e; will he not?" and he glanced at
Blake.

"Probably," was the answer. Blake was doing some hard thinking
just then.

"But so you have decided to go to the Canal?" asked the Spaniard,
when he had collected his scattered papers.

"Yes, we are going down there," answered Blake, "and as Mr. Hadley
wishes you to go along, of course we'll take you with us, and
teach you all we know."

"I hope I shall not be a burden to you, or cause you any trouble,"
responded the Spaniard, politely, with a frank and engaging smile.

"Oh, no, not at all!" returned Joe, cordially. He had taken quite
a liking to the chap, and anticipated pleasure in his company.
Usually when he and Blake went off on moving picture excursions
they had some members of the Film Theatrical Company with them, or
they met friends on the way, or at their destination. But neither
C.C. Piper, nor any of the other actors were going to the Canal,
so Blake and Joe would have had to go alone had it not been for
the advent of Mr. Alcando.

"We're very glad to have you with us," added Blake. "How soon can
you be ready to go?"

"Whenever you are. I can leave to-day, if necessary."

"There isn't any necessity for such a rush as that," Blake said,
with a laugh. "We'll finish out our week's vacation, and then go
to New York. Our cameras will need overhauling after the hard
service they got in the flood, and we'll have to stay in New York
about a week to get things in shape. So we'll probably start for
the Canal in about two weeks."

"That will suit me excellently. I shall be all ready for you,"
said the Spaniard.

"Then I'll write to Mr. Hadley to expect us," Blake added.

The boys left Mr. Alcando straightening out his papers, and
started back through the town to the farm.

"What made you act so funny, Blake, when you picked up that piece
of paper?" asked Joe, when they had alighted from their motor
cycle at the Baker homestead a little later.

"Well, to tell you the truth, Joe, I was a bit suspicious."

"What about; that gun business?"

"Yes," and Blake's voice was serious.

"Buttermilk and corn cakes!" cried Joe with a laugh. "You don't
mean to say you think this fellow is an international spy; do you?
Trying to get secrets of the United States fortifications at the
Canal?"

"Well, I don't know as I exactly believe _that_, Joe, and yet it
was strange someone should be writing to him about the big guns."

"Yes, maybe; but then he explained it all righ