"All right. We can ride over on the motor cycle."
A little later, after a quick trip on the "gasoline bicycle," the moving picture boys were at the only hotel of which Central Falls boasted. Mr. Alcando was in his room, the clerk informed the boys, and they were shown up.
"Enter!" called the voice of the Spaniard, as they knocked. "Ah, it is you, my young friends!" he cried, as he saw them, and getting up hastily from a table on which were many papers, he began hastily piling books on top of them.
"For all the world," said Joe, later, "as though he were afraid we'd see something."
"I am delighted that you have called," the Spaniard said, "and I hope you bring me good news."
"Yes," said Blake, "we are going—"
As he spoke there came in through the window a puff of air, that scattered the papers on the table. One, seemingly part of a letter, was blown to Blake's feet. He picked it up, and, as he handed it back to Mr. Alcando, the lad could not help seeing part of a sentence. It read:
"... go to Panama, get all the pictures you can, especially the big guns...."
Blake felt himself staring eagerly at the last words.