“Confound the brute,” growled the man, reaching for his gun.

As he drew it, the dog seized his wrist and with a cry the man dropped the gun.  That, too, was part of the dog’s training.

While the farmer and the other man struggled on the ground, the torpedo worked its way half from the man’s pocket.  The farmer seized it.  The man fell back, limp, and the farmer, with the torpedo in one hand, grasped at the gun on the ground and straightened up.

He had no sooner risen than the man was at him again.  His unconsciousness had been merely feigned.  The struggle was renewed.

At that point, the hedge down the road parted and Del Mar stepped out.  A glance was enough to tell him what was going on.  He drew his gun and ran swiftly toward the combatants.

As Del Mar approached, his man succeeded in knocking the torpedo from the farmer’s hand.  There it lay, several feet away.  There seemed to be no chance for either man to get it.

Quickly the farmer bent his wrist, aiming the gun deliberately at the precious torpedo.  As fast as he could he pulled the trigger.  Five of the six shots penetrated the little model.

So surprised was his antagonist that the farmer was able to knock him out with the butt of his gun.  He broke away and fled, whistling on a police whistle for the dog just as Del Mar ran up.  A couple of shots from Del Mar flew wild as the farmer and his dog disappeared.

Del Mar stopped and picked up the model.  It had been shot into an unrecognizable mass of scrap.  In a fury, Del Mar dashed it on the ground, cursing his men as he did so.  The strange disappearance of the torpedo model from Elaine’s room worried both of us.  Doubtless if Kennedy had been there he would have known just what to do.  But we could not decide.

“Really,” considered Elaine, “I think we had better take Mr. Del Mar into our confidence.”

“Still, we’ve had a great many warnings,” I objected.

“I know that,” she persisted, “but they have all come from very unreliable sources.”

“Very well,” I agreed finally, “then let’s drive over to his bungalow.”

Elaine ordered her little runabout and a few moments later we climbed into it and Elaine shot the car away.

As we rode along, the country seemed so quiet that no one would ever have suspected that foreign agents lurked all about.  But it was just under such a cover that the nefarious bridge and harbor-mining work ordered by Del Mar’s superiors was going ahead quietly.

As our car climbed a hill on the other side of which, in the valley, was a bridge, we could not see one of Del Mar’s men in hiding at the top.  He saw us, however, and immediately wigwagged with his handkerchief to several others down at the bridge where they were attaching a pair of wires to the planking.

“Some one coming,” muttered one who was evidently a lookout.

The men stopped work immediately and hid in the brush.  Our car passed over the bridge and we saw nothing wrong.  But no sooner had we gone than the men crept out and resumed work which had progressed to the point where they were ready to carry the wires of an electric connection through the grass, concealing them as they went.