"That little charge of compressed air
shot me out of the tube, and up I bounded to the surface, like a piece
of cork."
"Now, we really lead the whole world in submarine boating," cried Mr.
Farnum, hoarsely. "I don't care what any other inventor may have
discovered, I'm satisfied that no one else can a boat as safe for the
crew as the good little old 'Pollard' is!"
So happy did all of the five feel, in fact, that they shook hands
gleefully, all around. Then, while Eph rowed out to the craft to dry
himself and get into uniform, Jacob Farnum ran to the machine shops,
there sounding several sharp, triumphant blasts on the steam whistle.
The whole affair--Eph's escape to the surface, the joy of the submarine,
party and the blowing of the whistle, were all noted by a spy whom Don
Melville had set to the task of watching the Farnum crowd.
Don was equally well aware that David Pollard had been working day and
night in his room at Mr. Farnum's house.
"They've discovered something that pleases them mightily," thought Don,
sick with rage. "What can it be? I'm going to know, if money has still
any power to buy other men's services."
"Jack Benson may be very happy now," muttered Don, vindictively, "but his
joy shall soon be turned to ashes--or worse."
Nor was Don Melville speaking by mere guesswork. His ignoble nature had
evolved the whole plan by which Jack was to be ruined.
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