of the platoon leaders had vanished the captains
and first lieutenants made their way to the decks above.

Contrary to German reports that American soldiers are kept mostly
between decks while transports are in the danger zone, the decks
fore and aft were crowded with men of the Ninety-ninth. Those
who stood nearest to the rails felt that they had the best vantage
points from which to see what was going on. It was with eager
interest, not fear, that the soldiers took in all that was visible
of the fleet's progress and the work of the destroyers to protect
the troopships from disaster.

From northward and slightly ahead of the course of the troopship
of the Ninety-ninth a swift destroyer could be seen darting
over the waves. As she came closer it seemed to the Army beholders
that she traveled with the speed of an express train.

"Worth watching, and every officer and man visible on her looks
and acts like a piece of the machinery," commented Major Wells,
passing Prescott an extended field glass. "Want to take a look
at her?"

"Why, I'd know that tall officer on her bridge anywhere in the
world if I had as good a view of him as I have now," uttered Dick
delightedly.

"Old Darry?" inquired Greg Holmes.

"No one else. Take a look at him. Next to the last officer on the
port side of the bridge."

The instant that the glass gave him a sight of the familiar face
Captain Holmes uttered a whoop.

"Darry himself, and sure enough!" Greg exclaimed. "Wonder what
he's heading in so close for?"

"He knows what he's doing," Prescott returned. "Don't worry about
that."

"I don't," Greg retorted cheerfully. With a rounding sweep the
destroyer commanded by Dave Darrin turned out of the way of the
troopship, then came up close, on the same course, scooting by.

"Good old Darry!" Prescott yelled through a megaphone that Greg
thrust into his unoccupied hand.

For a wonder Dave heard, just as the destroyer darted in at her
closest point to the transport.

For just an instant Darrin turned to wave his hand. Then, between
both hands, placed over his mouth, he shouted:

"Hullo, Dick! 'Lo, Greg!"

Dave waved his hand, then turned to give an order to his watch
officer. A brief greeting, but it meant a world to the three chums
who had had a part in it.

"Now, if Danny Grin's craft would only come in that close!" sighed
Greg happily.

But it didn't. Once in a while Prescott and Holmes could make
out the craft