“Not quite.” Captain Sampson smiled. “We don’t know that it was Kamongo itself that did the crawling out, but it must have been something like him. You see, another name for Kamongo is Lungfish. He’s a kind of fish—more fish than anything else in many ways—but he’s also got lungs of a sort. He can live under water or above it. And so can a submarine. I think it’s a fine name for a sub. I’d like to be boarding her with you.” “_Kamongo_,” muttered Stan, almost to himself. “_Kamongo._” “Yes, I’ve been thinking the same thing,” March said. “Getting used to our ship’s name. It’s like suddenly finding out you’ve got a wife and somebody tells you her name—and you’ve never heard it before.” “If you say it over more and more,” Stan said, “you get to like it. It’s got a good sound.” “Yes, I think so,” March agreed. “It’s got strength. And for some reason it sounds sleek and trim. And being able to live above or below the water—that’s our ship, all right!” “Two weeks,” Stan mused. “You’re going home, I suppose?” “Yes, I’m going home,” March replied. “It may be the last time for quite a spell.” “I’m going, too,” Stan said. “Good old Utica, New York. I’m glad it isn’t far.” So Stan and March said goodbye the next day, as they said goodbye to all the others they had come to know so well at New London. But to each other they were able to say, “See you in a couple of weeks—aboard _Kamongo_!” Then March went home, and saw his mother and Scoot’s family and many of his old friends. But Hampton did not seem right without Scoot himself. It had been a wrench when he went off to New London without him, but there he had been so busy, so absorbed, that he had hardly had time to miss his friend of so many years. Now, back in the town they had grown up in together, the town wasn’t all there without Scoot. March had written Scoot a note before leaving New London, telling him that he was going home on leave before reporting for duty. And Scoot had gnashed his teeth on getting the letter, realizing that March had finished his training first. Scoot felt that he was finished, too, for he had done everything but fly down the funnel of the training carrier—backwards. “What’s left for me to learn?” he asked. “Unless they set up some real Jap Zeros here for me to shoot at I don’t see what else I can do.” Then, just four days before March had to leave Hampton, Scoot got his own orders—to report in three weeks’ time to the new aircraft carrier _Bunker Hill_ at San Francisco! He raced home from Florida as fast as he could go, and he and March had two days together before March left. They talked submarines and airplanes all day and all night, and Scoot’s family had to wait until March left before they had a really good chance to visit with him.