“And right away they’re put into positions of authority where they can help the enemy, if they’ve a mind to.” “Yes, of course. But, as I said, they soon show their colors.” Her father paused, his match halfway to his pipe as he looked at her searchingly. “But why all this interest in such things, Kitten? You’ve become a walking question-box.” “Oh, the talk you pick up makes you wonder about lots of things,” she replied evasively. “After I asked you this morning about the disposal of the waste I got to wondering what they do with all the food scraps.” Her father looked surprised at such a question and repeated, “Food scraps?” “I often see the ward boys dumping food left by the patients into big buckets.” “Oh, that. It’s contracted for by a cattleman. Beeson, I believe his name is. He lives on Terrapin Island, and uses the waste to feed his hogs.” * * * * * Next morning Brad came by to go to church with Kitty. As they were walking home together she asked, “Brad, do you know where Terrapin Island is?” “No, but I can find out. Up at the hospital they have some very fine, detailed maps of every island and inlet along this coast.” “Soundings, too, and water depths?” “I should think so. I never studied them closely. They were done by some boys over at the Marine Base—fellows who used to work for the Coast Geodetic Survey.” “Wish I could have a look at them.” “Might stir up some comment, Kit. No use to lay ourselves open to questioning.” “No, of course not.” “What did you want to look up specially?” “I was wondering yesterday when I went exploring if that inlet flowing around the south end of that island is deep enough to float a sub.” Brad laughed. “You can put that worry out of your mind, Kit. Any inlet along this coast that’s deep enough to float a sub is thoroughly guarded and protected by netting at the sea entrance—under water of course.” “But that’s no assurance that small rubber boats can’t come in for supplies.” “Oh, no, nor that traitors from our shores can’t slip out to waiting subs. And, of course, we know that’s being done all the time.” “Brad, wouldn’t it be wonderful if you and I could do something to nip that sort of thing in the bud?” “Kit, don’t be too sure we can do anything about it. We’re dealing with clever crooks, with devilishly keen minds.” A few minutes later when Brad paused at Kitty’s door she said, “Can’t you come in and have dinner with us? Jane always fixes something a little extra because Dad eats dinner with us at noon on Sundays.” “You’re a peach, Kit! It really would feel good to stick my feet under a home table once more.” Mr. Carter made Brad welcome while Kitty went back to have Jane set an extra place at the table. They were half through dinner when Billy said, “Dad, let’s go boat riding. You promised to take me some time.” “So you did, Dad, as soon as the weather was mild enough. It couldn’t be a more perfect day to get out.”