“Nothin’ stirrin’ here,” he panted. “You lie still.”
“What does this mean?”
The words were English and the voice was certainly that of a man from one of the Eastern states of the North American republic.
Ned drew a noose around the prisoner’s wrists and tied his rather delicate hands together firmly behind his back. Then he searched him for weapons. A revolver was found in a hip pocket, also a package of papers in a breast pocket. The fellow cursed and swore like a pirate when the papers were taken.
“This is highway robbery,” he finally calmed down enough to say. “I am an official of the Zone, and you shall suffer for this.”
“Gee,” said Jimmie, with a chuckle, “you must have a contract to lift the canal an’ the Gatun dam into the blue sky.”
The prisoner snarled at the lad a moment and turned to Ned.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“What are your men doing down there?” Ned asked, ignoring the question.
“They are removing explosives, explosives to be used in the work at Gatun.”