"Do you think he'll ever find the opals, Tom?" asked Ned.
His chum shook his head.
"I don't believe so," he answered. "Alec has always been that way—always visionary—always just about to be successful; but never quite getting there."
"Then your father's ten thousand dollars will be lost?"
"Yes, I suppose so; but, in a way, dad can stand it. And if I make good on this gun test, ten thousand dollars won't look very big to me. I guess dad gave it to Alec from a sort of sentimental feeling, anyhow."
"You mean because he saved you from the live wire?"
"That's it, Ned. It was a sort of reward, in a way, and I guess dad won't be broken-hearted if Alec doesn't succeed. Only, of course, he'll feel badly for Alec himself. Poor old man! he won't be able to do much more prospecting. Well, Ned, let's get to work on that ammunition hoist. It still jams a little on the ways, and I want it to work smoothly. There's no use having a hitch—even a small one—when the big bugs assemble to see how my cannon shoots."
"That's right, Tom. Well, start off, I'm with you."
The two youths labored for some time, being helped, of course, by the workmen provided by the government, and some from the steel concern.
There were many little details to look after, not the least of which was the patrolling of the stretch of ocean over which the great projectiles would soar in reaching the far-off targets at which Tom had planned to shoot. No ships were to be allowed to cross the thirty-mile mark while the firing was in progress. So, also, the zone where the shots were expected to fall was to be cleared.