"Yes; _eavesdropping for the flag_," snapped Ned in a low, tense tone, as, with a swift glance about him, he dropped over the rail of the veranda and on to the soft ground beneath. He landed as noiselessly as a cat. Herc followed him, but was not so successful. In fact, as he struck the ground with a crash, he ejaculated: "Ouch!" in a loud, startled tone. Luckily a burst of applause from within, at some sentiment expressed by one of the speech-makers, drowned his exclamation. Ned, in an angry whisper, demanded to know what was the matter with his red-headed companion. "Gee whitakers! I dropped into a porcupine, I think," moaned Herc. "I feel like a human pin-cushion." Ned looked at his chum, and then, serious as was the situation, he could not help breaking into a low laugh. "Herc, you poor fellow, I'm sorry for you," he exclaimed. "You've tumbled into a cactus-bush." "Oh, is that it?" rejoined Herc. "Well, whatever it is, I can't walk till I get some of these stickers out of me. You go ahead, Ned, and I'll meet you here in half an hour when Tom gets back." And so it was agreed that Herc was to await Ned's return and employ the time in extracting what he called "stickers." "Good-bye, Herc," said Ned, under his breath, as he slipped off cautiously, avoiding moonlit spots and dodging along in the black shadows. "So long," muttered Herc, as he painfully made toward the hotel steps. "If ever I get these things out of me," he added to himself, "I'll never put a tack in any one's chair again. I know just how it feels now. I'm full of that tack-tus, or whatever you call it." With the aid of a grinning colored bell-boy, Herc soon got rid of most of his "bristles." By the time old Tom arrived at the appointed meeting-place he was comparatively comfortable once more. "Where's Ned?" demanded the old salt, gazing about him, as Herc greeted him. "Oh, he'll be here in a minute. He just went off to talk to some old friends--or rather acquaintances," responded Herc lightly. "He'll be here immediately or sooner." But Ned was not "here" in a few minutes or in many minutes. Impatiently the two--the Dreadnought Boy and the old blue-jacket--awaited his coming, but the lad did not appear. Eleven o'clock struck and no Ned. The quarter past the hour chimed on the hotel clock and jackies on their way to the boat-landing began to hurry by. But of Ned there had been no sign. CHAPTER XXIII. A JACKIE AGAINST WOLVES. Ned, gliding softly as a cat stalking a mouse, among the trees--choosing the shady spots to conceal his movements--soon came within earshot of the three men in whose conversation he was so deeply interested. The moonlight, as intense as it usually is in the tropics, flooded the beautiful grounds of the hotel, making checker-work patterns of black and white beneath the tropical growth. The Pulsifers and Mr. Varian were standing full in the center of a moonlight flooded opening as the Dreadnought Boy approached them.