The Moving Picture Boys at Panama; Or, Stirring Adventures Along the Great Canal

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER XXI

  MR. ALCANDO'S ABSENCE

  Blake spent a week at Culebra Cut, making pictures of the removalof the great mass of earth that had slid into the water. The chiefengineer, General George W. Goethals, had ordered every availableman and machine to the work, for though the Canal had not beenformally opened, many vessels had started to make trips throughit, and some of them had been blocked by the slide. It wasnecessary to get the dirt away so they could pass on their voyage.

  So with dredges, with steam shovels, and hydraulic pumps, thatsucked through big flexible pipes mud and water, spraying it offto one side, the work went on. Blake had Mr. Alcando to help him,and the Spaniard was now expert enough to render valuableassistance. While Blake was at one scene, getting views of therelief work, his pupil could be at another interesting point.

  Blake had telegraphed to New York that the one picture above allothers desired had been obtained--that of a big slide in theCulebra Cut. He did not tell how Joe had nearly lost his life inhelping get the films, for Blake was modest, as was his chum, and,as he said, it was "all in the day's work."

  Joe was left to recover from the shock and slight injuries atGatun, while Blake and Mr. Alcando were at Culebra. For the shockto the young moving picture operator had been greater than atfirst supposed, though his bodily injuries were comparativelyslight.

  "Well, what's next on the programme?" asked Joe of Blake, abouttwo weeks after the accident, when Blake had returned fromCulebra. Most of the work there was done, and the Canal was againopen, save to vessels of extreme draught.

  "I guess we'll go on making pictures of Gatun Dam now; that is, ifyou're well enough," spoke Blake. "How do you feel?"

  "Pretty fair. How did Alcando make out?"

  "All right. He's learning fast. We can trust him with a cameranow, out alone."

  "That's good. I say, Blake," and Joe's voice took on aconfidential tone, "you haven't noticed anything strange abouthim, have you?"

  "Strange? What do you mean?"

  "I mean while he was off there with you. Anything more about thatalarm clock of his? And did anything more develop about hisknowing the captain of that vessel that sunk the _Nama_?"

  "No, that was only coincidence, I think. Why, I can't say thatI've noticed anything suspicious about him, Joe, if that's whatyou mean," and Blake's voice had a questioning tone.

  "That's what I do mean," spoke Joe. "And if you haven't I have."

  "Have what?"

  "I've been watching Alcando since you and he came back, and Ithink he's decidedly queer."

  "Suspicious, you mean?"

  "I mean he acts as though something were going to happen."

  "Another landslide?" asked Blake with a laugh. "No chance of thathere at Gatun Dam."

  "No, but something else could happen, I think."

  "You mean the--dam itself?" asked Blake, suddenly serious.

  "Well, I don't exactly know what I do mean," Joe said, and hisvoice was troubled. "I'll tell you what I noticed and heard, andyou can make your own guess."

  "Go on," invited Blake. "I'm all ears, as the donkey said."

  "It's no laughing matter," retorted his chum. "Haven't younoticed since you and Alcando came back," he went on, "that heseems different, in a way. He goes about by himself, and, severaltimes I've caught him looking at the dam as though he'd never seenit before. He is wonderfully impressed by it."

  "Well, anybody would be," spoke Blake. "It's a wonderful piece ofengineering. But go on."

  "Not only that," resumed Joe, "but I've heard him talking tohimself a lot."

  "Well, that's either a bad sign, or a good one," laughed his chum."They say when a fellow talks to himself he either has money inthe bank, or he's in love. You can take your choice."

  "Not when it's the kind of talk I overheard Alcando having withhimself," Joe resumed. "I went out on the dam yesterday, and I sawhim looking at it. He didn't see me, but I heard him muttering tohimself."

  "What did he say?" Blake wanted to know.

  "I didn't hear it all," was Joe's answer, "but I caught twosentences that made me do a lot of thinking. They were these: 'Ijust hate to do it, though I'll have to, I suppose. But I'll notput the blame on'--" and Joe came to a pause.

  "Well, go on," urged Blake.

  "That's all there was," Joe continued. "I couldn't hear any more.What do you suppose he meant?"

  "He might have meant nothing--or anything," Blake remarked slowly."It sounds to me as though he meant that he had made a failure ofthe moving picture business, and was going to quit. That must beit. He meant that he had to give it up, though he hated to, andthat he wouldn't blame us for not giving him better instruction."

  "Could he have meant that?"

  "He could," Blake replied, "for, to tell you the truth, he'llnever be a good operator. He hasn't a correct eye for details, andhe can't focus worth a cent, though that might be overcome intime. He does well enough for ordinary work, but when it comes tofine details he isn't in it. I found that out back there atCulebra when he was working with me. Of course he was a lot ofhelp, and all that, but he's a failure as a moving pictureoperator."

  "I'm sorry to hear that," said Joe, with genuine sympathy.

  "So am I to have to come to that conclusion," Blake went on. "Iguess he knows it, too, for he said as much to me. So I guessthat's what his talking to himself meant."

  "Perhaps it did. Well, we did our best for him."

  "We surely did, and I guess he appreciates that. He said so,anyhow."

  "And so you're going to get some Gatun pictures and thenquit--eh?"

  "That's it, Joe, and the sooner we get them the sooner we can getback home. I've had all I want of Panama. Not that it isn't a niceplace, but we've seen all there is to see."

  "We might try a little more of the jungle."

  "We got enough of those pictures before," Blake declared. "No, thedam will wind it up, as far as we're concerned."

  If Mr. Alcando felt any sorrow over his failure as a movingpicture operator he did not show it when next he met the boys. Hewas quite cheerful.

  "Are you fully recovered, Joe?" he asked.

  "Oh, sure! I'm all right again."

  "I only wish I could have had a hand in rescuing you," theSpaniard went on. "It would have been a manner of paying, in aslight degree, the debt I owe you boys. But fate took that out ofmy hands, and you were saved by the same sort of slide thatcovered you up."

  "Yes, I guess I was born lucky," laughed Joe.

  Preparations for taking several views of the big Gatun Dam fromthe lower, or spillway side, were made. One afternoon Mr. Alcandoasked if he would be needed in making any views, and when Blaketold him he would not, the Spaniard went off by himself, taking asmall camera with him.

  "I'm going to try my luck on my own hook," he said.

  "That's right," encouraged Blake. "Go it on your ownresponsibility. Good luck!"

  "He's trying hard, at all events," said Joe, when theiracquaintance had left them.

  "Yes," agreed Joe. "He wants to make good."

  Several times after this Mr. Alcando went off, by himself for moreor less prolonged absences. Each time he took a camera with him.

  It was a small machine, made more for amateurs than forprofessionals, but it gave good practice.

  "How are you coming on?" asked Blake one day, when Mr. Alcandoreturned after a trip which, he said, had taken him to Gatun Dam.

  "Oh, pretty well, I think," was the answer, as the Spaniard setdown his camera and carrying case. "I got some good scenes, Ibelieve. When are you going to make the last of the spillwayviews?"

  Blake did not answer. He was listening to a curious sound. It wasa ticking, like that of an alarm clock, and it came from theinterior of the carrying case that held extra reels of film forthe little camera Mr. Alcando had.

  Blake felt himself staring at the black box.