Uridio has accused me of having furnished arms and munitions of war to their enemies, the revolutionists. It is a political trick, but I am not, at present, able to prove my innocence.” “Did you help take part in a real revolution?” asked Ned. “If you did—say—cracky! Why didn’t you tell us?” His eyes sparkled. “No, I had no part in the revolution, either actually or in furnishing money or arms,” said his uncle. “I was simply doing business with the revolutionary party—buying and selling 22 goods and trying to make an honest living. But for some reasons of their own, the political tricksters down there are making trouble for me. 22 “It seems that the property of some United States citizens was damaged in some recent fighting, and they have demanded money satisfaction. Our government has taken up their claims, and they look to me to settle the loss.” “Why to you?” asked Frank. “Because it is falsely asserted that I financed the revolution. It is all pretty complicated, and I don’t expect you boys to understand it all. But the pith of the matter is right here. The United States citizens who have suffered losses in Uridio are trying to make me pay. To do so would take all your money and mine that is invested down in the South American republic, and we would be ruined.” “And if you fight the claim?” asked Ned. “I have fought the claim, but witnesses were suborned and I cannot prove that I was in no way responsible.” Frank whistled. “It looks serious,” he said. “It is serious!” declared his uncle. “I have been served with legal notices, and the time limit is almost up. I must either settle or go to jail.” “Jail?” cried Frank, stung by the word. 23 23 “Well, that’s what many persons would call it,” said his uncle, with a grim smile. “Really, it will be a federal prison, for it is the United States federal authorities who are acting against me. I won’t actually be locked up in a cell, I suppose, nor set to breaking stone, and I may not have to wear stripes. You see it is a sort of political business