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Alcando and Captain Watson, went to the top of Gold Hill one day. They were on the highest point of the small mountain through which the cut had to be dug. "It is a wonderful piece of work," the captain said, as Blake and Joe packed up the cameras they had been using.
Blake and Joe took some views of this, and also "filmed" the passage of the various ships to make their pictures of wider appeal when they would be shown at the Panama Exposition. Mr. Alcando did his share, and, for a time seemed to show a great interest in his work, so that Blake had hopes the Spaniard would really become a good operator.
"And then came the smash," went on Hank, "and I didn't expect, any more than he did, that you fellows would come to our rescue. But you did, and now, Mr. Alcando, you can deliver your letter." "And these really are the young gentlemen whom I seek?" asked the Spaniard. "Pardon me, I do not in the least doubt your word," he added with a formal bow, "but it seems so strange."
"We'll have to leave it and take to the Canal or the jungle, to say nothing of standing up to our knees in dirt taking slides." "Do you er really have to get very close to get pictures of the big slides?" asked Mr. Alcando, rather nervously, Blake thought. "The nearer the better," Joe replied. "Remember that time, Blake, when we were filming the volcano, and the ground opened right at your feet?"
"Hand me that other roll of film; will you, please?" asked Blake of the Spaniard, who was helping them. "Mine is used up." As Mr. Alcando passed over the box he muttered, though possibly he was unaware of it: "Yes, dynamite here, or at the dam, would do the work." "What what's that?" cried Blake, in surprise. Judging by Mr.
Hadley wants us to go there and get a series of moving pictures. Incidentally he mentions that he is sending to us a gentleman who wants to go with us, if we decide to go. I presume he refers to you," and Blake nodded in the direction of Mr. Alcando. "Then you have confirmatory evidence of what my letter says?" asked the Spaniard, bowing politely. "That's what it amounts to," Blake made answer.
For a week longer they lived in the jungle, moving from place to place, camping in different locations and enjoying as much as they could the life in the wild. Blake and Joe made some good moving picture films, Mr. Alcando helping them, for he was rapidly learning how to work the cameras. But the views, of course, were not as good as those the boys had obtained when in the African jungle.
"We are the moving picture boys," answered Blake with a smile, wondering what the letter could contain, and, wondering more than ever, why a missive from the Film Theatrical Company should be brought by this unusual stranger. "Then this is for you," went on Mr. Alcando. "And to think that they saved my life!" he murmured.
It's hot!" exclaimed Joe, as they stopped to pitch a camp for dinner. "I'm going to have a swim." They were near a good-sized stream. "I'm with you," said Blake, and the boys were soon splashing away in the water, which was cool and pleasant. "Aren't you coming in?" called Blake to Mr. Alcando, who was on shore. "Yes, I think I will join you," he replied.
If it were some European nation now, that would be a different story. You don't need to worry, Blake." "No, I suppose it is foolish. But I'm glad to know you think Mr. Alcando all right. If we've got to live in close companionship with him for several months, it's a comfort to know he is all right. Now when are we to start, how do we go, where shall we make our headquarters and so on?"
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