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 smuggling rings have been discovered in operation along the Mexican and Canadian borders in the past, and only a few months ago a cargo of Chinese coolies was smuggled into New York harbor.

"The reason for wanting them, of course, is that they provide cheap labor, the cheapest, in fact. There are men and syndicates in California, operating ranches, fruit and truck farms, who will pay well to have a batch of coolie laborers delivered to them, and no questions asked. Consequently, smuggling rings come into being for the purpose of supplying this illicit demand."

"Well, what shall we do about this information, Uncle George?" said Frank. "Don't you think we ought to tell the authorities?"

"I certainly do," said Mr. Temple. "When we reach San Francisco, I shall lay this matter before the Secret Service the first thing tomorrow, and you will have to go along to tell them what you overheard."

"Meanwhile," commented Jack, "these two fellows would escape."

"Well, we can't help that," decided Mr. Temple. "We are not officers of the law, and can't arrest them. As for shadowing them, to see where they go on reaching San Francisco, for I suppose that's their destination, that is out of the question, too. In the first place, they already have a suspicion that Frank overheard them, and accordingly they would be on watch. In the second place, we all will be ready for a good night's rest when we arrive. Anyhow, I imagine that from what Frank overheard the revenue officers will get a good enough clue to enable them to run down this gang."

"You mean," questioned Frank, "that knowing this man Handby is a spy, they can watch him and learn who are his confederates?"

"Something like that," said Mr. Temple.

After that the conversation became desultory. Mr. Temple lay outstretched on the couch with cigar and newspaper. The boys wandered out again into the club car, and beyond to the observation platform. It was growing late, and they were nearing Oakland. The transcontinental railroad lines end at that city on San Francisco Bay, and the trip to the metropolis is completed by ferry--a short run of twenty minutes.

"I can sniff the salt water," said Jack. "Smell it. We must be getting close to the Bay."

All three chums grew exhilarated at the prospect of soon reaching the world-famous city, which is the Gateway to the Pacific and is unlike any other city in America, with the Latin-like gayety of its populace, its 30,000 Chinamen forming a city of their own within the larger city, and its waterfront crowded with traffic of the Orient--spicy and mysterious.

"I don't see those fellows," whispered Frank to his chums, surveying the figures in the club car behind them. "Maybe they left the train."

But at that very moment, the coolie smuggler who had suspected Frank of overhearing him was tipping the porter to learn to what hotel the boys and Mr. Temple had ordered their baggage sent.