"Mr. Alcando!" gasped Joe.
"The Spaniard!" fairly shouted Blake.
Then, as the two chums looked on the brilliantly lighted scene, knowing that the camera was faithfully taking pictures of every move of their recent pupil, the boys saw, rushing toward Alcando, a number of the men and soldiers who had been in hiding.
"He's surrounded—as good as caught," Blake cried. "So he's the guilty one."
"Unless there's a mistake," spoke Joe.
"Mistake! Never!" shouted his chum. "Look—the brass box!"
The glare of the distant flashlight illuminated the ground at their feet, and there, directly in front of them, was the ticking box. From it trailed two wires, and, as Blake looked at them he gave a start.
The next moment he had knelt down, and with a pair of pliers he carried for adjusting the mechanism of his camera severed the wires with a quick snap. The ticking in the box still went on, but the affair was harmless now. It could not make the electrical current to discharge the deadly dynamite.
"Boys! Boys! Where are you?" cried Captain Wiltsey.
"Here!" cried Blake. "We've stopped the infernal machine!"