Boy Scouts in the Canal Zone: or, The Plot Against Uncle Sam

“I can tell you nothing,” was the reply.

When the men who had left the house had disappeared from sight Ned bade the captive rise that he might be searched closely for weapons.

“Say,” Jimmie cried. “There’s your tall, slender man with black hair turning gray in places. Ever in New York, Mister?” he added.

The prisoner made no reply.

“You are enough like Itto to be his brother,” Ned said. “Perhaps you won’t mind telling me which one of you stole Frank Shaw’s necklace?”

The prisoner turned his back indignantly. He was indeed a fair copy of the man called Itto, and his shoulders, narrow and high, might have made the damp stains Ned had found on the wall of the closet in the Shaw house in New York.

The stone house was now, seemingly, without an occupant and the thickets about were silent save for the noises of the night. A faint clamor came from the canal, where workmen were hewing away at the ribs of the Cordilleras, now the slight jar of an explosion, now the grinding of a steam shovel, now the nervous shrieking of the trains pushing back and forth.

The electrics over the cut drew lines of silver light on the tall trees and the foliage of the hills farther away, but here there was only a faint suggestion of illumination.

“Now you’ve got him,” Jimmie said, presently, “what you goin’ to do with him? We can’t get him to Culebra or Gatun without bumpin’ into some fresh guy who would want to take him away from us.”

“I’m afraid you’re right about that,” Ned said. “We can’t afford to have him get away and inform his companions that something of their plot is known.”

“What would they do?”

“Make new plans, and we should have to begin all over again. As the case rests now we stand a good chance of catching every one of the conspirators.”

“And the chap that stole the emerald necklace?”

“Even the necklace may drift to the surface in the eruption which is sure to take place in the near future,” smiled Ned. “Now about Gaga,” he continued. “Suppose you look around and see if you can’t find a room in the old house which would not be used to-night, even if the plotters should come.”

Jimmie hustled away and soon returned with the information that there was a room in the rear of the house, on the first floor, which would answer for a prison very well.

“But there ain’t no door to it,” he added, “an’ the glass is all out of the window. Looks like it had been deserted for a hundred years.”

“Perhaps we can rig up a door,” suggested Ned.

“What’s the use?” asked Jimmie. “I’m goin’ to stay right here with the captive until the secret service men come an’ take him away.”

“But they will not come until the case is ended,” urged Ned. “The knowledge that Gaga is a prisoner – arrested by a spy who overheard what was said in the house – ”

“I wouldn’t call myself a spy,” Jimmie said, indignantly.

“There is no dishonor in serving as a spy in a good cause,” Ned replied. “As I was saying, the mere knowledge of his arrest would disarrange our plans as much as his escape would. We would better make him secure here and leave him to his own thoughts, it seems to me.”

“I would like to have him remain,” said Gaga, much to the amazement of the boys.

“He can’t resist my winnin’ ways,” cried Jimmie. “All right. I’ll stay if you will send out about a ton of grub.”

“Perhaps the boys will object to bringing it.”

“Jack, or Frank, or any one of them,” Jimmie exclaimed. “No trouble about that. Perhaps it will take two to bring enough.”

The prisoner’s bonds were loosened so that he would not feel them drawing into the flesh, but still he was left securely tied up. The room was not unpleasant, with the starlight shining in through the dismantled doorway and the broken window, and Jimmie planned to have a good rest there during his watch.

The boy had been on his feet all the previous night, wandering about the jungle, and had taken only a short rest at the Chester camp. The prisoner was so secured that it did not seem possible for him to get away, even if left there alone, so the lad rolled a dilapidated old easy chair up to the window and lay back at his ease.

For a long time neither spoke, and then the prisoner asked:

“When will I be taken to prison?”

“Search me!” Jimmie replied.

“I take it,” the captive continued, “that the whole plot is discovered?”

“Bet your life!” Jimmie answered, drowsily.

“Then the United States government will have to put up a couple of extra prisons,” was the comment of the prisoner.

“What you doin’ it for?” demanded the boy.

The prisoner did not see fit to reply to this leading question, and Jimmie put another, equally pertinent:

“Who let you into the Shaw house that night?”

“Why do you think I was in the Shaw house?” asked the other. “Where is the Shaw house?”

“You know where it is, all right,” Jimmie said. “Who was it that let you in? That is what I want to know. An’ who opened the door for you to go out?”

There was no reply, and Jimmie piled on another question:

“Why did Pedro run away from Shaw’s and why did he run away from Chester’s camp when he saw me coming from the jungle?”

The prisoner gave a quick start, and something like a groan came from his lips.

“Is Pedrarias, the man you call Pedro, here on the Isthmus?” he asked.

“Sure he is. Didn’t he report to you after he got here?”

“Living at the Chester camp, you say?”

“He was there this morning, but ran away when he recognized me. I was at the Shaw house in New York on the night of the robbery.”

The prisoner checked a Spanish oath and struggled to rise to his feet, but fell back into his chair because of his bonds.

“There is bad blood between this man and myself,” he said, then. “If he saw me with Chester to-day he will present himself here to-night. If he comes and finds me a prisoner, bound and at his mercy – if he comes here to-night, and finds us in this room, and you are unable to deal with him, will you cut my bonds?”

“And permit you to run away together and give me the laugh?” said Jimmie. “You’re a modest kind of a fellow after all, and with nerve to spare.”

“If you do this,” Gaga replied, “I promise to return to you and submit to be bound again, if I come out of the conflict alive.”

“Do you think Pedro would murder an unarmed man, and a bound one, at that?”