Bet you anything you like, Chatty, we have a lot more fun than they do."

"Shouldn't wonder," answered Nelson. "What's that thing bucking along there? Looks like a mine-layer, doesn't she?"

"Yes. What do you suppose she was before they patched her up and painted her gray? Looks like a little old tub that used to run excursions on the river when I was a kid back home."

"Where was that, Billy?"

"Portsmouth, Ohio. Ever there?" Nelson shook his head while his gaze followed the little blunt-nosed, high-decked steamer that came wallowing toward them from the open sea. Billy Masters sighed. "It's a swell little burg, and I wish I was back there," he murmured. Then, as the Wanderer's search light, atop the wheel-house, jumped Into life and sent a long inquiring path across the darkening water, he added more cheerfully: "If I was, though, I'd want to be back here again, so what's the use?"

The approaching craft bellowed once hoarsely and the Wanderer replied. "Sounds like she had a sore throat," muttered Billy. "Say, what's up tonight?"

"Why?"

"Oh, the skipper's sort of excited like and so's