own hectic
world, people had no such scorn of gold. Gee, he'd sure like to go
along! The professor could have his old statues or whatever he was
looking for. As for himself, he'd fill up his pockets with Spanish
doubloons and pieces of eight!

Larry was snapped out of his trance by a light knock on the door,
which opened to admit a radiant girl in creamy knickers and green
cardigan.

"May I come in, daddy?" she inquired, hesitating, as she saw he was
not alone.

"You seem to be in already, my dear," the professor told her, rising
from his desk and stepping forward.

Then, turning to Larry, who had also risen, he said:

"Mr. Hunter, this is my daughter, Diane, who is also my secretary."

"I am pleased to meet you, Miss Stevens," said Larry, taking her hand.

And he meant it--for almost anyone would have been pleased to meet
Diane, with her tawny gold hair, warm olive cheeks and eyes bluer even
than her father's and just as twinkling, just as intelligent.

"She will accompany the expedition and take stenographic notes of
everything we observe," added her father, to Larry's amazement.

"What?" he declared. "You mean to say that--that--"

"Of course he means to say that I'm going, if that's what you mean to
say, Mr. Hunter," Diane assured him. "Can you think of any good reason
why I shouldn't go, when girls are flying around the world and
everything else?"

Even had Larry been able to think of any good reason, he wouldn't have
mentioned it. But as a matter of fact, he had shifted quite abruptly
to an entirely different line of thought. Diane, he was
thinking--Diana, goddess of the chase, the huntress! And himself,
Larry Hunter--the hunter and the huntress!

Gee, but he'd like to go! What an adventure, hunting around together
on the bottom of the ocean!

* * * * *

What a wild dream, rather, he concluded when his senses returned. For
after all, he was only a reporter, fated to write about other people's
adventures, not to participate in them. So he put away his pad and
pencil and prepared to leave.

But at the door he paused.

"Oh, yes--one more question. When are you planning to leave,
Professor?"

At that, Martin Stevens and his daughter exchanged a swift glance.
Then, with a smile, Diane said:

"I see no reason why we shouldn't tell him, daddy."

"But we didn't tell the reporters from the other papers, my dear,"
protested her father.

"Then suppose we give Mr. Hun