“Yes, sir,” rejoined Ned, debating within himself whether he would tell his commander about the dark-skinned man outside the navy yard. He finally decided not to, deeming it the wisest course not to speak on such an indefinite subject. “Very well, Strong, you may go. You and Seaman Taylor will be notified when you are wanted.” Ned clicked his heels together, placed his hand to his bandaged head, and left the cabin. As he walked forward the last vestige of his dizziness was gone. He felt capable of tackling a whole ship’s company single-handed. As soon as he found an opportunity he related what had passed in the commander’s cabin to his chum. Herc was as overjoyed as his companion at the opportunity that appeared to be held out to the Dreadnought Boys for distinguishing themselves. “At this rate, we’ll be admirals before long,” chortled Herc. “You’ll have to get some of those freckles off your face first, then, and----” He broke off abruptly, as he suddenly became aware that their conversation must have been audible to a man who was reposing in the sun on the other side of the cowl ventilator, in the shelter of which they had been talking. It was the smoke hour after dinner, and many men were lolling about the decks, but neither of the boys had noticed this particular fellow. “What did you stop so suddenly for?” began Herc, with a blank look, but Ned cut him short. “Hush,” he whispered, “don’t say any more. After all, he may be asleep.” “Well, what on earth----” “Come on and take a turn, Herc.” Ned forcibly raised his chum to his feet and walked forward with him. Then they turned aft once more. They chose the other side of the _Beale_, however, so as to get a good view of the figure that Ned had spied on the other side of the ventilator. But in the brief interval they had had their backs turned the man had gone. “That confirms my suspicions,” said Ned. “Suspicions of what?” “That that fellow was there for no good purpose. He was crouching down to hear what we had to say. He must have come up softly after we were seated.” “Well, he didn’t hear anything that was very important.” “No,” admitted Ned, “unless----” “Well, unless what? You’re the most suspicious chap I ever saw.” “I was going to say that I am almost positive that that fellow was the fireman we noticed eying us so curiously the day we left the yard.” “Even so. Aren’t you making a mountain out of a mole hill, or a battleship out of a dinghy?” “I’m not so sure of that,” responded Ned slowly, and with an air of thoughtfulness, “something about that chap roused my suspicions that he was watching us for no good purpose.” “Well, there wasn’t much nourishment in what we said, even if he is what you suspect him to be.” “Humph! he heard that we are to be Midshipman Stark’s assistants in secret duty, didn’t he?” “Well?”