MR. ALCANDO DISAPPEARS
For several seconds Blake and Joe stood there--without
moving--only listening. And that strange noise they heard kept up
its monotonous note.
"Hear it!" whispered Joe.
"Yes," answered Blake. "The brass box--the box--he had!"
"Yes," whispered Joe. All the suspicions he had had--all those he
had laughed at Blake for harboring, came back to him in a rush.
The brass-bound box contained clockwork. Was it an alarm after
all? Certainly it had given an alarm now--a most portentous alarm!
"We've got to find it!" said Blake.
"Sure," Joe assented. "It may go off any minute now. We've got to
find it. Seems to be near here."
They began looking about on the ground, as though they could see
anything in that blackness. But they were trying to trace it by
the sound of the ticks. And it is no easy matter, if you have ever
tried to locate the clock in a dark room.
"We ought to give the alarm," said Blake.
"Before it is too late," assented Joe. "Where can it be? It seems
near here, and yet we can't locate it."
"Get down on your hands and knees and crawl around," advised
Blake. In this fashion they searched for the elusive tick-tick.
They could hear it, now plainly, and now faintly, but they never
lost it altogether. And each of them recognized the peculiar
clicking sound as the same they had heard coming from the
brass-bound box Mr. Alcando had said was his new alarm clock.
"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Blake.
Off to the left, where was planted the automatic camera, came a
faint noise. It sounded like a suppressed exclamation. Then came
an echo as if someone had fallen heavily.
An instant later the whole scene was lit up by a brilliant
flash--a flash that rivaled the sun in brightness, and made Blake
and Joe stare like owls thrust suddenly into the glare of day.
"The dynamite!" gasped Joe, unconsciously holding himself in
readiness for a shock.
"The flashlight--the automatic camera!" cried Blake. There was no
need for silence now.
The whole scene was brilliantly lighted, and remained so for many
seconds. And in the glare of the magnesium powder the moving
picture boys saw a curious sight.
Advancing toward the dam was a solitary figure, which had come to
halt when the camera went off with the flashlight. It was the
figure of a man who had evidently just arisen after a fall.
"Mr. Alcando!" gasped Joe.
"The Spaniard!" fairly shouted Blake.
Then, as the two chums looked on the brilliantly lighted scene,
knowing that the camera was faithfully taking pictures of every
move of their recent pupil, the boys saw, rushing toward Alcando,
a number of the men and soldiers who had been in hiding.
"He's surrounded--as good as caught," Blake cried. "So he's the
guilty one."
"Unless there's a mistake," spoke Joe.
"Mistake! Never!" shouted his chum. "Look--the brass box!"
The glare of the distant flashlight illuminated the ground at
their feet, and there, directly in front of them, was the ticking
box. From it trailed two wires, and, as Blake looked at them he
gave a start.
The next moment he had knelt down, and with a pair of pliers he
carried for adjusting the mechanism of his camera severed the
wires with a quick snap. The ticking in the box still went on, but
the affair was harmless now. It could not make the electrical
current to discharge the deadly dynamite.
"Boys! Boys! Where are you?" cried Captain Wiltsey.
"Here!" cried Blake. "We've stopped the infernal machine!"
"And we've got the dynamiter. He's your friend--"
The rest of the words died away as the light burned itself out.
Intense blackness succeeded.
"Come on!" cried Joe. "They've got him. We won't have to work the
hand cameras. The automatic did it!"
They stumbled on through the darkness. Lanterns were brought and
they saw Mr. Alcando a prisoner in the midst of the Canal guards.
The Spaniard looked at the boys, and smiled sadly.
"Well, it--it's all over," he said. "But it isn't as bad as it
seems."
"It's bad enough, as you'll find," said Captain Wiltsey grimly.
"Are you sure the wires are disconnected, boys?" he asked.
"Sure," replied Blake, holding out the brass box.
"Oh, so you found it," said the Spaniard. "Well, even if it had
gone off there wouldn't have been much of an explosion."
"It's easy enough to say that--now," declared the captain.
But later, when they followed up the wires which Blake had
severed, which had run from the brass-bound box to a point near
the spillway of the dam, it was found that only a small charge of
dynamite had been buried there--a charge so small that it could
not possibly have done more than very slight damage to the
structure.
"I can't understand it," said Captain Wiltsey. "They could just as
well have put a ton there, and blown the place to atoms, and yet
they didn't use enough to blow a boulder to bits. I don't
understand it."
"But why should Mr. Alcando try to blow up the dam at all?" asked
Blake, "That's what I can't understand."
But a little later they did, for the Spaniard confessed. He had to
admit his part in the plot, for the moving pictures, made by the
automatic camera, were proof positive that he was the guilty one.
"Yes, it was I who tried to blow up the dam," Alcando admitted,
"but, as you have seen, it was only to be an attempt to damage it.
It was never intended to really destroy it. It was an apparent
attempt, only."
"But what for?" he was asked.
"To cause a lack of confidence in the Canal," was the unexpected
answer. "Those I represent would like to see it unused. It is
going to ruin our railroad interests."
Then he told of the plot in detail.
Alcando was connected, as I have told you, with a Brazilian
railroad. The road depended for its profits on carrying goods
across South America. Once the Canal was established goods could
be transported much more cheaply and quickly by the water route.
The railroad owners knew this and saw ruin ahead of them if the
Canal were to be successful. Consequently they welcomed every
delay, every accident, every slide in Culebra Cut that would put
off the opening of the great waterway.
But the time finally came when it was finished, and a success.
Then one of the largest stockholders of the railroad, an
unprincipled man, planned a plot. At first his fellow stockholders
would not agree to it, but he persuaded them, painting the ruin of
their railroad, and saying only slight damage would be done to the
Canal.
His plan was to make a slight explosion, or two or more of them,
near Culebra Cut or at the great dam. This, he anticipated, would
cause shippers to regard the Canal with fear, and refuse to send
their goods through it. In that way the railroad would still hold
its trade.
Alcando was picked for the work. He did not want to undertake it,
but he was promised a large sum, and threats were made against
him, for the originator of the plot had a certain hold over him.
"But I was to throw the blame on innocent parties if I could," the
Spaniard went on, in his confession. "Also I was to select a means
of causing the explosion that would not easily be detected. I
selected moving pictures as the simplest means. I knew that some
were to be made of the Canal for Government use, and I thought if
I got in with the moving picture operators I would have a good
chance, and good excuse, for approaching the dam without being
suspected. After I had accomplished what I set out to do I could,
I thought, let suspicion rest on the camera men.
"So I laid my plans. I learned that Mr. Hadley's firm had received
the contract to make the views, and, by inquiries, through spies,
I learned who their principal operators were. It was then I came
to you boys," he said. "Ashamed as I am to confess it, it was my
plan to have the blame fall on you."
Blake and Joe gasped.
"But when you saved my life at the broken bridge that time, of
course I would not dream of such a dastardly trick," the Spaniard
resumed. "I had to make other plans. I tried to get out of it
altogether, but that man would not let me. So I decided to
sacrifice myself. I would myself blow up the dam, or, rather, make
a little explosion that would scare prospective shippers. I did
not care what became of me as long as I did not implicate you. I
could not do that.
"So I changed my plans. Confederates supplied the dynamite, and I
got this clock-work, in the brass-bound box, to set it off by
means of electrical wires. I planned to be far away when it
happened, but I would have left a written confession that would
have put the blame where it belonged.
"I kept the battery box connections and clockwork inside the small
camera I carried. Tonight all was in readiness. The dynamite was
planted, and I set the mechanism. But something went wrong with
it. There was too much of a delay. I came back to change the
timer. I broke the string connections you made, and--I was caught
by the camera. The news had, somehow, leaked out, and I was
caught. Well, perhaps it is better so," and he shrugged his
shoulders with seeming indifference.
"But please believe me when I say that no harm would have come to
you boys," he went on earnestly, "nor would the dam have been
greatly damaged.
"It was all a terrible plot in which I became involved, not all
through my own fault," went on the Spaniard, dramatically. "As
soon as I met you boys, after you had saved my life, I repented of
my part, but I could not withdraw. The plans of this scoundrel
--yes, I must call him so, though perhaps I am as great--his
plans called for finding out something about the big guns that
protect the Canal. Only I was not able to do that, though he
ordered me to in a letter I think you saw."
Blake nodded. He and Joe were beginning to understand many strange
things.
"One of the secret agents brought me the box containing the
mechanism that was to set off the dynamite," the Spaniard resumed.
"You nearly caught him," he added, and Blake recalled the episode
of the cigar smoke. "I had secret conferences with the men engaged
with me in the plot," the conspirator confessed. "At times I
talked freely about dynamiting the dam, in order to throw off the
suspicions I saw you entertained regarding me. But I must explain
one thing. The collision, in which the tug was sunk, had nothing
to do with the plot. That was a simple accident, though I did know
the captain of that unlucky steamer.
"Finally, after I had absented myself from here several times, to
see that all the details of the plot were arranged, I received a
letter telling me the dynamite had been placed, and that, after I
had set it off, I had better flee to Europe."
Blake had accidentally seen that letter.
"I received instructions, the time we were starting off on the
tug," went on Alcando, "that the original plot was to be changed,
and that a big charge of dynamite was to be used instead of a
small one.
"But I refused to agree to it," he declared. "I felt that, in
spite of what I might do to implicate myself, you boys would be
blamed, and I could not have that if the Canal were to suffer
great damage. I would have done anything to protect you, after
what you did in saving my worthless life," he said bitterly. "So I
would not agree to all the plans of that scoundrel, though he
urged me most hotly.
"But it is all over, now!" he exclaimed with a tragic gesture. "I
am caught, and it serves me right. Only I can be blamed. My good
friends, you will not be," and he smiled at Blake and Joe. "I am
glad all the suspense is at an end. I deserve my punishment. I did
not know the plot had been discovered, and that the stage was set
to make so brilliant a capture of me. But I am glad you boys had
the honor.
"But please believe me in one thing. I really did want to learn
how to take moving pictures, though it was to be a blind as to my
real purpose. And, as I say, the railroad company did not want to
really destroy the dam. After we had put the Canal out of business
long enough for us to have amassed a fortune we would have been
content to see it operated. We simply wanted to destroy public
confidence in it for a time."
"The worst kind of destruction," murmured Captain Wiltsey. "Take
him away, and guard him well," he ordered the soldiers. "We will
look further into this plot to-morrow."
But when to-morrow came there was no Mr. Alcando. He had managed
to escape in the night from his frail prison, and whither he had
gone no one knew.
But that he had spoken the truth was evident. A further
investigation showed that it would have been impossible to have
seriously damaged the dam by the amount of dynamite hidden. But,
as Captain Wiltsey said, the destruction of public confidence
would have been a serious matter.
"And so it was Alcando, all along," observed Blake, a few days
later, following an unsuccessful search for the Spaniard.
"Yes, our suspicions of him were justified," remarked Blake. "It's
a lucky thing for us that we did save his life, mean as he was. It
wouldn't have been any joke to be suspected of trying to blow up
the dam."
"No, indeed," agreed Blake. "And suspicion might easily have
fallen on us. It was a clever trick. Once we had the Government
permission to go all over with our cameras, and Alcando, as a
pupil, could go with us, he could have done almost anything he
wanted. But the plot failed."
"Lucky it did," remarked Joe. "I guess they'll get after that
railroad man next."
But the stockholder who was instrumental in forming the plot, like
Alcando, disappeared. That they did not suffer for their parts in
the affair, as they should have, was rumored later, when both of
them were seen in a European capital, well supplied with money.
How they got it no one knew.
The Brazilian Railroad, however, repudiated the attempt to damage
the Canal, even apparently, laying all the blame on the two men
who had disappeared. But from then on more stringent regulations
were adopted about admitting strangers to vital parts of the
Canal.
"But we're through," commented Blake one day, when he and Joe had
filmed the last views of the big waterway. "That Alcando was a
'slick' one, though."
"Indeed he was," agreed Joe. "The idea of calling that a new alarm
clock!" and he looked at the brass-bound box. Inside was a most
complicated electrical timing apparatus, for setting off charges
of explosive. It could be adjusted to cause the detonation at any
set minute, giving the plotter time to be a long way from the
scene.
And, only because of a slight defect, Alcando would have been far
from the scene when the little explosion occurred at Gatun Dam.
Once more the great Canal was open to traffic. The last of the
slide in Culebra Cut had been taken out, and boats could pass
freely.
"Let's make a trip through now, just for fun," suggested Blake to
Joe one day, when they had packed up their cameras.
Permission was readily granted them to make a pleasure trip
through to Panama, and it was greatly enjoyed by both of them.
"Just think!" exclaimed Blake, as they sat under an awning on the
deck of their boat, and looked at the blue water, "not a thing to
do."
"Until the next time," suggested Joe.
"That's right--we never do seem to be idle long," agreed Blake. "I
wonder what the 'next time' will be?"
And what it was, and what adventures followed you may learn by
reading the next volume of this series, to be called "The Moving
Picture Boys Under the Sea; Or, The Treasure on the Lost Ship."
"Here you go, Blake!" cried Joe, a few days later. "Letter for
you!"
"Thanks. Get any yourself?"
"Yes, one."
"Huh! How many do you want?" asked Blake, as he began reading his
epistle. "Well, I'll soon be back," he added in a low voice, as he
finished.
"Back where?" asked Joe.
"To New York."
And so, with these pleasant thoughts, we will take leave of the
moving picture boys.
THE END