his return trip to Paris in quest of the rather wilful, very irritating, and wholly fascinating Judy, got his money changed into gold, which he placed in a belt worn under his shirt.

“There is no telling what may happen,” he said to the young Kentuckian, Jim Castleman, with whom he had struck up an acquaintance on the train. “Gold won’t melt in the water if we do get torpedoed, and if I have it next me, whoever wants it will have to do some tearing off of clothes to get it. And what will I be doing while they are tearing off my clothes?”

“Good idea! I reckon I’ll do the same—not that I have enough to weigh myself down with.” Castleman was on his way to France to fight.

“I don’t give a hang whether I fight with the English, French, Serbs or Russians, just so I get in a few licks on the Prussians.” He was a strapping youth of six feet three with no more idea of what he was going up against than a baby. War was to him a huge football game and he simply meant to get into the game.

The Hirondelle was a slow boat but sailing immediately, so Kent and his new friend determined to take it, since its destination, Havre, suited them.

“I like the name, too,” declared Kent, who shared with his mother and Molly a certain poetic sentiment in spite of his disclaimer of any such foolishness.

There were very few passengers, the boat being a merchantman. Kent and Jim were thrown more and more together and soon were as confidential as two school girls. Kent had been rather noncommittal in his replies at first to Jim’s questions as to what his business was in the war zone at such a time if it were not fighting. As their friendship grew and deepened, as a friendship can on shipboard in an astonishingly short time, Kent was glad enough to talk about Judy and his mission in Paris.

“She sounds like a corker! When is it to be?”

“I don’t know that it is to be, at all,” blushed Kent. “You see, we are not what you might call engaged.”

“Your fault or hers?”

“Why, we have just drifted along. Somehow I didn’t like to tie her down until I could make good—and she—well, I believe she felt the same way; but of course I can’t say. She knows perfectly well that I have never looked at another girl since I saw her at Wellington when she and my sister graduated there. She has—well,—browsed a little, but I don’t think she ever meant anything by it. We get along like a house afire,—like the same things,—think the same way,—we have never talked out yet.”

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think you were an ass not to settle the matter long before this.”

“Do you think so? Do you think it would have been fair? Why, man, I owed some money to my mother for my education in Paris and did not even have a job in sight!”

“Pshaw! What difference does that make? Don’t you reckon girls have as much spunk about such things as men have? If I ever see the girl I want bad enough to go all the way to Paris to get her, I’ll tell her so and have an answer if I haven’t a coat to my back.”

“Perhaps you are right. I just didn’t want to be selfish.”

“Selfish! Why, they like us selfish.”

Kent laughed at the wisdom of the young Hercules. No doubt they (whoever “they” might be) did like Castleman selfish or any other way. He looked like a young god as he sprawled on deck, his great muscular white arm thrown over his head to keep the warm rays of the sun out of his eyes. His features were large and well cut, his hair yellow and curly in spite of the vigorous efforts he made to brush it straight. His eyes were blue and childlike with long dark lashes, the kind of eyes girls always resent having been portioned out to men. There was no great mentality expressed in his countenance but absolute honesty and good nature. One felt he was to be trusted.

“Doesn’t it seem strange to be loafing around here on this deck with no thought of war and of the turmoil we shall soon be in?” said Jim one evening at sunset when they were nearing their port. “We have only a day, or two days at most, before we will be in Paris, and still it is so quiet and peaceful out here that I can hardly believe there is any other life.”

“Me, too! I feel as though I had been born and bred on this boat. All the other things that have happened to me are like a dream and this life here on the good old Hirondelle de Mer is the only real thing. I wonder if all the passengers feel this way.”

There were no women on board but the other passengers were Frenchmen, mostly waiters from New York, going home to fight for la France. The cargo was pork and beef, destined to feed the army of France.

“What’s that thing sticking up in the water out yonder?” exclaimed Kent. “It looks like the top of a mast just disappearing.”

“A wreck, I reckon!” exclaimed Jim.

Kent smiled at his countryman’s “reckon.” Having been away from the South for many months, it sounded sweet to his ears. The “guess” of the Northerner and “fancy” of the Englishman did not mean the same to him.

The lookout saw the mast-like object at the same time they noted it, and suddenly there was a hurrying and scurrying over the whole ship.

“Look, it’s sunk entirely out of sight! Jim Castleman, that’s a German submarine!”

The shock that followed only a moment afterwards was indescribable. It threw both of the Kentuckians down. They had hastened to the side of the vessel, the better to view the strange “thing sticking up out of the water.”

The boats were lowered very rapidly and filled by the crazed passengers and crew. The poor waiters had not expected to serve their country by drowning like rats. As for the crew,—they were noncombatants and not employed to serve any country in any way. They were of various nationality, many of them being Portuguese with a sprinkling of Scandinavians.

“Here’s a life preserver, Brown! Better put it on. This ain’t the Ohio.”

“Good! I’ll take my chances in the water any day rather than in one of those boats. Can you swim?”

“Sure! I can do three miles without knowing it. And you?”

“Hump! Brought up within a mile of the Ohio River and been going over to Indiana and back without landing ever since I was in pants.”

“Well, let’s dive now and get clear of the sinking boat. If anything happens to me and you get clear, you write my sister in Lexington—she’s all I have left.”

“All right, Jim! Let’s shake. If I give out and you get through, please go get Judy and take her back to my mother.”

“That’s a go! But see here, there is nothing going to happen to us if endurance will count for anything. Have you got on your money belt?”

“Yes; and you?” said Kent, feeling for the gold he carried around his waist.

“I’m all ready then.”

The boats, loaded to their guards, were putting off. Our young men felt it was much safer to trust to themselves than to the crazy manning of the already overloaded boats. They were singularly calm in their preparations as they strapped on the life preservers.

“Jim, throw away the papers you have, recommending you to that French general. We may get picked up by the submarine, and as plain, pleasure-seeking Americans we have a much better chance of being treated properly than if one of us was going to join the Allies.” Kent had inherited from his mother the faculty of keeping his head in time of peril.

“Good eye, old man! They are in my grip and can just stay there. I reckon I’m a—a—book agent. That won’t compromise me any.”

“All right, stick to it! And here goes! We must stay together.”

The Kentuckians dived as well as the bulky life preservers would permit and then they swam quietly along side by side. The ship was rapidly settling. The last boat was off, so full that every little wave splashed over its panic-stricken passengers.