CHAPTER XVI. THE FRIENDLY SUN.

The sun grew hotter and hotter. From the whirring of winches and the clanking rattle of chains that was borne shoreward from time to time, Ned knew that the work of mine-laying was still going on. The work he had been sent to report!

What would be thought of him by his superiors? He felt that it was doubtful if they would believe his story, even supposing he ever got back to his ship and was able to tell it.

He wondered what his captors meant to do with him. Reasoning it out, he had not much fear that they would attempt any desperate course, but they were certain to place him where he could not give the alarm and cause their pursuit before they had had an opportunity to get clear away.

[Pg 129]

Mingled with these reflections came others. Ned speculated vainly as to how long this treachery had been going on. Probably for some time; Kenworth's note book appeared well filled. Doubtless he had become disgusted with what he deemed the unfair treatment accorded him in the navy, and had fallen an easy prey to the foreign agents who are constantly trying to discover for their countries the secrets of Uncle Sam's coast defenses and naval arrangements.

But it is rarely indeed that there is found in either branch of the service men who have fallen low enough to co?perate with these fellows. From time to time, though, such dastards are found and promptly weeded out. There was no doubt but that Kenworth belonged to the latter class.

"I wonder if Rankin does, also," thought Ned. "He was a friend of Kenworth's. It's natural he should be mixed up in his nefarious schemes and plots."

[Pg 130]

It must have been well after noon when Kenworth reported that the tug had finished her work and was going back.

"Then we go 'way," decided Saki. "Me plenty hungry. Bimeby when get dark we come back and keep you company, Honorable Strong."

"Yes, don't be afraid we'll forget you," sneered Kenworth, putting up his note book; "you've suddenly become important in my eyes."

Bestowing a parting kick on Ned's helpless form, the miserable traitor followed Saki off across the sand hills. Ned turned his eyes and watched them as they went.

So they were going to leave him there on the parching sand till nightfall, and then——

"Ned, old boy, you're sure in a bad fix," said the captive lad to himself. "There's not a chance on earth of getting away from here, and even if I could, I have failed in my mission."

The thought that he had not accomplished the duty laid out for him pained the Dreadnought[Pg 131] Boy far more than the contemplation of his predicament. With Ned, and with Herc, too, devotion to their ideals of duty was almost a religion. It is so with most of Uncle Sam's Jackies. But, as we know, a few black sheep are bound to crop up in every fold. Ned thought grimly that he had certainly encountered his share.

The sun beat down hotter and hotter upon the boy. Its rays burned his eyes. His lips were swollen, his every bone aching. The tortures of his thirst had almost reached the point of delirium.

Suddenly he felt an acute pain upon his hand. It stung like the thrust of a red-hot knife.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Ned, and rolled over a little.

The pain ceased, and the next instant he discovered what had caused it. His binoculars had been laid upon a rock, one of a few that cropped out here and there in the arid sand.

Clearly the Jap and Kenworth had forgotten[Pg 132] to take the glasses with them, for following his binding Ned had been stripped of everything he possessed. They lay with the small ends toward him. The sun streaming through the large lenses became concentrated into two tiny, burning dots of white light at the small end of the glasses.

The binoculars had, in fact, become converted into a burning glass, and the sharp sting on Ned's hand had been caused by one of the discs of concentrated heat. Ned was still engaged on this explanation of his pained hand when there was borne to his nostrils the sharp, acrid odor of burning cloth.

He realized in a flash what had happened. When he rolled over, the disc of burning essence of light had left his hand, but centered itself on some portion of his garments. The cloth was on fire and was smoldering.

He was powerless to feel with his hands where the cloth had ignited and could feel as yet no[Pg 133] pain. But the odor of the burning fabric was unmistakable.

It is a curious fact, but it was not until some seconds later that Ned realized, with a thrill of horror, what that odor of burning cloth really meant.

If he could not extinguish that slowly consuming fire, it might presently burst into flame. Powerless to save himself, he would be burned alive!

For an instant he felt sick and faint. Then he rallied his faculties and began to roll over and over in the sand. After some moments of this, the odor of burning ceased.

"Thank heaven for that," thought the boy with a shudder, as he sensed his terribly narrow escape.

Suddenly his heart gave an exultant throb. A glad thought had been born in his mind. From whence the inspiration came, he did not know. It was enough that it had come.

[Pg 134]

If the rays of the binoculars that had been so providentially placed would ignite cloth, they would surely set fire to rope!

Ned rolled over once more till he could settle the tiny burning spot upon his wrist bonds. It was tedious work, and by the time he had the white hot circlet focused on the ropes, his hands were covered with tiny red burns that stung like hornets.

But in the excitement of the moment he scarcely paid any attention to these. With shining eyes he watched the rope begin to smoke. It glowed red. The air was filled with a pungent odor.

Ned gave a quick wrench. Like burned flax the charred and smoldering wrist gyves gave way. With his hands free, Ned sat up. He felt sick and dizzy, but his heart bounded with overflowing gratitude. He cast the burning ropes far from him.

A jagged clam shell lay not far off. He made[Pg 135] his way to it, half rolling and half staggering. Then, with the sharp shell edges he swiftly cut his leg bonds.

He found himself shaking all over. There was an odd swimming feeling in his head. The sand about him flashed red as blood and the sun reeled through it like a blazing ball of copper.

He spat the gag out of his mouth as the fit of weakness passed from him.

"Now," he said half aloud, as he rose on his aching ankles, "now to try conclusions with two of the vilest traitors it has ever been my ill fortune to encounter."

He stood thus a moment looking about him. Then, with painful footsteps, for his circulation was not yet fully restored, he set off along the Neck to where the squat, grim pile of dull red buildings marked the location of the fort.