ly. "We're sinking, and
I can't get out."

Ross tightened the valve, and sprang toward him, the murder impulse
strong in his soul. In imagination, he felt his fingers on the throat of
the other, and every strong muscle of his arms closing more tightly his
grip. Then their plight dominated his thoughts; he merely struck out
silently, and knocked the photographer down.

"Get up," he commanded, as the prostrate man rolled heavily over on his
hands and knees. "Get up, I may need you."

Foster arose, and seated himself on a torpedo amidships, where he sank
his head in his hands. With a glance at him, and a reassuring look at
the girl, who still remained forward, Ross went aft to connect up the
pump. But as he went, he noticed that the deck inclined more and more
with each passing moment.

He found the depressed engine room full of water, and the motor flooded.
It was useless to start it; it would short-circuit at the first contact;
and he halted, wondering at the boat's being down by the stern so much,
until a snapping sound from forward apprised him of the reason.

The painter at the boom had held her nose up until the weight was too
much for it, and, with its parting, the little craft assumed nearly an
even keel, while the water rushed forward among the battery jars beneath
the deck. Then a strong, astringent odor arose through the seams in the
deck, and Ross became alive.

"Battery gas!" he exclaimed, as he ran amidships, tumbling Foster off
the torpedo with a kick--for he was in his way. He reached up and
turned valve after valve, admitting compressed air from the flasks to
the filled tanks, to blow out the water. This done, he looked at the
depth indicator; it registered seventy feet; but, before he could
determine the speed of descent, there came a shock that permeated the
whole boat. They were on the bottom.

"And Lord only knows," groaned Ross, "how much we've taken in! But it's
only three atmospheres, thank God. Here, you," he commanded to the
nerveless Foster, who had again found a seat. "Lend a hand on this pump.
I'll deal with your case when we get up."

"What must I do?" asked Foster, plaintively, as he turned his face, an
ashy green now, toward Ross.

"Pump," yelled Ross, in his ear. "Pump till you break your back if
necessary. Ship that brake."

He handed Foster his pump-brake, and they shipped them in the hand-pump.
But, heave as they might, they could not move it, except in jerks of
about an inc