The gasoline launch shot out of No Man's Creek and swung into the Severn River. Soon Round Bay was reached and the launch struck across the centre of it and, keeping at equal distance from either shore, ran down the river at full speed. They attracted no notice on their way and soon the railroad bridge was passed, then the county bridge and they were abreast of the Naval Academy grounds. No passing boats seemed at all interested in their movements, and the men felt easier. In but a short time they would be out of the river and on their way across Chesapeake Bay. Hardly a word had been spoken on this fast trip down the river, but desperate fear gripped each man's heart. Little Georgie was now crying softly; he did not realize what was happening, did not comprehend what these strange men were doing beyond their statement that they were taking him to his father, but they were a long time about it and he was hungry and uncomfortable. There was something terrifying in it all to the little boy and now and again he would sob bitterly. When opposite the lower part of the Naval Academy grounds the gasoline engine suddenly stopped. With a fierce exclamation of fear and rage the red-bearded man jumped to the engine and tried to start it again, but with no success. "Everything seems to be all right here," he said in a low, intense way; "the spark is all right,"--then in a voice of fright he said, "This cock doesn't show there is any gasoline in the feed pipe; see if there is any in the tank." "Not a drop," exclaimed the other in a terrified voice; "this rotten tank has sprung another leak." "Get out an oar and make for that sloop," cried the red-bearded man. Fifty feet away was a sloop yacht anchored; her sail was all spread, though the sheets were not belayed. A fresh breeze was blowing down the Severn; this helped the gasoline boat, and with the aid of the oars it was soon alongside the sloop. "Jump aboard, quick with you," cried the leader; "come along, Georgie; run forward, Jim, and heave up the anchor; never mind our boat--we've no time to lose--I'll look out for the sheets and helm." With a practiced hand the man with the red beard grabbed the tiller. They found nobody aboard--but the sails being loosed and no small boat being alongside it was likely that a party to go sailing would soon be pulled off from the shore to the yacht. The anchor was hove up to the bows in a moment, the head of the yacht swung round, the sails filled, and she was off with a bound. With a critical eye the man at the helm trimmed the different sails, set the trysail and then heaved a sigh of profound relief. "I think we're safe," he said; "hello, there's a navy ship on the port bow, and another one several miles away on the starboard bow. I'll steer between--they don't know anything about us--they won't bother us." While the superintendent of the Naval Academy was sitting at his desk this same afternoon, his telephone bell rang. "Hello, what is it?" he asked.