ut. "The only hope is that he
isn't guilty," mused Blake, "and yet running away just before the
accusation was made public looks bad, just as Mr. Stanton said. However,
I'm not going to think about it." As long as it had gone thus far
without any outsider giving away the secret to Joe, his chum began to
feel that there was little danger.

"Well, you haven't any more infernal machines; have you, boys?" the
hotel clerk asked them when they came in to get their keys. "Because, if
you have, just keep quiet about 'em. I don't want to be awakened in the
middle of the night with some one from the bureau of combustibles coming
down here," and he laughed.

"No, we're all out of dynamite," responded Blake, in the same spirit.

He and Joe were early at the office of the sailing master, who made a
specialty of fitting out vessels with crews. With a rather trembling
voice Joe asked for information about Mr. Duncan.

"Duncan--Duncan," mused the agent, as he looked over his books. "Seems
to me I remember the name. Was he the Duncan from somewhere down the
coast?"

"The Rockypoint light," supplied Joe.

"Oh, yes, now I know. But why are you asking?" and the agent turned a
rather suspicious look on Joe. "Is there anything wrong--is Mr. Duncan
wanted for anything? I always try to protect my clients, you know, and I
must find out why you are asking. Has he committed any crime, or is he
wanted by anyone?"

Blake started at the coincidence of the words.

"Yes," answered Joe; "he is wanted by me--I'm his son, and I'd like very
much to find him. We found some of his letters, and there was one from
you about a berth you might have vacant."

"That's right, my boy, and I'm glad to learn that is why you want Nate
Duncan, for he and I are friends in a way."

"But has he shipped?" asked Joe, eagerly.

"He has," answered the agent. "He signed for a trip to China, and it
will be a good while before he gets back here, I'm afraid. It's a long
voyage."

"To China!" cried Joe. "Oh, if he had only received my letter he would
be here now with me. Poor Dad!"

CHAPTER XIII

A MIMIC FIRE

"Sorry I can't do any more for you," went on the agent, after a pause,
during which he gazed sympathetically at Joe. "I can give you the name
of the vessel your father is on, and you can write to Hong Kong, but it
will be some time before she arrives. She's a sailing ship, you know,
one of the few left in the trade."

"I didn't know my father wa