With his pulses throbbing, Jack Benson essayed to raise the bulkhead.  Glory!  It rose!  A moment later Captain Jack Benson was out in the open, under the cloudy skies.

No time did he lose there, however.  Stealing softly for the woods, he sped on into them.  Nor did he cease his hurried gait until he had covered at least a quarter of a mile.

“Not much risk of their finding me, now, even if they’re wise at last,” reflected the submarine boy, slowing down to an easier walk.

In all, Captain Jack must have gone nearly three-quarters of a mile from the scene of his late confinement when something occurred that made him fairly jump.

Ahead there came the sound of rapid steps.  Then the sounds of a slight scuffle, followed by Don Melville’s undoubted tones, shouting: 

“Run, Benson!  He’ll never catch you now!”

“How on earth does Don Melville know I’m here?” quivered Jack, stopping short.

CHAPTER XII

THE CAPITALIST DOESN’T LIKE THE SITUATION

Someone was dashing through the woods straight at Jack Benson.

Almost immediately there came the yell, in baffled rage: 

“Confound you, Don Melville!  I’ll settle with you for this!”

“That’s Mr. Farnum’s voice!” throbbed the real Jack, all agog with wonder.

Immediately there dashed between the trees a panting boy in a uniform identically like Benson’s.

“That you, Hal?” shouted the real Jack.

“Yes,” came a hoarse answer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Run to Farnum—­quick!”

“You’re a liar, whoever you are!” retorted Jack, putting himself in motion after the fugitive.  “You’re not Hal Hastings—­nor yet Eph Somers!”

The race was a spirited one.  The fugitive ran splendidly, gamely, but Jack Benson’s wind had had a long rest, and now he was in the pink of condition for sprinting.

So, ere three hundred feet had been covered, the young submarine boy made a flying leap that carried him onto the shoulders of the fugitive down went both to earth.

“Now, hold quiet, will you, or shall I have to pummel your face out of any human likeness?” demanded Jack.

“Oh, Jack!  Jack Benson!  That you?” shouted the wondering voice of Jacob Farnum.

“Yes, and I’ve got some fellow who’s masquerading in our uniform!” yelled Captain Jack.

Jacob Farnum had succeeded in hurling Don Melville away from him, and now the all but exhausted boatbuilder came through the forest with lumbering steps.

All of a sudden the downed fugitive began to fight, and Jack was forced to be strenuous.

“Here, let me take him.  I’ll quiet him,” promised Jacob Farnum, grimly.  That gentleman was in a state of mental maze over the sight of what at first appeared to be two Jack Bensons fighting each other; Yet the incident gave him evidence that there was something unusual in this night’s appearances.  Without any difficulty, now, he separated the real from the false Jack, and promptly laid hands on the latter.