a small house, that, in times past, had been occupied by the gardener of the Foger estate. Now, that too, was closed. But, in front of it stood a wagon with a big canvass cover over it, and, as the lads came nearer, the wagon drove off quickly, and in silence. At the same time a door in the gardener's house was heard to shut softly.
"Did you see that?" cried Ned.
"Yes, and did you hear that?" asked Tom.
"They're carting stuff away from the old gardener's house," went on Ned. "Maybe it's there that the smugglers are working from! Let's hurry to see Mr. Whitford."
"Hold on!" exclaimed Tom in a whisper. "I've got one suggestion, Ned. Let's tell all we know, and what we think may be the case, but don't make any rash statements. We might be held responsible. Tell what we have seen, and let the government men do the rest."
"All right. I'm willing."
They watched the wagon as it passed on out of sight in the darkness, and then hurried on to see Mr. Whitford. To say that the custom officer was astonished at what the boys related to him, is putting it mildly. He was much excited.
"I think we're on the right trail!" he exclaimed. "You may have done a big service for Uncle Sam. Come on!"
