“Well, anybody would be,” spoke Blake.  “It’s a wonderful piece of engineering.  But go on.”

“Not only that,” resumed Joe, “but I’ve heard him talking to himself a lot.”

“Well, that’s either a bad sign, or a good one,” laughed his chum.  “They say when a fellow talks to himself he either has money in the bank, or he’s in love.  You can take your choice.”

“Not when it’s the kind of talk I overheard Alcando having with himself,” Joe resumed.  “I went out on the dam yesterday, and I saw him looking at it.  He didn’t see me, but I heard him muttering to himself.”

“What did he say?” Blake wanted to know.

“I didn’t hear it all,” was Joe’s answer, “but I caught two sentences that made me do a lot of thinking.  They were these:  ’I just hate to do it, though I’ll have to, I suppose.  But I’ll not put the blame on’—­” and Joe came to a pause.

“Well, go on,” urged Blake.

“That’s all there was,” Joe continued.  “I couldn’t hear any more.  What do you suppose he meant?”

“He might have meant nothing—­or anything,” Blake remarked slowly.  “It sounds to me as though he meant that he had made a failure of the moving picture business, and was going to quit.  That must be it.  He meant that he had to give it up, though he hated to, and that he wouldn’t blame us for not giving him better instruction.”

“Could he have meant that?”

“He could,” Blake replied, “for, to tell you the truth, he’ll never be a good operator.  He hasn’t a correct eye for details, and he can’t focus worth a cent, though that might be overcome in time.  He does well enough for ordinary work, but when it comes to fine details he isn’t in it.  I found that out back there at Culebra when he was working with me.  Of course he was a lot of help, and all that, but he’s a failure as a moving picture operator.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Joe, with genuine sympathy.

“So am I to have to come to that conclusion,” Blake went on.  “I guess he knows it, too, for he said as much to me.  So I guess that’s what his talking to himself meant.”

“Perhaps it did.  Well, we did our best for him.”

“We surely did, and I guess he appreciates that.  He said so, anyhow.”

“And so you’re going to get some Gatun pictures and then quit—­eh?”

“That’s it, Joe, and the sooner we get them the sooner we can get back home.  I’ve had all I want of Panama.  Not that it isn’t a nice place, but we’ve seen all there is to see.”

“We might try a little more of the jungle.”

“We got enough of those pictures before,” Blake declared.  “No, the dam will wind it up, as far as we’re concerned.”

If Mr. Alcando felt any sorrow over his failure as a moving picture operator he did not show it when next he met the boys.  He was quite cheerful.

“Are you fully recovered, Joe?” he asked.

“Oh, sure!  I’m all right again.”