"I don't doubt it. Donald is a different lad already since he joined the Wolf Patrol. Now this cruise of mine will be dull at best to the lad. You see I am combining business with pleasure, and he will be thrown much on his own resources. He has seen the West Indies before, so there would not be much that is novel to him in the scenery or the people. What do you say to my proposal?" Cigar in hand, the great man of Wall Street paused for an answer, knitting his famous black eyebrows as he did so. "Why, if Donald is anxious to go, I don't see why it could not be arranged," was the ensign's reply; "but why not ask the lad himself?" "And your boys, too, of course," was the rejoinder; "they might object to adding an outsider to their number." "Not much fear of that," smiled the officer; "why, you would think they had been lifelong friends. Hark at that!" A merry peal of laughter came ringing from somewhere about the ship. At this juncture, a young man in a natty uniform came hastening up. He bore a slip of yellow paper which he respectfully handed to the Wall Street magnate. "Ah, Collins,--Mr. Hargreaves, this is our wireless operator." The ensign nodded while Mr. Grant gazed over the message. "So you picked her up, eh, Collins?" he said, handing the message he had just perused over to the ensign. "Yes, sir. It appears that after missing the derelict in the fog the _Seneca_ cruised in circles looking for her. She is now within ten miles of us." "So I see by this message," struck in the ensign; "we are fortunate not to have drifted further." "What do you wish to do?" inquired Mr. Grant. "Naturally, to be transferred to my own ship, if you will be so kind." Mr. Grant nodded. "Collins, get our exact position from the captain, signal it to the _Seneca_, and tell her we will lay off and on here till she arrives." "Very well, sir," said the man of the wireless, with a bow. He had hardly withdrawn when the boys came up, fresh from their inspection of the _Brigand_. All were loud in praise of the craft, especially Rob and Merritt. "Would you rather cruise on this craft or go on the duty for Uncle Sam which lies before you?" asked Mr. Grant quizzically. The Boy Scouts drew themselves up. "Why, sir, our duty to our country comes before pleasure," declared Rob, acting as spokesman. "Cruising about is all right, but we Boy Scouts like to be doing something useful for somebody else, but most of all for Uncle Sam." Rob paused, rather alarmed at his temerity at thus addressing one of the richest men in the world. "So you think I am wasting my time cruising, eh?" said Mr. Grant amusedly glancing at the upright, slender boy before him from under his heavy brows.