“How did you come to fall in with him in the first place?” Al asked, as the giant began to snore. “Why,” explained the stranger, “I started to walk down to the port because it was so pleasant. He was sitting outside the place where I stopped for tea and muffins after I’d walked a way. I had no idea he was so--so far gone. But he must have been drinking for days,” casting a disgusted glance at his close companion whose hamlike hand never relaxed. “He learned where I was going, and he at once got a grip on my collar. He hasn’t let go since--I never saw such a man!” concluded the stranger morosely. “His hand will drop off when he gets sound asleep,” Whistler said comfortingly. “Then we’ll sneak.” “Don’t you believe it!” whispered the other in vast disgust. “He fell asleep after dinner, but his fingers are just clamped on to my collar. When I tried to wriggle away, he awoke. See!” He tried to pull away from the friendly grip. At once the British seaman half aroused; but his fingers never relaxed. “William Johnson his my nyme-- Seaman’s my hav-o-cation! Hi’m hin this war for a penny-bun-- Hand so is hall my nation! Hoo-roo!” mumbled the gigantic sailor, and fell asleep again. “Now, what do you know about that?” demanded the victim of brotherly love. “And me--Well, I’m due aboard the _Colodia_ to-day.” “The _Colodia_!” exclaimed the four Navy Boys in chorus. None of them wore a designating mark, for they had on their white service caps. But the _Colodia_ was the Yankee destroyer to which Morgan, Torrance, Donahue and Rosenmeyer belonged. The four gazed on the stranger with increased interest at his statement. “Say,” Whistler asked, “aren’t you George Belding? Didn’t you and your folks come up to Seacove from New York five or six years ago and spend the summer in the old Habershaw House? I’m Phil Morgan. We lived right next to the Habershaw House.” “My goodness!” exclaimed the strange youth, sticking out his hand to grab Whistler’s. “And your father, Dr. Morgan, and mine went to college together. That’s what brought us up to Seacove. Sure! My mother wasn’t well. We all got fat and sassy up there. I declare I’m glad to see you, Phil Morgan!” “Me long lost brother!” whispered Frenchy to the others. “Have you still got the strawberry mark upon your arm?” But Al Torrance was quite as serious as Whistler and the newly-introduced George Belding. “Say, fellows,” Al said, “if he’s going to be one of us on the old destroyer, we’ve got to help him out of this mess.” “Go ahead! How?” demanded Ikey. Al produced a pocketknife which he opened quickly. It had a long and sharp blade. He approached the snoring giant on the bank. “Oi Oi!” gasped Ikey Rosenmeyer. “Never mind! Don’t kill him in cold blood. Remember, Torry, it’s Germans we’re fightin’, not these Britishers.” “What are you going to do?” demanded Belding.