suggested the artilleryman.

"Said gun would be considerable weight for individual to transport in pocket," said Yoshio doubtfully, as Ben raised his hand for silence amid the ensuing laughter.

"There's a good deal in that idea," he said, "but I don't think it will do as it stands. The birds would bomb our gun to blazes after they had a dose or two from it. They're not so slow themselves you know. How about some of the forts? Aren't there some big ones around New York?"

McAllister nodded. "There's Hancock. We could get a ship through."

"Say!" Gloria leaped suddenly to her feet. "While we're about it, can't we get a warship—a battleship or something? Those babies would have a hot time trying to bomb one of Uncle Sam's battleships apart and there's all kinds of anti-aircraft guns on them."

"There's a destroyer in the Hudson," said someone.

"How many men does it take to run her?"

"Hundred and fifty."

"But," put in Gloria, "that's a hundred and fifty of the old style men who had to have their three squares and eight hours' sleep every day, and they did a lot of things like cooking that we won't have to. What do you say, Dictator, old scout? Shall we give it a whirl?"

"O. K.—unless somebody has something better to offer," declared Ben, and in fifteen minutes more the colonists were cautiously poking their way out of the subway station en route to take command of U. S. S. Ward.

Cleaning up the ship before the start took the colonists a whole day. A sooty dust, like the product of a particularly obnoxious factory, had settled over everything, and dealing with the cast-iron bodies of the sailors, wedged in the queer corners where they had fallen at the moment of the change, was a job in itself.

As night shut down, the whole crew, with the exception of Beeville and Murray Lee, who had spent some time in small boats and had therefore been appointed navigators, was busy going over the engine-room, striving to learn the complex detail of handling a warship.

Murray and Beeville were poring over their navigating charts when a step sounded outside the chartroom and the wire-frizzled head of Gloria was thrust in.

"How goes it, children?" she asked. "Do we sail for the cannibal islands 

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