“Velly vell, on’y me no likee losee dlishe pans, Misler Lyder. Me no velly much can usee pailes to washee dlishes in sometimes. Jus’ samee me no likee losee dlishe pan.” Tom Why’s voice accompanied by the clatter of tin pans awoke Jack next day, from a very sound sleep. The lad at first was thoroughly mystified, for it was rarely that good natured Tom ever objected to anything either he or Mr. Ryder did. It was evident, however, from the pitch of the Chinaman’s voice that he was slightly indignant. “Me can no savvy leason to put holes in him dlish pan. Him alle samee no glood then,” continued Tom. “Well, I want to put wires through the bottom of the pans and make searchlights out of them. What if your old pans are spoiled, Tom. When the next train comes up from Mexico City I’ll have a carload for you if you want them,” said Mr. Ryder. “Me no wantee clarload. Me wantee tlu dlishe pans, and me no wantee liars put thlu him bottom, too.” “All right, Tom,” laughed the engineer; “you shall have two of the finest dishpans south of the Rio Grande if you’ll only let me have these two.” “Velly vell, velly vell,” said Tom somewhat appeased at such an attractive offer. The conversation had done more than amuse Jack. It had made him thoroughly curious, for he could not understand how Mr. Ryder could make a searchlight out of a tin dishpan. He lost no time in tumbling out of bed and dressing, and five minutes after the engineer had left the house the youth was ready to follow him. Just as Jack entered the main room, however, Tom Why came in at the back door. “Hello there, Tom, did Mr. Ryder confiscate your dishpans?” asked the boy. “No him no dloo lat. Him just takee him dlish plans. Him get Tlom Why tlu flines likee clums to Melexeclo,” said Tom with a grin. Then he added, “Allee samee Jack want him dlinner now?” “Dinner?” exclaimed the boy, “why, what time is it? Well, by George, if it isn’t three o’clock. I’ve slept nearly ten hours. How long has Mr. Ryder been up?” “Him alle samee come from him room an’ slay, ‘Tom, glet my bleckflast!’ Then him look at him clock him slay, ‘Gleat Clats, him one o’clock. Tom, glet me my dlinner!’” Tom tried to imitate the engineer as he quoted Mr. Ryder’s remarks and the result made Jack laugh heartily. In a surprisingly short time the Chinaman had the table spread and a steaming hot meal before the young American. But the lad hurried every mouthful (much to Tom’s displeasure), for he was eager to reach the plant and witness the operation of converting tin dishpans into searchlights. Also, he was curious to know what had transpired since dawn that morning. When Jack reached the little machine shop on the north side of the power plant he found Mr. Ryder in the center of a pile of wire, pieces of iron pipe, electric light bulbs and all sorts of odds and ends. The engineer was busily engaged with one of Tom’s precious tin dishpans.