Hearing which Bates had a shrewd suspicion that the president had suggested some particularly interesting thing to photograph in some part of South America; but, although he was a past master in the art of extracting information from unwilling lips, his efforts failed to draw out the Camera Chap further along this line. It was the president’s closing remark to Hawley which had compelled the latter to adopt this sphinx-like attitude. “I will not pledge you to secrecy,” the chief executive had said. “I will merely urge you to be discreet, Mr. Hawley. I think I am able to estimate a man at first sight, and if I did not feel that you could be relied upon I would not have asked you to undertake this mission. You realize, of course, that in addition to the risk you will be running, a human life may depend upon your discretion.” CHAPTER III. PAXTON’S WARNING. Inasmuch as the president had not pledged him to secrecy, the Camera Chap decided to take one person into his confidence regarding his visit to the White House. He knew that Tom Paxton, managing editor of the _Sentinel_, could be trusted, and there were reasons why Hawley felt that it was necessary to have him know the purpose of the undertaking on which he was about to embark. So he returned to New York that night, and arrived at the _Sentinel_ office just as Paxton was closing down his desk with the intention of going home. “Back so soon!” The boyish-looking managing editor greeted him, grinning. “I supposed it would take you at least a couple of weeks to tell the president all you know about how to run the ship of state. Seriously speaking, though, old man, I’m glad you’ve returned. I’ve got a little job for you up in Canada that needs your immediate attention. It----” “I’m sorry, Tom,” the Camera Chap interrupted, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to hand that assignment to somebody else. I can’t touch it. I’ve got to have a couple of months’ leave of absence--to begin at once.” Paxton looked his astonishment. “What are you going to do with it?” “I am going to South America,” Hawley announced. “To Baracoa, to be precise. I suppose you recall, Tom, the sensational disappearance of President Felix, a couple of years ago?” “Of course,” Paxton replied. He had a phenomenal memory for contemporaneous history. It was the boast of the _Sentinel_ staff that he could give, offhand, facts and figures of any event of importance in any part of the world within the past ten years. “Francisco Felix,” he went on, as though reading from a book, “the poor Baracoa laborer who became president. They called him ‘the South American Abraham Lincoln.’ He was the idol of the people--the most beloved and respected executive Baracoa has ever had--until he proved himself to be a crook by absconding with the contents of the national treasury.”