"Not much fear of that. More than likely we'll stumble across a French outpost." Down and down they went, till Dick felt certain they had descended nearly five hundred feet. At some distance in front of them rose another line of hills--the last natural barrier before they reached the historic Plains of Troy. Suddenly the midshipman's foot caught in the exposed root of a gnarled and dwarfed tree, and with a stifled exclamation he pitched upon his hands and knees. "Halt! Who goes there?" demanded a voice in unmistakable English, so close that the Sub nearly ran upon the point of a bayonet that glittered in the starlight. "Friends," replied the Sub promptly. "Maybe," retorted the sentry. "All the same, blessed if I likes the cut of your rig. So hands up, and no blessed fuss or I'll fire." Obediently Dick raised his grey-sleeved arms, while the midshipman, regaining his feet, followed his example. Then a second figure joined the first, and a torch flashed upon the faces of the two officers. "Germans, by smoke!" exclaimed the first sentry. "Bloomin' officers, too. I'll take good care these fellows don't give me the slip." "Bluejackets!" ejaculated the Sub. "Stow your bloomin' lip," ordered the sentry menacingly. Dick complied, mentally picturing the seaman's confusion when the identity of the supposed prisoners was established. In a few seconds half a dozen bluejackets, headed by a sub-lieutenant, appeared on the scene. "What have we here, Jenkins?" asked the officer. "Germans, sir. Strolled right on top of me bayonet." "Good! March them in. I'll question them when we get them on board." "One minute," expostulated Dick. "Eh--what's that? You speak English," exclaimed the officer. "Rather--I am a British officer, and so is my companion." "Keep off it--bloomin' cheek," interposed the man who had held up the supposed Germans. "Silence, there!" rapped out the Sub-lieutenant sternly. Dick gave his name and rank, and that of his brother officer. "But be sharp and take us on board," he added. "You'll have to send an urgent message to the Admiral. It's a matter of extreme importance." The sense of caution was deep within the mind of the Sub in charge of the landing-party; and although he complied with Dick's request to hasten, he took good care to have the two grey-uniformed men surrounded by armed seamen until he reached the shore of a creek. Here, lying about a cable's length off, was a submarine of the "E" type. She was almost awash, her hatches being open, while a skeleton-like framework extended over her contour from bow to stern. Five minutes later the rescued officers found themselves within the hull of the vessel, where they were quickly able to establish their identity, and the Lieutenant-Commander's face grew grave as he listened to their narrative.