in of hot water, and it yielded its secret. It
was the outer wrapper of a stick of dynamite; it bore the circular
stamp of the manufacturers, the "Sociedad Anonyma de las Costas del
Pacifico." This, in itself, meant nothing. The same company probably
supplied hundreds of mines with the five-pound boxes in which dynamite
is packed, and, if the stamp were the only clue, none could possibly
say when or where it had been issued for use.

But miners are apt to be careless; men accustomed to dynamite will
handle it with an astounding disregard for danger. And here was a case
in point. Some Spanish overseer, evidently at a loss for a memorandum
tablet, had scribbled hieroglyphics with an indelible pencil on this
particular wrapper. It was clear that the figures and abbreviated
words referred to the development of a cross-heading and the position
of certain lodes, but Courtenay was quick to see that the official who
made those notes would recognize them. Hence, the mine or store from
which the package had been stolen or bought could be identified. Such
evidence was of high circumstantial value. Courtenay put the wrapper
in the same drawer as the cartridges, entered in the log the time and
manner of its discovery, and forthwith dismissed it from his mind.

It was almost dark when he went on deck. The wind was keen and chilly.
It whistled through the broken windows of the wheel-house, and seemed
to have in it a promise of bad weather. But a glance aloft and at the
sky beyond the southern headland--Point _Kansas_, as it was called on
board--reassured him. The far-flung arc overhead was cloudless. The
stars of the southern hemisphere, vivid and bright, though less
familiar than those of the north, were reflected in the black water.
The ship was so still, the surroundings so peaceful, save for the plash
of tiny waves created by the breeze, that he was almost startled when a
soft voice came from the lower deck:

"Where in the world have you been, Captain Courtenay? Joey is fretting
for you, and I have carried him all over the ship in vain search."

His heart jumped with gladness. Elsie was awaiting him at the foot of
the companion. Be sure he was by her side without needless delay. The
dog wriggled in her arms, so she said:

"I don't think he ought to run about. His dear little paw is rather
badly cut, and there may be more broken glass on the deck."

"I hope not, for our Chileans' sake," laughed Courtenay. "I