Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 25: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AMERICANS Their eyes peered the more keenly and their steps grew light and cautious as they came to within a bare fifty yards of the towering wooden fence that en- closed the works. Behind that fence wide-awake men were moving about, for the sound of voices came distinctly through the night. Machinery of some sort was running, too, at a considerable distance. And over there was a little gateway in the board- ing, for they could see a faint rectangular outline of light, and past it, back and forth, a sentry paced. “Not that gate for us!” breathed Hemmett. ‘ We’ll sneak along this way and look for another. I wonder if we dare go any closer?” “We'll have to,” Girton whispered. ‘“‘ We—look over there! There’s another entrance, Ned!” There was at least another outlined rectangle, and before this one no figure moved. Reaching it meant stealing along for three hundred feet and then ad- vancing directly upon the gate; and if the sentry in this case chanced to be beside the gate and alert, the expedition had reached its end. Still, now that they were within sixty or seventy feet, no hail had come. They crouched and moved onward, and through the night came a gentle snore. Twenty seconds and they were beside the sleeper —and he snored on. This sentry, at least, was typically Guanaman, for he slum- bered at the post of duty. © Hemmett’s hand was already upon the knob of the little wooden door. The thing opened’ freely, and before them lay black shadows, with the white light of arc- lamps on the mighty open space beyond. They had entered the National Engine Works! Beside them loomed a wooden build- ing, faintly illuminated, with windows well above their heads. They gazed up at the nearest, and, with a quick nod, Hemmett bent forward and braced hands on knees, while Girton, more after the fashion of an acrobat than a -retired AFTER ALL. 367 secretary of war, clambered to his broad back and stood erect. He was down again within half a minute, snarling under his breath! ‘““We’ve settled the status of the National Engine Works, first crack!” he whispered. ‘‘ That’s the shop where they finish the stocks for army rifles! There must be two thousand of them in sight, standing in racks while the varnish dries!” “Two thousand?” “Look for yourself if you like, Ned!” “Tl take your word for it,’”’ Hemmett muttered. ‘“‘ Let’s get up to the edge of this wall and see what’s to be seen.” He stole along the wooden side of the building, pausing only when another foot would have found him in the white light. Hat in hand, he peered cautiously around, down the vast yard that seemed to be the center of the establishment. Men were moving about, Guanamans for the most part, but visibly directed by at least three citizens whose blood held no Latin strain whatever—three citizens who, despite their white skins, were total strangers to a man who fancied that he knew by sight all the foreign population of Puerto Carlo! Mr. Hemmett drew a deep breath. ‘““T fancy that we’re getting the whole story in allopathic doses, Steve!” he re- ported. ‘‘ That appears to be the main shop over there, and there’s a little door partly open. Can we duck across without being seen?” ‘““Start when the chance seems good,” Girton said simply. A minute dragged along, while Hem- mett watched the moving figures intently, some near at hand, some far down the big yard. Two minutes went and then three —and quite suddenly the son-in-law of Guanama’s richest man darted into the light with Girton at his heels, darted straight for the shadows of the tre- mendous building across the yard, and vanished again in the shadows! “We got away with it!” Hemmett breathed as he tiptoed toward. the door. MICLOOOK C©