"Well, we're here at last!" exclaimed Joe, as he looked over the side and noticed many vessels lying about, most of them connected in some manner with the ca.n.a.l construction.

"Yes, and now for some moving pictures--at least within a day or so," went on Blake. "I'm tired of doing nothing. At last we are at Panama!"

"And I shall soon be with you, taking pictures!" cried the Spaniard. "How long do you think it will be before I can take some views myself?" he asked eagerly.

"Oh, within a week or so we'll trust you with a camera," said Blake.

"That is, if you can spare time from your alarm clock invention,"

added Joe, with a curious glance at his chum.

But if Mr. Alcando felt any suspicions at the words he did not betray himself. He smiled genially, made some of his rapid Latin gestures and exclaimed:

"Oh, the clock. He is safe asleep, and will be while I am here. I work only on moving pictures now!"

In due season Blake, Joe and Mr. Alcando found themselves quartered in the pleasant Washington Hotel, built by the Panama Railroad for the Government, where they found, transported to a Southern clime, most of the luxuries demanded by people of the North.

"Well, this is something like living!" exclaimed Blake as their baggage and moving picture cameras and accessories having been put away, they sat on the veranda and watched breaker after breaker sweep in from the Caribbean Sea.

"The only trouble is we won't be here long enough," complained Joe, as he sipped a cooling lime drink, for the weather was quite warm. "We'll have to leave it and take to the Ca.n.a.l or the jungle, to say nothing of standing up to our knees in dirt taking slides."

"Do you--er--really have to get very close to get pictures of the big slides?" asked Mr. Alcando, rather nervously, Blake thought.

"The nearer the better," Joe replied. "Remember that time, Blake, when we were filming the volcano, and the ground opened right at your feet?"

"I should say I did remember it," said Blake. "Some picture that!"

"Where was this?" asked the Spaniard.

"In earthquake land. There were _some_ times there!"

"Ha! Do not think to scare me!" cried their pupil with a frank laugh. "I said I was going to learn moving pictures and I am--slides or no slides."

"Oh, we're not trying to 'josh' you," declared Blake. "We'll all have to run some chances. But it's all in the day's work, and, after all, it's no more risky than going to war."

"No, I suppose not," laughed their pupil. "Well, when do we start?"

"As soon as we can arrange for the government tug to take us along the Ca.n.a.l," answered Blake. "We'll have to go in one of the United States vessels, as the Ca.n.a.l isn't officially opened yet.

We'll have to make some inquiries, and present our letters of introduction. If we get started with the films inside of a week we'll be doing well."

The week they had to wait until their plans were completed was a pleasant one. They lived well at the hotel, and Mr. Alcando met some Spaniards and other persons whom he knew, and to whom he introduced the boys.

Finally the use of the tug was secured, cameras were loaded with the reels of sensitive film, other reels in their light-tight metal boxes were packed for transportation, and shipping cases, so that the exposed reels could be sent to the film company in New York for developing and printing, were taken along.

Not only were Blake and Joe without facilities for developing the films they took, but it is very hard to make negatives in hot countries. If you have ever tried to develop pictures on a hot day, without an ice water bath, you can understand this. And there was just then little ice to be had for such work as photography though some might have been obtained for an emergency. Blake and Joe were only to make the exposures; the developing and printing could better be done in New York.

"Well, we'll start up the ca.n.a.l to-morrow," said Blake to Joe on the evening of their last day in Colon.

"Yes, and I'll be glad of it," remarked Joe. "It's nice enough here at this hotel, but I want to get busy."

"So do I," confessed his chum.

They were to make the entire trip through the Ca.n.a.l as guests of Uncle Sam, the Government having acceded to Mr. Hadley's request, as the completed films were to form part of the official exhibit at the exposition in California later on.

"Whew, but it _is_ hot!" exclaimed Joe, after he and Blake had looked over their possessions, to make sure they were forgetting nothing for their trip next day.

"Yes," agreed Blake. "Let's go out on the balcony for a breath of air."

Their room opened on a small balcony which faced the beach. Mr.

Alcando had a room two or three apartments farther along the corridor, and his, too, had a small balcony attached. As Blake and Joe went out on theirs they saw, in the faint light of a crescent and much-clouded moon, two figures on the balcony opening from the Spaniard's room.

"He has company," said Joe, in a low voice.

"Yes," agreed Blake. "I wonder who it is? He said all of his friends had left the hotel. He must have met some new ones."

It was very still that night, the only sounds being the low boom and hiss of the surf as it rushed up the beach. And gradually, to Joe and Blake, came the murmur of voices from the Spaniard's balcony. At first they were low, and it seemed to the boys, though neither expressed the thought, that the conference was a secret one. Then, clearly across the intervening s.p.a.ce, came the words:

"Are you sure the machine works right?"

"Perfectly," was the answer, in Mr. Alcando's tones. "I have given it every test."

Then the voices again sunk to a low murmur.

CHAPTER XI

ALONG THE Ca.n.a.l

"Blake, did you hear that?" asked Joe, after a pause, during which he and his chum could hear the low buzz of conversation from the other balcony.

"Yes, I heard it. What of it?"

"Well, nothing that I know of, and yet--"

"Yet you're more suspicious than I was," broke in Blake. "I don't see why."

"I hardly know myself," admitted Joe. "Yet, somehow, that ticking box, and what you saw in that letter--"

"Oh, nonsense!" interrupted Blake. "Don't imagine too much. You think that curious box is some attachment for a moving picture camera; do you?"

"Well, it might be, and--"

"And you're afraid he will get ahead of you in your invention of a focus tube; aren't you?" continued Blake, not giving his companion a chance to finish what he started to say. For Joe had recently happened to hit on a new idea of a focusing tube for a moving picture camera, and had applied for a patent on it. But there was some complication and his papers had not yet been granted. He was in fear lest someone would be granted a similar patent before he received his.

"Oh, I don't know as I'm afraid of that," Joe answered slowly.