“That’s the way to do things, Tom!  Say, I’m going with you all right after those smugglers.  But where are some of those powerful stationary searchlights you speak of?”

“Oh, there are lots of them.  One was in the Eiffel Tower, during the Paris Exposition.  I didn’t see that, but I have read about it.  Another is in one of the twin lighthouses at the High-lands, on the Atlantic coast of New Jersey, just above Asbury Park.  That light is of ninety-five million candle power, and the lighthouse keeper there told me it was visible, on a clear night, as far as the New Haven, Connecticut, lighthouse, a distance of fifty miles.”

“Fifty miles!  That’s some light!” gasped Ned.

“Well, you must remember that the Highlands light is up on a very high hill, and the tower is also high, so there is quite an elevation, and then think of ninety-five million candle power—­think of it!”

“I can’t!” cried Ned.  “It gives me a head-ache.”

“Well, of course I’m not going to try to beat that,” went on Tom with a laugh, “but I am going to have a very powerful light.”  And he then related how he had accidently discovered a new way to connect the wires, so as to get, from a dynamo and a storage battery a much stronger, and different, current than usual.

“I’m making the searchlight now,” Tom continued, “and soon I’ll be ready to put in the lens, and the carbons.”

“And then what?”

“Then I’m going to attach it to my noiseless airship, and we’ll have a night flight.  It may work, and it may not.  If it does, I think we’ll have some astonishing results.”

“I think we will, Tom.  Can I do anything to help you?”

“Yes, file some of the rough edges off these sheets of brass, if you will.  There’s an old pair of gloves to put on to protect your hands, otherwise you’ll be almost sure to cut ’em, when the file slips.  That brass is extra hard.”

The two boys were soon working away, and were busy over the big lantern when Mr. Whitford came along.  Koku was, as usual, on guard at the outer door of the shop, but he knew the custom officer, and at once admitted him.

“Well, Tom, how you coming on?” he asked.

“Pretty good.  I think I’ve got just what I want.  A powerful light for night work.”

“That’s good.  You’ll need it.  They’ve got so they only smuggle the goods over in the night now.  How soon do you think you’ll be able to get on the border for Uncle Sam?”

“Why, is there any great rush?” asked Tom, as he noticed a look of annoyance pass over the agent’s face.

“Yes, the smugglers have been hitting us pretty hard lately.  My superiors are after me to do something, but I can’t seem to do it.  My men are working hard, but we can’t catch the rascals.”

“You see, Tom, they’ve stopped, temporarily, bringing goods over the St. Lawrence.  They’re working now in the neighborhood of Huntington, Canada, and the dividing line between the British possessions and New York State, runs along solid ground there.  It’s a wild and desolate part of country, too, and I haven’t many men up there.”