"The same, Dave. He will be in full charge of the expedition, which is to sound the depths of the Pacific, locate any new islands which may be brought to light, and drag the bottom of the ocean for strange fish or marine animals, for the Fish Commission. For this purpose the expedition will take along one of the new Costell diving bells." "You mean one of those glass cages which they can lower to the bottom of the ocean and then walk around on big steel legs, like an artificial crab?" "Exactly. They say they work perfectly, and if that is so, we ought to be able to get to the wreck of the _Happy Hour_ and explore it without difficulty." "We? Shall we go along with Captain Broadbeam?" "If my application as master diver is accepted," and Amos Fearless smiled faintly. "Then you've applied for such a position?" "Yes. I did it as soon as I heard Broadbeam was in charge. I know he will do what he can for me." "And what of me, father?" "If I go, you shall go as assistant." "Hurrah! Then the sunken treasure is as good as ours!" "Don't be too sure, Dave. Even if we are successful, there is plenty of work cut out for us before we lay our hands on that million dollars, or any part of it. We must--what's that?" Mr. Amos Fearless broke off short and ran to the window of the cottage in which he and his son lived. "A fellow running down to the beach! He was at the window listening!" "It's Bart Hankers!" burst from Dave's lips. "Bart Hankers, of all people! He must have heard all we said." "That's too bad!" Amos Fearless gave a deep sigh. "I wanted to keep this a secret." "The miserable sneak!" went on Dave, indignantly. "I'm going after him and see what he means by such conduct." And before his father could stop him, the lad was out of the cottage and running toward the beach at his best speed. As said before, Dave Fearless was a youth of seventeen, tall, well-built, and handsome. He had been brought up along the coast of Long Island Sound, and had spent two years of his life in a lighthouse not far distant from his present residence in the village of Quanatack. Following in the footsteps of his father, Dave had taken to the water naturally, and no boy on Long Island could swim better, row better, or handle a sailboat more skillfully than he. In addition to this, Dave had often been with his father when the latter was working at his trade as a master diver, and he knew more about the work of a diver than did many men who followed it for a living. Father and son lived together by themselves, Mrs. Fearless having died several years before. Mr. Fearless had once been fairly well-to-do, but a fire, and the wild speculations of a brother, now dead also, had robbed him of all of his savings and left him with nothing but his hands to depend upon for a living.