Point," bawled Vinton, speaking through a megaphone which Dave had
handed to him. "Thought you fellows were at Key West."

"We were until this morning," came the answer. "We've been chasing
that boat. She's the _Esperanza_, a smuggler. Have you seen her
throwing anything overboard, or picking up stuff---like boxes or
small kegs?"

Then a light of understanding broke upon Vinton's mind. So that was
what the smuggler had been doing all night! Not grappling for the
cable, but stealthily picking up a contraband cargo of munitions of
war, small stores such as could be cast adrift along the coast in
some prearranged method and gathered in by those who had been
instructed to recognize the floating objects! What were they?
Water-tight kegs of dynamite, submerged, but buoyed up by thrice
their weight of corks? Boxes of rifle bullets? Or merely harmless
glass bottles containing, perhaps, written descriptions of the country
to be invaded, photographs of fortifications, details of naval or
military equipment?

The answer was not long forthcoming.

"Ain't seen her pick up anything," shouted Vinton, "but reckon that's
her lay. What's she after?"

"Dynamite."

"By thunder!" ejaculated the captain in a low tone of awe.

"Yes, that's just what they'll do, if they can," Billy commented with