lighthouse, a distance of fifty miles."

"Fifty miles! That's some light!" gasped Ned.

"Well, you must remember that the Highlands light is up on a very
high hill, and the tower is also high, so there is quite an
elevation, and then think of ninety-five million candle power--think
of it!"

"I can't!" cried Ned. "It gives me a head-ache."

"Well, of course I'm not going to try to beat that," went on Tom
with a laugh, "but I am going to have a very powerful light." And he
then related how he had accidently discovered a new way to connect
the wires, so as to get, from a dynamo and a storage battery a much
stronger, and different, current than usual.

"I'm making the searchlight now," Tom continued, "and soon I'll be
ready to put in the lens, and the carbons."

"And then what?"

"Then I'm going to attach it to my noiseless airship, and we'll have
a night flight. It may work, and it may not. If it does, I think
we'll have some astonishing results."

"I think we will, Tom. Can I do anything to help you?"

"Yes, file some of the rough edges off these sheets of brass, if you
will. There's an old pair of gloves to put on to protect your hands,
otherwise you'll be almost sure to cut 'em, when the file slips.
That brass is extra hard."

The two boys were soon working away, and were busy over the big
lantern when Mr. Whitford came along. Koku was, as usual, on guard
at the outer door of the shop, but he knew the custom officer, and
at once admitted him.

"Well, Tom, how you coming on?" he asked.

"Pretty good. I think I've got just what I want. A powerful light
for night work."

"That's good. You'll need it. They've got so they only smuggle the
goods over in the night now. How soon do you think you'll be able to
get on the border for Uncle Sam?"

"Why, is there any great rush?" asked Tom, as he noticed a look of
annoyance pass over the agent's face.

"Yes, the smugglers have been hitting us pretty hard lately. My
superiors are after me to do something, but I can't seem to do it.
My men are working hard, but we can't catch the rascals."

"You see, Tom, they've stopped, temporarily, bringing goods over the
St. Lawrence. They're working now in the neighborhood of Huntington,
Canada, and the dividing line between the British possessions and
New York State, runs along solid ground there. It's a wild and
desolate part of country, too, and I haven't many men up there."

"Don't the Canadian custom officers help?" as