Bert Wilson at Panama Part 19

They were sitting on the upper veranda, as they talked, and the huge American flag that flew over the hotel, floated past them, just brushing them, as though in a caress.

"Old Glory," murmured Bert.

"The flag still waves," added Tom.

"Yes," exulted d.i.c.k, "and not at half-mast, either."

CHAPTER XVI

THE FOILING OF THE PLOT

It was noon, and Namoto sat in his library, waiting.

He was alone. All preparations had been made for instant flight. His household treasures, his heirlooms, his followers, with Togi in charge, had been sent to the yacht, that, with steam up, was lying at its moorings. The captain had reported the disposition of the prisoner, and had received his master's commendation. And now, after measureless toil and risk and scheming, Namoto prepared to taste the sweets of victory.

How near that victory was! The ceremonies were to begin at twelve. He saw in imagination the crowded wharves and banks, the shouting throngs, the stately ships, as, decked with flags, they moved slowly up the bay to the entrance of the Ca.n.a.l. As the first one entered the locks there was to be a salvo of artillery from all the vessels of the fleet. And then, his turn would come. A slight pressure on that b.u.t.ton, and there would be a crash, a roar that would echo around the world. j.a.pan would hear and rejoice; America would hear and tremble. To the one, it would be the signal of glorious triumph; to the other, the crack of doom.

There it was, now! Through the window came the boom of guns. He waited till the echoes died away.

Then, smiling, he forced the b.u.t.ton down, and listened for the thunder of the explosion.

Silence!

Wonderingly, he pressed again.

And again, the silence of the grave!

Wildly, desperately, frantically, he pushed down with all his strength.

Then, pale as ashes, he rose to his feet.

He had failed. How or why, he did not know. But, he had failed. He had gambled for great stakes and lost.

He could still escape. His yacht was waiting. He walked with a firm step over to the wall, and took down a dagger that had belonged to his ancestors.

And when Togi and the captain, alarmed at his non-appearance, burst into the room an hour later, they found him there. His home in j.a.pan, his beloved Nippon, would never see him again. His soul had gone in search of that other home, promised by his creed to those who die for their country--the home of the immortal G.o.ds.

And all through that day and many days succeeding, the great Atlantic fleet climbed over the ridges of the continent and dropped into the Pacific. And out on that vast expanse, other ships, under another flag, melted away on the horizon, like the pa.s.sing of an evil dream. The threat of invasion was over. In Tokio, they writhed in secret over the miscarriage of their plans, while in the inner circles of Washington there was unfeigned relief and rejoicing. And all America, unknowing of the peril so narrowly escaped, gloried over the successful opening to the world of the great Panama Ca.n.a.l.

For, as had been predicted, the matter was hushed up and buried in the official archives--that graveyard of so many tragedies, actual and impending. Those who knew were pledged to secrecy. Some day, perhaps, when the time was ripe, America would demand with interest the debt due from j.a.pan. But while there could be no public recognition of Bert's services, he cherished as one of his choicest treasures a personal letter from the President thanking him for his splendid achievement in behalf of the nation.

And now they were on their way home, their hearts aglow with patriotism, after the stupendous proof of their country's genius and destiny, as shown in the great Ca.n.a.l.

Wah Lee, who had been under the close watch kept on all the household, after Bert was discovered, had escaped from the yacht, in the confusion following the death of Namoto, and sought refuge with the boys. His delight at finding Bert safe and sound was only second to that of d.i.c.k and Tom. At his earnest entreaties, they had agreed to take him to "Amelika" and look after his future fortunes. He was hobn.o.bbing now with some of his yellow-skinned compatriots in the steerage, while the boys sat on the upper deck of the liner, as it drew away from Colon.

"It's a burning shame," Tom was saying, hotly. "You saved the country from disaster, and scarcely anyone knows it."

"Yes," a.s.serted d.i.c.k, emphatically, "your name ought to be a household word all over the United States."

"Easy there, fellows," said Bert. "Anyone else could have done it. I simply had the chance and took it. It was sheer luck."

"No," cried d.i.c.k. "It was sheer pluck."

He had struck the keynote of his comrade's character. And, in Bert's later career, that quality of pluck persisted. In the field of sport it was soon to be as prominent as in the dashing adventure through which he had just come triumphant. How brilliantly it came to the fore in the exciting struggle that awaited him will be seen in "_Bert Wilson's Twin-cylinder Racer._"

The End