“Here,” the lieutenant said. “You boys mustn’t be seen with me. You are not supposed to be connected with the secret service in any way.”
“No, I suppose not,” chuckled Jimmie. “I suppose they come here an’ put bombs under our cottage, an’ lug us off to deserted houses, an’ all that, thinkin’ we’re down here in search of a new kind of butterfly. If anybody should ask you, the plotters know just as much about our arrangement as we do.”
Ned, who had been following along behind the others, broke into a laugh.
“The boy has the situation sized up correctly,” he said.
“Then come along,” growled the lieutenant. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going to have a look at the Culebra cut,” was the reply. “You said we might ramble about the Isthmus all we wanted to.”
“But why go with me, and at night?” asked the officer.
“We want to see the work going on under electricity,” Peter replied.
“Let them go,” advised Ned. “If they can’t take care of themselves it is time we found it out.”
The fact was that the boys had learned from the cook that the lieutenant had come to the vicinity of the cottage in an automobile, and they thought this a fine chance to secure a ride to the famous excavation. There was at least another member of the party who seemed to think just as they did, for when the machine purred out into the rough road leading from the path to Gatun the slight figure of Gastong vaulted into the back seat with the boys and motioned to them to remain quiet.