of the platform. All three sat in silence, slumped

down in their chairs and at first staring out at the landscape bathed in magical moonlight. Gradually Jack and Bob yielded to the soporific influences of their surroundings, with the car wheels beating a monotonous and sleep-inducing lullaby.

Presently the two men who had been whispering raised their voices slightly in argument. Then one ceased abruptly, cast a keen glance toward the boys, said a word or two in a low voice to his companion, and they arose and entered the car. Frank, who like his companions had been sitting with his cap pulled down over his eyes, had not been asleep, however, and as the others left the platform he shook Jack and Bob into wakefulness.

“Did you hear that?” he demanded excitedly.

His two chums rubbed their eyes, and looked puzzled.

“Hear what?” asked Jack.

“What those fellows said.”

“What fellows?” asked Bob.

“Why, those two men who were out here,” Frank said impatiently. “I believe you were actually asleep.”

“Guess I was,” said Bob, yawning. “But what was it they said? And were they talking to you?”

“They were whispering to each other,” said Frank. “I didn’t mean to listen. But they raised their voices,

and I overheard. Then one of them looked our way—to see if we heard, I suppose—and they got up and left.”

“Well, what was it?” demanded Jack.

“Shh,” said Frank, nervously. “The door’s open and that man—the one that got suspicious of us—is staring out at us. Listen,” he whispered, “I’m going in to talk to Uncle George. You fellows stretch and yawn presently and get up and go to our stateroom. Then pretty soon I’ll bring Uncle George in, and we can shut the door and I’ll tell you.”

CHAPTER II—LOOSE ENDS OF A PLOT

“Now, what is it, Frank?” asked Mr. Temple, when he and the three chums were all gathered in their staterooms with the door locked behind them. “What’s all this mystery?”

“Yes, what is it you overheard out there on the observation platform?” demanded Jack. “You certainly seem excited enough. What’s it all about?”

“Spoiled my nap,” grumbled big Bob. “It better be good or they won’t be able to find you.”

And picking up a pillow he started to belabor his chum with it. Frank laughed and warded him off.

“Take him away,” he said. “He’s a wild man. How can I talk if he smothers me?”

“Sit down, Bob,” Mr. Temple commanded his son. Bob sank back on the couch grumbling.

“Uncle George,” said Frank, assuming a serious manner and lowering his voice, “I know you are puzzled by my request for you to come back here. But I didn’t dare explain out there in the club car. Those men were sitting too close, and I believe they

were watching me. One was, at least. You see, while Jack and Bob were snoozing out on the observation platform, I was awake. And I overheard just enough of the conversation between those two men to understand there was a big plot afoot.”

“Plot?” queried Mr. Temple. “What plot? What are you talking about? Plot against whom?”

“Against the United States,” said Frank. “I tell you I couldn’t hear much. Only a few words here and there reached me. But I gathered there was a plot afoot to smuggle a large number of Chinese coolies into the country, and that these men had a hand in it.”

Mr. Temple leaned forward.

“What’s that?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” answered Frank, stoutly. “That’s what they said. I can’t repeat the exact words. There were only snatches here and there that reached me. But my mind kept following the thought between the words. Oh, you know how it is.”

Mr. Temple nodded. He had a great respect for Frank’s intelligence. Often before he had been witness to the lad’s almost uncanny ability to guess another’s thoughts.

“But just what was said, Frank?” he asked. “Anything that you could hear definitely?”

“Yes,” said Frank, “there was. There was something

about Ensenada. Isn’t that in Mexico, on the seacoast somewhere?”

“Peninsula of Lower California, Mexican territory,” said Jack. “Go on.”

“And there was something, too, about Chinese coolies and motor boats and night running and——” Frank paused for dramatic effect. He obtained it.

“And what?” demanded big Bob.

“And radio,” added Frank, triumphantly. “That was when I heard best. One of the two men was explaining something to the other, and he became excited and raised his voice. He said: ‘With Handby in the revenue force keeping us in touch, we’ll be fixed right. We’ve got the radio station at the cove completed, and can guide the coolie boats past every danger.’”

“Radio?” cried Jack. “Whew. These fellows must be well organized.”

“And a spy in the revenue forces, too,” commented Bob. “You certainly did have your ears open, Frank.”

Frank turned to the older man.

“So there you are, Uncle George,” said he. “That’s what I heard. Then, after one of them said that about the radio station and this man Handby, in the revenue forces—I’m sure the name was Handby—he suddenly realized they had raised their voices and

might have been overheard. So they left the platform. But I’m sure he was suspicious of me, although we all did seem to be snoozing. Now what had we better do?”

“This is a serious matter, boys,” said Mr. Temple. “Do you know anything about the smuggling traffic in Chinese coolies?”

“I know we have some kind of law barring them from entrance into the country,” said Jack. “But I’m hazy about it.”

Frank and Bob nodded agreement.

“Well,” said Mr. Temple, “in the days when this country of California was being settled by pioneers and immigrants, not only from the eastern part of our country but from foreign lands, too, the white people grew alarmed at the arrival of large numbers of Chinese laborers or coolies, as they are called.

“These people had utterly different standards of life. Due to the crowded conditions in their country, for China you will recall has about one-quarter of the entire population of the world, the Chinese coolie learns to exist on less food than the white man and to dress more cheaply, too.

“Accordingly the Chinaman works for less than the white laborer or the Negro, even. Consequently, the early-day Californians began to worry at the

influx of coolies, fearing they would cheapen living conditions and wages. Their legislators made such a fuss that the government at Washington made a treaty with China barring Chinese coolies from the country.”

“But we have a good many Chinamen here, Father,” big Bob protested.

“Oh, yes,” said his father, “the treaty created exempt classes. That is, Chinamen who are merchants, professional men, students or travelers are admitted.”

“How long ago was that, Uncle George?” asked Frank.

“During President Arthur’s administration,” was the reply. “The treaty was signed at Washington in 1881 and ratified at Pekin a short time later.”

“And have there been no Chinese coolies admitted since then?” asked Jack.

“Not officially,” replied Mr. Temple. “During the World War some labor battalions of Chinese coolies, under contract to do work behind the lines in France, passed through the country, but they were guarded to prevent escape.

“However, as I understand it, there has been a steady traffic along our borders in the smuggling of Chinese coolies into the country. This is especially true along the Pacific Coast, although