G Harvey Ralphson

Boy Scouts in a Submarine; Or, Searching an Ocean Floor G Harvey Ralphson

Publisher Marketing: LOST ON AN OCEAN FLOOR The handsome clubroom of the Black Bear Patrol, Boy Scouts of America, in the City of New York, was ablaze with light, and as noisy as healthy, happy boys could well make it. "Over in the Chinese Sea!" shouted Jimmie McGraw from a table which stood by an open window overlooking the brilliantly illuminated city. "Do we go to the washee-washee land this time?" "Only to the tub!" Jack Bosworth put in. "What's the answer?" asked Frank Shaw, sitting down on the edge of the table and rumpling Jimmie's red hair with both hands. Jimmie broke away and, after bouncing a football off his tormentor's back, perched himself on the back of a great easy chair. "The answer?" Jack said, after peace had been in a measure restored, "I thought everybody knew that the Chinks wash their clothes in the Gulf of Tong King and hang them out to dry on the mountains of Kwang Tung! Are we going there, Ned?" he added, turning to Ned Nestor, who sat by a nearby window, looking out over the city. "Are we going to the gulf of Tong King?" Ned left his chair by the window and walked over to the table. "I hardly know," he said, taking a roll of maps and drawings from his breast pocket and spreading them out on the table. "When Captain Moore arrives we shall know more about it." "Who's Captain Moore?" This from Jimmie, still sitting on the back of the chair, elbows on knees, chin on palms.