“Horray for Whistler, fellows!” shouted Al Torrance. “Let’s all go after the Heinie!” The boys from the _Colodia_ started away from the wreck at once, but the British Naval officer called after them: “Hold on, my lads. I can’t have you going alone on such a mission. If there really is a spy at large----” “He’s at large, all right, sir,” Morgan interposed. “Give us Willum Johnson and we’ll get the fellow, sure.” “Aye, lad!” cried the giant sailor. “We’ll git ’im, dead or alive.” “You see that you get him _alive_, Bill,” said the officer, sternly. “No mistake about that. I’ll have to explain your pounding this fellow all up.” “Bli’me!” said Johnson, “Hi didn’t begin to treat ’im rough enough.” But this was under his breath and after he had turned away to follow the four Navy Boys. The officer did not hear the comment. By Whistler’s advice they all stooped at the summit and crept over the ridge among the bushes and rocks, endeavoring to keep their bodies out of the view of anybody below on the hillside, where Phil had left George Belding and the German spy. “Hit’s a fair chance, lads, they seed me,” remarked the British seaman. “But mebbe they’d spot muh for a bloomin’ cow!” “Where’s that other fellow, Whistler?” asked Al. “Belding, did you call him?” “Yes. You ought to remember him, Torry. He was all one summer at Seacove. And say! his folks and my folks are in the most wonderful mix-up--wait till I get a chance to tell you all about it!” The party dodged from rock to rock and from one clump of brush to another. Soon Whistler was rather surprised that they did not spy George Belding. He was not lying on the big rock where Whistler had left him. “W’ere’s your chum, lad?” asked Willum Johnson. “I guess the spy must have moved. George would follow him,” Whistler said with confidence. “But how shall we know which way they have gone? We’re no Red Indians on the trail,” Frenchy observed. “Oi, oi!” added Ikey Rosenmeyer. “It’s near sunset, too.” “Don’t be afeared, lad,” advised the big sailor, wagging his head. “Nothing will bite yuh around ’ere.” Whistler then explained that Belding had agreed to drop bits of paper by which they might follow his trail, and this encouraged them all. Near the rock and the hollow in which Whistler himself had seen the spy change his clothes they found no sign of either Belding or the Hun. The latter must have carried his bundle of clothing with him when he moved from this spot. It was some minutes before Ikey’s sharp eyes descried the first handful of torn paper which George Belding had dropped. “Here’s the trail!” he shouted. “Hush up, youngster!” commanded Al Torrance. “Want to tell everybody all you know?” “And it wouldn’t take him long at that--unless he stuttered,” said Frenchy, pounding Ikey between the shoulders. “Oi, oi! I forgot,” explained Rosenmeyer, hoarsely. “Let up, Mike Donahue! Who are you taking for a bass drum?”