"BE PREPARED."
We must now go back to Mr. Raynor and Merritt whom we left in the launch,
a prey to no very enviable thoughts. As the sound of Rob's and Mr.
Mainwaring's footsteps died away in the forest, they fell to speculating
on the fate of their young comrades. All at once Merritt turned to his
companion with an exclamation.
"Isn't the river current flowing more swiftly?" he asked.
Mr. Raynor gazed over the side at the muddy stream.
"It surely is," he decided. "I shouldn't wonder but there's a storm back
in the mountains."
As the stream flowed more swiftly and with greater volume Merritt looked
with some anxiety at their anchor rope. It was not a particularly thick
one and the stream was tugging frantically at the launch. Suddenly,
without the slightest warning, there was a sharp snapping sound and the
rope parted. Before they had time to exchange a word, the launch was a
hundred yards down stream. It was almost impossible to turn her about or
direct her course, but accident accomplished for them what they had not
been able to do for themselves. The _Pathfinder_ suddenly struck a sand
bank, gave a giddy sort of yaw and swung round, heading bow on down the
stream.
The next instant the current which was still rising caught her and shot
her off down stream with her bow pointing in the right direction. Mr.
Raynor grabbed the spokes of the steering wheel before the craft had a
chance to smash into the bank and Merritt set the engine slowly going on
reverse so as to check, as much as possible, the furious speed. He had
grave doubts of the patched-up link holding, but he nursed it along as
carefully as he could.
It was not till they had gone some distance that either of them had a
chance to speak, and then naturally their first words were about those
they had left behind. What anxieties beset them may be imagined. Two of
their number were lost; the pair that had set out to find them would
return either with or without the castaways, but in any case to find the
launch gone. That it was all as unavoidable as fate made no difference to
the seriousness of the situation.
The _Pathfinder_, handled with consummate skill by Mr. Raynor, reached
the Gatun settlement that evening, and the news spread like wildfire that
the boys were lost and that Mr. Mainwaring had been left, by force of
circumstances, in the forest. Everyone there appreciated the gravity of
the situation. The river was rising and it might be impossible to ascend
it for a week, even if then.
From the vivid flashes of lightning visible in the far-off peaks it was
clear that back in the wild Cordillera the storm was raging savagely. The
water continued to rise. After supper Mr. Raynor, in charge during Mr.
Mainwaring's absence, wrote out a telegram to Lieut. Col. Goethals
informing him of what had happened. Merritt, who was aching for something
to do, volunteered to take it to the little telegraph office by the
railroad track; for the head official of the canal was in Colon
inspecting the work there, having left the day before in his private car.
Mr. Raynor, perhaps seeing that Merritt would feel better with some
employment to take his mind off his worry, readily consented. The Boy
Scout set out at once. As he went he looked back at the distant peaks
several times. The lightning was playing a witches' dance above them, and
he thought with a pang of those near and dear to him who might be
wandering at that very moment among them.
The operator at the Gatun station was a talkative chap and he chatted to
Merritt while he waited for an open wire. He told him that he had had a
busy evening and grumbled quizzically at his own good nature in trying to
please other people.
"Why, only half an hour ago," he said, "a chap, a young American, I
guess, was in here and borrowed two of my batteries. Said he was
experimenting. Well, I knew him by sight and I let him have 'em. What's
the result? I've had to charge two more and the line don't work as good."
Merritt only half listened to the voluble operator's relation of his
troubles. But presently he looked up languidly as the operator said
brusquely:
"Why, here's the chap coming back now. Well, if he's after any more
batteries he don't get 'em."
A footfall sounded on the platform outside, the door opened and in came a
man at sight of whom Merritt almost fell off his chair. It was the young
man that he had seen in the barn with Jared and with whom the latter had
driven to the station the night of the fire in Hampton.
Merritt was sitting back in a corner. For the sake of coolness, there was
only one lamp in the place, a shaded one above the operator's table. A
pile of boxes stood close to Merritt and he slipped in behind them. He
had reasons of his own for not wanting to be seen just then.
"No more batteries," began the operator truculently as the stranger came
in. But the other laughed.
"It's not batteries this time," he said with a slightly foreign accent.
"It's a telegram I want to send."
"Oh, that's different. There's one ahead of you, though."
"All right; there is no hurry. I'll write mine out now."
The man sat down and rapidly wrote on a sending blank. He handed it in.
The operator looked at it a minute and then handed it back.
"Sorry; I can't take it."
"Why not? I can pay you."
The man drew out a roll of bills.
"That's not it. Your message is in cipher and we are not allowed to take
such telegrams in the zone."
"Whose orders?"
"Lieut. Col. Goethals and the U. S. Government."
"Curse them both," ground out the stranger angrily. The operator jumped
to his feet.
"See here, friend," he said, "I'm an American and I think Goethals is a
mighty fine man, too. See the point? There's the door. Now get! I'm
blamed sorry I lent you those batteries, but I'd rather you didn't return
them than come back."
Without a word the man turned and half slunk out of the door. As he
passed close by Merritt, the Boy Scout heard him mutter:
"Yes, and you and all Yankees will be sorrier yet before morning."
Merritt looked around. There was an open door behind him. Quick as a
flash he slipped through it and the next moment was following the man
through a clump of bananas that grew on each side of the road. Dodging
among the broad leaves Merritt kept his quarry in sight and stuck close
to his heels. The man walked on and then suddenly turned aside from the
main road that led back to the "gold-men's" quarters and headed down into
a sort of wild gully running to the river.
With Merritt close on his heels and blessing the shrubs that grew at the
path-side, the man, quite unconscious that anyone was on his tracks, kept
on. At length he came to a more or less tumble-down hut not far from the
river bank.
He paused here a minute and gave three low whistles. In response out came
an old negro.
"Dis funny time ob night to call?" said the old darky questioningly.
"This is a _good time of night to call_," said the man with a peculiar
emphasis. To Merritt it sounded as if the words just spoken were a sort
of countersign. At any rate nothing more was said. The old negro admitted
the stranger to the hut and closed the door.
"Now what sort of work is on foot," muttered Merritt to himself. "What
mischief are those rascals up to? It's all most mysterious. This fellow
whom we've seen with Jared first borrows electric batteries and then
tries to send a cipher message. I can't make it out."
He stood a moment irresolute as to what course to pursue. Should he go
back and tell Mr. Raynor what he had discovered? But the next minute he
decided not to. After all he had no proof; he would try to peep into the
hut and see what was going on. Cautiously he reconnoitered, completely
circling the hut. But not a gleam of light was visible.
Bit by bit he crept closer, using the utmost caution. At length he got
close to the rear wall and here, to his huge delight, he found a crack
through which he could peer at what was going on within. What he saw made
his heart leap. Round a table were seated Estrada, Alverado, the strange
man and Jared Applegate. Jared's face was white and frightened but the
others wore a sort of deadly composure. In the background stood the old
darky who had opened the door. On the table was a smoky kerosene lamp.
But on the table also were some objects that puzzled Merritt. There was a
brass lever, not unlike a telegraph key, and by it an array of batteries
with wires leading from them. The strange man was seated near the brass
key, with which he was toying carelessly, and yet with a certain caution.
"Be careful," Alverado was warning him, "don't be premature, my dear
Castro; in your eagerness you have already broken two batteries."
"Yes, but the accommodating station agent replaced them. Ha! ha! if he
had known what they were for! But he wouldn't handle cipher, confound
him!"
"That was the order of these hated Yankees. But after to-night we shall
triumph over them. One touch of that key in the right direction and----"
Estrada, who was speaking, spread his hands expressively. The others'
eyes blazed; only Jared cowered and looked badly frightened.
"Why can't you put it off till I get out of the country?" he begged.
"So we would have, because of the service you did us in showing us where
to place the--the little matter you know of. But you have been well
rewarded. Why repine? As for putting it off, what time like the present?
Mainwaring is away and those cursed little rats of spies, Boy Scouts, as
you call them, are with him. We are safe."
But Jared only cowered and quivered the more. As for Alverado, who had
uttered the words just recorded, he lit a fresh cigarette and regarded
the whining youth with scorn.
Merritt's blood almost froze as he looked on at this strange scene. He
had a quick mind, and from almost the first he had guessed what that
paraphernalia on the table meant, what the "patriots," as they doubtless
called themselves, were waiting for. But the Boy Scout did not wait. He
ran, as if on wings, from that hut in the hollow, his pulses beating like
snare drums and a fearful doubt assailing his mind.
"Would he be too late?" That was the fear that pounded at Merritt's brain
as he raced along for the "gold-men's" row of houses. At the summit of
the little hill, leading up from the hollow of the hut, he stumbled over
something, something that entangled his foot. He leaned to examine it and
then gave an astonished cry. The next moment he had whipped out his scout
knife and cut his foot loose of the encumbrance. After that for some
reason he went more slowly, but still he ran, ran to summon aid for Uncle
Sam against a gang of foul plotters.
* * * * * * * *
Half an hour later the scene in the hut was not much changed, but a tense
silence had fallen over its inmates. On every face was a strained,
anxious look, yet underlaid by an expression of exultation. Jared alone
was missing. In an agony of fear and remorse he had broken from the hut a
short time before. They had not tried to check him.
"Ready?" said Estrada, who held a watch. He was deadly pale.
The strange young man by the table shoved back a stray lock of black hair
with long, thin fingers. One hand trembled on that brass key that Merritt
had noticed.
"Let the invader! the usurper! the tyrant take warning from to-night!"
cried Alverado solemnly in a declamatory tone.
Suddenly there came a crash outside. The door was carried inward off its
hinges. A crowd of men, in the uniform of the Gatun police, burst into
the room.
"Seize that man!" cried Mr. Raynor, who was in the lead. He pointed to
the strange young man whose fingers were already pressing the key
downward.
"Betrayed!" shrieked Alverado as a revolver was knocked upward out of his
hand.
The police, taking no chances after this, sprang forward toward the man
at the key with leveled weapons.
"Surrender!" they called out.
"Not till I've blown Uncle Sam's work to Kingdom Come!" cried the wretch
with a hideous laugh.
His fingers pressed the key. But no earth-shaking explosion followed. The
tons of dynamite that had been cunningly concealed in a spill-way half a
mile off did not explode. The Gatun Dam was not hoisted skyward and the
work of years ruined.
There was only a feeble "click," echoed by two more as the handcuffs were
snapped on Alverado and Estrada.
Mr. Raynor fairly embraced Merritt and the rest crowded round him.
"If it hadn't been for you, my boy, and your presence of mind in guessing
what that wire was you stumbled across and cutting it, the dam might have
been blown up in accordance with this wretch's desires," he declared, and
then, as the miscreant, who had in vain tried to send the fatal spark to
the dynamite, was made a prisoner, Mr. Raynor raised his voice:
"Three cheers for the Boy Scouts!" he cried, "and in particular for
Merritt Crawford of the Eagles. Had it not been for his quick wits in
guessing that a plot was on foot when he saw that wretch yonder at the
Gatun station, this might have been a black night for Uncle Sam and the
Panama Canal."
The cheers were given with right good will. Soon afterward the prisoners,
including the old black man, were marched off to the lock-up maintained
at Gatun for offenders on the canal work, although, it is safe to say, it
never before housed such monsters as the would-be dynamiters of the Gatun
Dam.
"If only the rest were here and safe," said Merritt to Mr. Raynor late
that night, "I should be perfectly happy. As it is I don't feel as if I
could rest till we are reunited."
* * * * * * * *
It was the next day that the entire community, already wild with
excitement over the discovery of the plot against the dam and the capture
of the chief conspirators, was treated to a fresh thrill. Down the river,
which had somewhat subsided, came two canoes. In the first one were Rob
and Mr. Mainwaring. In the second sat Tubby and Fred. How they had met is
soon explained.
As Tubby had guessed, the river they had seen from the ruins was the
Chepalta. Its swift current had carried them into the Chagres itself and
in course of time they came to the spot where Mr. Mainwaring and Fred,
sadly distressed and worried over the loss of the launch, had decided to
spend the night. They had built a roaring fire to keep off serpents or
wild beasts, and Tubby and Fred, as soon as they saw the blaze, had made
for it. In a few seconds a joyful reunion had taken place. As more sleep
that night was out of the question, they had waited till the first flush
of dawn and then emptied one of the provision canoes. In this Mr.
Mainwaring and Rob seated themselves and they all paddled back to
civilization.
Their amazement when they heard of what had been taking place at Gatun
during their absence may be, to use a phrase hackneyed but apt, "better
imagined than described." There is no space here to relate all that
followed or to give the details of the trial and sentencing of the
rascally plotters. It was found, for they confessed in hope of immunity,
that the plot was far more widely organized than had been thought. Dozens
of laborers were implicated before the end, and it was the number engaged
that had made it possible for them to elude the vigilance of the Gatun
Guards, secrete so much dynamite and then connect it with wires to the
lonely hut in the hollow. As for the strange young man, it was found that
he had been a chemist specializing on explosives, who had thought to
avenge his country's fancied wrongs by enlisting with the plotters.
Had it not been for Merritt, who received the personal congratulations of
Col. Goethals and the Commission, there is little doubt but that the
great dam might have been damaged almost beyond hope of reconstruction.
The boy bore his honors modestly, as became a true Scout, and of course
the story did not get to the newspapers, so that he was spared the
embarrassment of being interviewed and lionized. His comrades felt for
him nothing but pride and admiration.
Those pebbles that Tubby picked up proved to be raw emeralds of great
value and you may be sure that each of his friends was presented with
one. The chums of Lucy Mainwaring, too, have noticed that she now wears a
brooch set with a magnificent emerald, by which she seems to set great
store. Who gave it to her we will leave our readers to guess.
Jared Applegate managed in some way to evade the drag-net set for him,
and has not been seen or heard of since the night he slipped out of the
hut overcome at the last minute by the thought of the terrible crime he
had committed.
I should like to linger with you in this fascinating old land with its
new interests and tell you how the ruined city in which Tubby and Fred
passed such an uncomfortable time was explored and rare treasures of
antiquity found. I should also like to relate more of the adventures that
befell the chums among the "Gold-men" of the Isthmus, but I must content
myself with what has been written and my readers with the prophecy that
the future will be able to recall no more noble achievement than this
that has been the subject of our tale.
You are assured, however, that the Boy Scouts returned to their studies
and to the States better citizens, better patriots and better Scouts for
the exciting times they spent on Uncle Sam's big ditch--the eighth
wonder, and the greatest of the world. Let every American boy, who gets a
chance, see it. It will strengthen and cement his love for the Stars and
Stripes and for the U. S. A., the country that put the gigantic
enterprise through in spite of almost overwhelming difficulties.
And now the time has come to say good-bye to the Boy Scouts. So wishing
them well in everything they undertake and hoping that they may ever be
"good scouts and true," the author bids a reluctant adieu to them and to
the readers who have followed the "Eagles" through their many adventures.
THE END
_SAVE THE WRAPPER!_
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The Hampton Academy boys discover a plot to steal Government airplane
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The Boy Scouts find a band of "Moonshiners," a lost cave and a hidden
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The trial trip of a new submarine, a strange derelict and a treasure
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Transcriber's note:
--Obvious typographical errors were corrected without comment.