CHAPTER XVII. AT OLD PANAMA.
The week following the conversation recorded in the last chapter foundthe travelers located at the Hotel Grand Central, in Panama City. Colon,although the Americans have done much to clean it up and make it morepresentable than in former days, does not hold much of interest. Besides,Mr. Mainwaring's offices were at Panama, which made his presence there anecessity.
The boys had passed a busy time sight-seeing in the old city. They hadclimbed the Cathedral towers, gazing out over the glittering bay dottedwith small but beautiful islands, where the wealthy Panamans spent theheated months. They had explored nooks and corners and inspected theoldest church on the continent.
On the particular day on which this chapter opens they had planned anexpedition to Old Panama city, which lies about five miles from thepresent town. Mr. Mainwaring was busy, but Fred had obtained leave toaccompany the boys, his duties as his father's secretary not being veryonerous. They set out in high spirits along the road leading to the ruinsof the golden city sacked by Morgan and his buccaneers.
The drive was made in an aged hack, and hardly had the boys left theoutskirts of the town before they were exclaiming over the luxurianttropical vegetation and the odd sights that met their eyes on every side.Once or twice they crossed small streams, and laughed at the sight ofnative women pounding clothes on rocks at the water side with big, flatclubs.
"Heaven help the buttons!" cried Merritt. "This must be a paradise forbutton manufacturers."
"I guess they don't bother much with them, at least not the natives thatwe've passed," chuckled Fred.
"Oh, look at that bunch of bananas!" cried Tubby presently, as theypassed by a clump of green banana plants laden with fruit. "Let's hop outand get some."
But the fruit was green and uneatable. Bananas, as Tubby did not know,are picked and shipped while green, and grow yellow and ripe on thevoyage north in the holds of the fruit steamers, which are kept carefullyat a uniform temperature.
"It's odd that we've seen nothing of Jared or his friends," remarked Rob,as, after the discovery of Tubby's mistake, they drove on again. "Hasyour dad notified the police?"
"Yes, indeed," rejoined Fred Mainwaring, "but nothing has come of it asyet. Of course, a careful lookout is being kept. Say, fellows," heexclaimed in a cautious tone, "do you know I believe that some plot is onfoot to injure the great Gatun Dam and delay the opening of the canal? Atleast, I'm pretty sure, from things I've heard dad say, that such is thecase."
"And you think, or rather he thinks, that Jared is mixed up in it?" askedTubby breathlessly.
"That's what. At least he is mixed up in it to this extent, that he issupplying the plotters with plans of the dam and so on in order that theycan strike their blow at the weakest part of it."
"Gee whiz! I'd like to get my hands on that Jared just once," exclaimedMerritt angrily. "What a skunk he is."
"It's a pity we ever let him get away from Hampton," muttered Merritt."Of course, we found out that he and the man with him bought tickets forNew York, but that was only a blind clew at best."
"Well, we don't actually know that he is on the Zone at all," struck inRob; "although all the steamship offices were quizzed, we couldn't findout that anybody answering Jared's description had taken passage for theIsthmus."
"So far as that is concerned," remarked Fred, "dad says that that provesnothing. He might have shipped from San Francisco or New Orleans, or evenfrom some Canadian port for some other destination, and then worked hisway up here on a sailing vessel or coasting steamer."
"And that's just about what he would have done," cried Rob. "BothAlverado and Estrada have plenty of sympathizers in Bogota who would helpthem in any plot against Uncle Sam. But, after all, the whole thing maybe a false alarm."
"You wouldn't think so if you could have heard what dad said at thatmeeting of the Canal heads the other day," rejoined Fred. "Of course Ican't tell you what took place, although I was present in my capacity assecretary; but from what I heard a strict watch is to be kept and theguards doubled."
"If Estrada and Alverado know the country well, it's quite likely thatthey aren't in the city at all," struck in Merritt. "The country outsidethe actual Canal Zone is a trackless jungle. They may be hiding up inthere some place."
"That's quite likely, too," rejoined Fred. "I heard dad saying somethingabout that the other day. By the way, we are going to start up theChagres day after to-morrow; won't that be bully? That's my idea ofsport,--following up a tropic river looking for a tributary."
"What's your dad going to do with the tributary when he finds it?" askedthe practical Tubby.
"That hasn't been settled yet," was the rejoinder. "Of course, if itproves to be the branch that feeds the Chagres and causes all the troublein flood time, it will be dammed or something so as to make it harmless."
"Say, don't talk so loud," whispered Rob in a cautious tone, for the boysfrom their first low tones had gradually drifted into louder talk, "thatdriver is listening to every word we're saying."
"Just like an inquisitive nigger," growled Fred resentfully.
"He's not a nigger," declared Rob; "he looks to me more like aLatin-American of some sort. He may be a fellow countryman of thisEstrada. In that case, I hope he didn't overhear anything."
"Well, you were talking as loud as any of us," declared Tubby.
"Yes, that's so. I kind of wish I hadn't."
"Look!" cried Merritt suddenly.
He had good reason to exclaim. Ahead of them, rising majestically abovethe brilliant-hued tropical greenery, was a vast gray tower, square andmassive, and pierced with square windows. At its summit it was overgrownwith mosses, lichens and many-hued flowers of gorgeous coloring. But forthis, it might have seemed anything but a ruin.
"The ruined tower of the old cathedral church of St. Augustin!" criedRob.
"And that's all that remains of the city from which Morgan took so muchplunder that it required seventy-five mules and six hundred prisoners topack it across the Isthmus to Porto Bello," chimed in Merritt, who, itwill be seen from this remark, had been reading up on Panama.
Leaving the rig behind them, the four lads made their way to the foot ofthe tower. They elected to push their way through a tangle of brushinstead of following the regular footpath. As Tubby said, it seemed morelike coming to a ruin than by strolling up to it on a beaten track. Theirtough khaki uniforms resisted the thorns and brambles valiantly, and theyarrived at the foot of the massive old tower out of breath but undamaged,except for sundry scratches on their hands.
They entered the old tower through a tumble-down doorway. The walls, theynoticed as they passed through, were three feet or more thick, whichperhaps accounted for the sturdy piles standing so long after the rest ofthe city had vanished. Inside was a crumbled stairway of stone up whichthe four Scouts were soon scrambling. They clambered to the very top andthen Rob and Fred drew from their pockets two pennants. One bore the"totem" of the Eagles; the other was emblazoned with the Patrol emblem ofthe Black Wolves.
"I thought of this just before we left," said Rob, as he drew out theEagle flag; "I guess we're the first Boy Scouts on the Isthmus and sowe'll be the first to unfurl our totems above old Panama."
"But how are you going to make the flag fast?" asked Tubby.
"See that prickly branch growing right out from the edge of the tower? Iguess I'll make mine fast to that," said Rob, "it'll be as good as a flagpole."
"Look out you don't slip," warned Merritt, as Rob made his way overroughly piled stones that had crumbled from the parapet and gained theedge of the tower. At that point a staff-like thorn bush raised one barearm aloft. As Rob had said, it did indeed make a regular flag pole.
Balancing himself carefully, the leader of the Eagle Patrol reached outand peered over the edge.
"Wow, fellows, but it looks a long way to the ground!" he exclaimed. "IfI ever fell, I'd land with a bump all right."
Claspin
g the flag in one hand, he leaned out and laid hold of the uprightbranch. There was a sudden cracking sound. The horrified Scouts, who werewatching Rob, saw him make a desperate grab at the wall to recoverhimself as the branch snapped.
But Rob's effort came too late.
"He's gone!" yelled Tubby, turning as white as a ghost as Rob, without asound, plunged over the parapet and out of sight.
His chums turned sick and faint. They dared not go to the edge to gazeupon what they knew must lie at the foot of the tower. They simply stoodlike figures carved out of wood waiting for the sound of Rob's crashingfall.
The Boy Scouts at the Panama Canal Page 17