"We've got nothin' but promises
since we've been here. Where's that Secret Service feller that was
goin' to set the pace for us?"
"Perhaps he's lost in the jungle," laughed Frank Shaw. "He certainly
ought to have been here three days ago. What about it, Gulf of Pechili
and the Peiho river Ned?" he added, turning to a youth who lay at his
side, almost shivering in spite of his shaggy burlap covering.
Ned Nestor yawned and threw aside his alleged protection from the
growing chill of the October day. The boys, fresh from a submarine in
which they had searched an ocean floor for important documents as well
as millions of dollars in gold, had arrived at Taku five days before
this autumn afternoon.
After concluding the mission on the submarine, Ned had been invited to
undertake a difficult errand to Peking, in the interest of the United
States Secret Service. Even after landing at Taku, he had confessed to
his chums his utter ignorance of the work he was to do.
He had been requested by the Secret Service man who had engaged him for
the duty to wait for instructions at the old house on the water front
which, in company with Frank, Jack, and Jimmie, he now occupied. The
house was old and dilapidated, seemingly having been unoccupied for
years, so the lads were really "camping out" there.
Their provisions were brought to them regularly by a Chinaman who did
not seem to understand a word of English, and, as the boys knowledge of
the Chinese tongue was exceedingly limited, no information had been
gained from him.
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