A MESSAGE FROM A COWARD "Now Reade," began President Bascomb, in a shaking voice, "what can you say---" Tom didn't wait to inform him.

The young chief engineer was darting out on the wall as fast as he could go.
Already the "Morton" had turned, and was chugging back to the scene of this latest outrage, the searchlight flashing back and forth, in the vain effort to detect any small craft stealing away from the vicinity.
"I---I can't race on a narrow runway like that," faltered Mr.Bascomb, halting at the beginning of the narrow wall.

"I---I'll wait here, Mr.
Renshaw, will you keep me company ?" "If you so direct, sir," replied the superintendent.

"For that matter, what Reade and Hazelton can't find out, out yonder, will probably never be discovered." "Do you share Mr.Prenter's infatuation for those two young men ?" asked the president of the Melliston Company.
"I can't say about that, sir," Renshaw replied, with a puzzled air.

"But this much I know---I never worked with two more capable men of any age.
They always know what to do, and they never lose their heads." Mr.Bascomb compressed his lips tightly.
In the meantime Tom, Harry and Treasurer Prenter covered nearly a quarter of a mile along the retaining wall when the motor boat, putting about, picked them up with the searchlight.
Toot! toot! sounded the boat's pneumatic whistle.
"Foreman Corbett is signaling to us to wait and he'll put in for us," said Tom, coming to a halt.