looked eagerly at the boys.

"We'll teach you all we know, which isn't such an awful lot," said
Joe. "And I don't believe you'll be slow."

"You have picked up some of it already," went on Blake, for while
delaying over making their arrangements in New York the boys and
their pupil had gone into the rudiments of moving picture work.

"I am glad you think so," returned the other. "I shall be glad
when we are at work, and more glad still, when I can, with my own
camera, penetrate into the fastness of the jungle, along the lines
of our railroad, and show what we have done to bring civilization
there. The film will be the eyes of the world, watching our
progress," he added, poetically.

"Why don't you come up on deck," he proceeded. "It is warm down
here."

"We just came down," said Joe, "but it is hot," for they were
approaching nearer to the Equator each hour.

While the boys were following the young Spaniard up on deck, Joe
found a chance to whisper to Blake:

"I notice he was not at all anxious to show us how his brass-box
alarm clock worked."

"No," agreed Blake in a low voice, "and yet his invention might
be in such a shape that he didn't want to exhibit it yet."

"So you think that's the reason, eh?"

"Surely. Don't you?"

"I do not!"

"What then?"

"Well, I think he's trying to--"

"Hush, here he comes!" cautioned Blake, for their friend at that
moment came back from a stroll along the forward deck.

But if Joe was really suspicious of the young Spaniard nothing
that occurred in the next few days served to develop that
suspicion. No reference was made to the odd alarm clock, which was
not heard to tick again, nor was it in evidence either in Mr.
Alcando's bed, or elsewhere.

"What were you going to say it was that time when I stopped you?"
asked Blake of his chum one day.

"I was going to say I thought it might be some sort of an
improvement on a moving picture camera," Joe answered. "This may
be only a bluff of his--wanting to learn how to take moving
pictures. He may know how all along, and only be working on a
certain improvement that he can't perfect until he gets just the
right conditions. That's what I think."

"Well, you think wrong," declared Blake. "As for him knowing
something about the pictures now, why he doesn't even know how to
thread the film into the camera."

"Oh, well, maybe I'm wrong," admitted Joe.

Day succeeded day, until, in due time, after their stop at San
Juan,