"Mr. Benson, you're certainly ingenious!"

"Will you do what I've suggested?"

"Why, I-er-er-" Doctor McCrea hesitated. "I-well, I'll think it over."

Again Doctor McCrea roared with laughter.

CHAPTER XX: CONCLUSION

Sam Truax sat in the brig, between decks on the "Hudson," his scowling face turned toward the barred door, when the marine guard, taking a turn, peered in.

"Good heavens, man! What ails you?" demanded the marine.

"I'm all right," growled the prisoner.

"I'll be hanged if you look it."

"What are you talking about!" demanded the prisoner angrily.

"Man alive, I wish you could see your face!"

Three minutes later a sailor halted at the door, looked at Truax, then wheeled about to the marine.

"Say, what ails that man? What's the matter with his face?"

"Don't know. Looks fearful, doesn't he?"

"Awful! Ought to have the doctor."

Sam shifted uneasily.

Five minutes later a sailor wearing on one sleeve the Red Cross of the hospital squad came along.

"Say," said the marine, "I wish you'd look at the feller in the brig."

The hospital man showed his face at the grating and looked at Truax keenly.

"Wow! The sawbones officer has got to look at this chap!"

Sam Truax sprang to his feet, but his legs wobbled. He felt his heart-beats racing and his face flushing.

"I felt all right a little while ago, but I certainly feel queer now," he muttered.

Doctor McCrea soon hurried below.

"Sentry, unlock the door! Let me in there!"

Doctor McCrea made a brief examination.

"How long have you been feeling ill?"

"N-not long," faltered Truax.

"Hospital man!" called Doctor McCrea.

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Have the stretcher brought here at once."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

The stretcher was brought, and the attendants put Truax on it.

"I can walk, Doctor," he protested feebly.

"Can't risk it! To the 'sick bay,' men."

"What's wrong, Doctor?" Truax asked, when he was lifted from the stretcher and placed in one of the berths.

"Don't talk, my man. Just lie quietly and let us get you on your feet-if we can," he added under his breath, but not so softly but that Sam Truax heard him.

The attendant came with a gla.s.s of liquid.

"Drink this," ordered the surgeon, "and in a few minutes you'll feel better."

"I-I feel awful," Truax groaned.

The dose was repeated, but the patient continued to grow worse. His nausea was overwhelming and he vomited over and over. In an interval of quiet the doctor leaned over him.

"Have you anything on your mind, man? Any wrong you'd like to set straight before-before-"

A look of fright came into Truax's eyes.

"Doctor, I-I wonder if Jack Benson would come to see me?"

"I'll see," replied the doctor, rising and leaving the "sick bay."

Ten minutes later the naval surgeon returned with Benson. Hal Hastings, Mr. Mayhew and Ensign Trahern followed Jack and the doctor.

"Here's Mr. Benson, Truax," announced Doctor McCrea. "If there's anything you wish to confess, the rest of us can bear witness and help straighten matters out if you've done any wrong that you now regret."

Sam Truax feebly stretched out a hand that was hot and dry.

"Benson, will you give me your hand?"