dded
in a meaning tone: "You are English and your life has been threatened by
men who plot against your country. I might urge that they may try again
and I could protect you; but you must see what their thinking you
dangerous means. Now I want your help."

Dick's face was very resolute as he looked at him. "If any harm comes to
the liner, I'll do all I can. But I'll do nothing until I know. In the
meantime, can you warn the captain?"

Don Sebastian bowed. "I must be satisfied with your promise. We may find
the key to the telegram, and must try to get into communication with the
steamer."

They went down stairs together, but the Spaniard did not leave the office
with Dick, who went out alone and found Bethune and Jake waiting at the
end of the line. They bantered him about his leaving them on board the
ship, but although he thought Jake looked at him curiously, he told them
nothing.

When work stopped on the Saturday evening, Jake and Dick went to dine
with Bethune. It was getting dark when they reached a break in the dam,
where a gap had been left open while a sluice was being built. A
half-finished tower rose on the other side and a rope ladder hung down
for the convenience of anybody who wished to cross. A large iron pipe
that carried water to a turbine, however, spanned the chasm, and the
sure-footed peons often used it as a bridge. This required some agility
and nerve, but it saved an awkward scramble across the sluice and up the
concrete.

"There's just light enough," Jake remarked, and balancing himself
carefully, walked out upon the pipe.

Dick followed and getting across safely, stopped at the foot of the tower
and looked down at the rough blocks and unfinished ironwork in the bottom
of the gap.

"The men have been told to use the ladder, but as they seldom do so, it
would be safer to run a wire across for a hand-rail," he said. "Anybody
who slipped would get a dangerous fall."

They went on to Bethune's iron shack, where Stuyvesant joined them, and
after dinner sat outside, talking and smoking. A carafe of Spanish wine
and some glasses stood on a table close by.

"I've fired Jose's and Pancho's gangs; they've been asking for it for
some time," Stuyvesant remarked. "In fact, I'd clear out most of the
shovel boys if I could replace them. They've been saving money and are
getting slack."

The others agreed that it might be advisable. The half-breeds from the
hills, attracted by good wages, worked wel