“I have my marching orders,” laughed the Spaniard.  “I leave you this week, for my own particular jungle.  Now I must arrange to get my cameras.”

“We’ll help you,” offered Joe, and then, with the catalogue of a moving picture supply house before them, the boys sat down to plan what sort of an outfit would best be suited to the needs of Mr. Alcando.  He was not limited as to money, it was evident, for he picked out the most expensive cameras possible to buy.

“I wish you boys would come and see me, when I get to work taking views along our railroad line,” he said.  “It isn’t altogether a selfish invitation,” he added with a laugh, “for I expect you could give me good advice, and correct some of my mistakes.”

“I’m afraid we won’t get a chance to go to South America,” Blake answered.

With a tentative list of what he needed, Mr. Alcando went to write a letter to his railroad officials, asking them to order his outfit for him.

As Blake pushed back his chair, intending to leave the cabin to seek his own stateroom, he saw, on the floor, a piece of paper.  Idly he picked it up, and, as he saw it was part of a letter to the Spaniard he folded it, to hand to him.  But, as he did so he caught sight of a few words on it.  And those words made him stare in wonder.  For Blake read: 

“Stuff is all ready for you.  You had better do the job and get away.  There is some fine scenery in Europe.”

Saying nothing to his chum about it, Blake went with the letter toward the Spaniard’s stateroom.  He was not in, but Blake put the paper on a desk, with some others, and came out hastily.

“I wonder what that meant?” he thought to himself.  “That must have been his orders to come back to Brazil and make the pictures.  But if he goes at it that way—­just to do the job and get away, he won’t have much success.  And to think of going to make films of European scenery when he isn’t really capable of it.”

“Well, some of these foreigners think they know it all when they have only a smattering of it,” mused Blake.  “Though Alcando isn’t as bad that way as lots of others.  Well, we’ve done our best with him.  And how unjust all our suspicions were—­Joe’s and mine.  I wonder what he really did think he was up to, anyhow?”

The next day Blake and Joe were busy making many important views of the big dam, which held back the waters of the Chagres River, creating Gatun Lake.  The Spaniard, too, was busy with his preparations for leaving.  He was away from the boys nearly all day, coming back to the boat, which they made their headquarters, in the evening.

“Get any pictures?” asked Blake.  “If you have we’ll pack up your reel and send it to New York with ours.  Where’s the little camera and case?”

Mr. Alcando stopped short, as though struck.

“By Jove!” he cried.  “I left it out at the dam.  I was making some views there, and used up all the film.  Then I got to working on my alarm clock, and forgot all about the camera and film case.  I left them out there, and my clock, too.  I’ll go right back and get them!”