work, and it may not. If it does, I think we'll have some astonishing results."
"I think we will, Tom. Can I do anything to help you?"
"Yes, file some of the rough edges off these sheets of brass, if you will. There's an old pair of gloves to put on to protect your hands, otherwise you'll be almost sure to cut 'em, when the file slips. That brass is extra hard."
The two boys were soon working away, and were busy over the big lantern when Mr. Whitford came along. Koku was, as usual, on guard at the outer door of the shop, but he knew the custom officer, and at once admitted him.
"Well, Tom, how you coming on?" he asked.
"Pretty good. I think I've got just what I want. A powerful light for night work."
"That's good. You'll need it. They've got so they only smuggle the goods over in the night now. How soon do you think you'll be able to get on the border for Uncle Sam?"
"Why, is there any great rush?" asked Tom, as he noticed a look of annoyance pass over the agent's face.
"Yes, the smugglers have been hitting us pretty hard lately. My superiors are after me to do something, but I can't seem to do it. My men are working hard, but we can't catch the rascals.
