Jim shook his head emphatically. "You're asking for a funeral," he said bluntly. "We've got to dodge 'em, even if we play at the game for the rest of the morning. Steady there, Sam; do anything rather than let them get within close range of us. Boys, if only you could pick off that rascal who commands them we would soon make an end of the others."
But the man aboard the other boat proved to be as crafty as he was capable. True, they had obtained a clear view of him on one occasion, at least, when he had dashed for the steering gear of his vessel. But now a gaudily painted native occupied that responsible position, while the Spaniard himself lay out of sight in the engine well, but near enough to prompt him. The rim of his hat could be seen on occasion as he glanced across at Jim and his party. As for our hero, seeing that the course was blocked, and that for the moment their escape was cut off, he coolly threw his lever out of gear and slowed down his engine. Then he reversed his propellor for a while until the launch had come to a standstill.
"Two can play at this sort of game," he told himself. "We'll wait and see what that fellow proposes to do; but listen here, Tomkins, and you other fellows. Next time we attempt a rush we have to make a big impression on these natives. We'll get them end on, if we can, and then try them with volleys. We want to make every shot tell, and that hasn't been the case up to the present. A moving target isn't too easy to hit from a launch when she's heaving and rolling."
"Lummy! Look dere! By de poker, dere more of de scum. Yo see dem black sons ob guns coming right away dere? Dey likely to be very troublesome."
It taxed the perception of all to decide where this new arrival could have come from; for up till that moment the banks on either hand had seemed to be untenanted. Not a shot had come from them for quite a while, and all imagined that every native taking part in this sudden and unprovoked attack upon Jim and his comrades was embarked aboard the other launch. And here, as Tom had brought to their notice, was another boat, steering out from a bank to join her consort. It was a long, dark-coloured craft, with sides protruding some little distance out of the water, a stem erected high into the air, and bearing upon it a hideous carving, while astern there was a platform perched up on the post, and squatted upon it a painted and feathered savage, whose steering oar controlled the course of the vessel. As for her crew, a swarm of natives filled her from end to end; those in advance standing ready, spear in hand, to join in the engagement, while the remainder, situated aft, squatted on the floor and churned the water with their paddles. In a little while she had come alongside the steamer, which now rested across the centre of the stream.
"They'll talk for a bit now, I guess," growled Tomkins. "Then, like as not, they'll make a dash for it. This here business ain't going to be ended without a rare lot of bloodletting. It's that launch that's the bother. She ain't as quick as we are, but she's swift enough to turn and stop us now that she's got a position downstream. If only we had half a dozen more men aboard here! I wouldn't funk, then, running aboard her. We'd show 'em who was going ter be master."
The man's eyes were set and shining. There was a good deal of the bull dog about Tomkins, and one had only to glance at him to feel satisfied that when the crisis came the American could be trusted.
"As ef we was goin' down before a lot of black chaps same as they are!" he growled. "But you can't get away from numbers. It's the crowd that tells, and ef we lets 'em get close enough ter get their teeth fixed—gee, it'll be a case! Funerals ain't in it. I for one ain't goin' ter drop into the hands of sich rascals. I'll clear out all I can, and then——"
His eyes were bent on his rifle, while his fingers—strong, brown fingers—played with the lock.
Gurr! Jim switched the conversation in another direction by throwing his gear in. "They're moving," he said. "Best get steerage way on the boat. See here, boys, we've a heap of room upstream, and if they don't separate directly I shall run up gently. We've always enough water to turn in, and if only we can once fool the launch, and get by her, I don't care a row of chips for the other craft. I'll run her down in a winking. Ah, they're coming along! Swing her over, Sam. There's no hurry: we'll see if the movement won't make them part company."
But the steamer and the huge war canoe held together. In fact, ropes had been passed from one to the other, and the launch provided the power. But men were stationed ready to cast off the bonds between them, so that each craft could go separately. Jim's sudden movement produced nothing more than a howl, while the steamer swung gently over towards him.
"That'll suit me as well as anything," he cried. "Let 'em hold together. I'll tempt them across towards this bank, then double and be away before they can cut the canoe adrift. How's that?"
The enemy answered the question. For, of a sudden, the ropes were cast off, the canoe lay to in the centre of the stream, while the launch steamed to intercept the other. It was a crafty move on the part of the rascal who commanded the natives; for now he could rush at Jim. If he failed to come to grips with him, and the latter attempted to slip downstream, there was a formidable obstacle which was by no means to be sneered at because she had no motor aboard. There were lusty arms to ply the paddles, and when the backs of the natives were bent to the work they could make their craft slip through the water at a pace which had to be witnessed to be believed.
"Round we go, upstream for the moment," called Jim to the negro at the wheel. "Easy does it: I'm only letting my motor out a little. We'll make things hum before we have finished. She's coming along too. Well, we'll make a race of it to the far side of the river."
All the time he was attempting to get the enemy so near one bank that, in the race across to the other, the launch propelled by an internal-combustion motor, which had already proved herself far the speedier, would outstrip the other by so much that it would be safe to head downstream and sweep past her without risking those formidable spears. But always there was the crafty ruffian aboard the steamer to be reckoned with. He turned as Jim's craft ran direct across to the far bank, and followed swiftly. Then, as the motor launch approached close to the far bank, the rascal coolly stopped his engine. When Sam swung his boat round again the enemy had actually gained. A direct run upstream would almost allow him to meet the motor launch.
"Gee, he's got us there!" cried Jim, disappointment in his voice. "I thought we were going to do the trick nicely. But wait a little: we'll be more successful on the second occasion. Run her slick across, Sam," he called. "I'm going to try and trick him."
There is little doubt that had the enemy desired it he could almost have arrested their progress on this occasion, or forced Jim and his party to change their course. But the commander of the steamer had his own ideas as to how to accomplish his purpose. Ching simpered when he discovered the truth of the matter, but had the good sense to mention his fears to our hero.
"Oh, him one velly clever person!" he giggled. "Yo see what him up to, Mass Jim. All de time him run across alongside ob us him slippey nearer and nearer. Presently him so close dat de black man able to dig dere spears in."
Jim shivered in spite of the heat, for the sun was now streaming down upon the contestants. Then he looked closely at the enemy, and realized that Ching had given him valuable information. For though the steamer was cutting across the river on an apparently parallel course to his own, yet all the while her steersman was jerking his helm over, bringing her by degrees closer to Jim and his party. It was a difficulty which needed to be faced promptly, and Jim's lips were hard set together as he made his plans to meet it. Very gradually he slowed down his motor, keeping a keen eye all the while upon the stern of the steamer, where white foam showed how her propeller was working.
"I don't know that his game won't suit me very well after all," he said to himself. "So long as he actually doesn't come within spear range of us we are all right, and my aim all the while is to get him dead on a line with us. Once there he can't catch us by suddenly swerving off from his course, as was nearly the case this last time. Sam, boy," he called out, "when I shout, bring her clear round and face her back on her tracks right away for the other side. Tomkins, you can get your men ready for a little bit of quick business."
For the past five minutes not a shot had left the rifles of his comrades, though an occasional ball came from the deck of the steamer. It was remarkable that the rascal there made no attempt to use his revolver; but perhaps he had run out of ammunition, and in any case the management of the craft occupied all his attention. As to the men under Jim's command, all wore a grim determined expression. Even Ching seemed to take some definite interest in the adventure, and, though one could not be quite sure of the matter, those slanting, almond eyes bore just the merest trace of anxiety. Otherwise, there was tense excitement on board, for by now each man had realized the nature of the manœuvre about to be attempted, and the narrow margin which must necessarily lie between themselves and safety. It was Tomkins who put in an encouraging word.
"Jest you get in at it, pard," he said, moistening the palms of his hands preparatory to gripping his rifle. "You ain't got no cause to fear that we won't fight. When the ruction comes you can count on us, every blessed mother's son of us; and, see here, siree, ef you don't happen to bring off this trick, and there's a chance of them chaps driving us up into a corner, jest round her and go baldheaded for 'em. I'm getting sick of this here runnin'."
His two comrades nodded curtly to show that this statement met with their full approval, while Tom, the noble fellow, who always seemed to carry his young master's interests uppermost in his mind, stepped across to the rear edge of the cab and leaned over towards the motor.
"We ain't gwine to knuckle down to dem black niggers," he said in a voice which was meant to be a confidential whisper, but which as an actual fact was a deep-chested roar that wellnigh drowned the noise of the engine. "Yo ain't got no cause to fear, 'cos this here boy and all de odders wants to get back right along home again. We ain't a-goin' to let scum like this stan' in de way. Nebber. We's gwine to do as we wants. Sam, jest see that you're nippy."
Tom gave his master one of his most expansive smiles; then, as if to relieve his overwrought feelings, he swung round and glowered upon the harmless but extremely energetic Sam. Indeed, if the fortunes of the day were due to some extent to those who had wielded rifles, they were none the less the work of Jim and Sam and Ching between them, while at this very critical moment they may rightly be said to have rested in the hands of our hero and the little negro only.
Jim glanced swiftly across at the steamer. By now she was almost abreast of them, and if only he had but known it her commander was on the point of bringing his scheme to a termination by a rapid movement. He imagined that the slowing down of the launch was due again to further trouble of her motor. It was distinctly an opportunity to be snatched at, and, with a promptness which did him credit, he caused his steersman to swing his helm over. In an instant the steamer had changed her course and was heading for the broadside of the other vessel.
"Now," shouted Jim excitedly. "Right round with her. Let her rip. We've got 'em nicely."
It is one of the advantages of a gasolene motor, that the engine is capable of instant acceleration. A second before it had been purring gently, whilst the propeller was barely turning; but now the machinery gave out a sudden roar, while every plank and strut aboard shivered and vibrated. Under her keel the blades of her propeller churned the stream into milky foam, while the craft itself gathered way promptly. Once more she rolled heavily as Sam swung his wheel. Then she came round on her former course as if she were a living thing that understood, and was in full sympathy with the work expected of her. She bounded forward, raising her bows clear of the water, and by the time she had reached midstream had gained five lengths on the steamer.
"Edge her down, Sam; edge her down," urged Jim, giving hasty directions to his steersman. "Be ready to bring her over. That will be the time for you, Tomkins, and the others with the rifles."
It hardly needs the telling that the din from those aboard the steamer was now bewildering and deafening. But a few short seconds before the game had seemed entirely in their hands; it looked as though they would be aboard the other craft in a twinkling. Now they were hopelessly left behind; every instant made their failure more certain. Puffs of smoke burst from the crowded decks, while the huge bullets discharged from the gas barrels owned by the natives splashed all round Jim and his friends. Then there was a roar of anger as the launch turned once more on her heel, exposing her bottom boards right down to the keel as she rolled to the movement. A cloud of useless spears filled the air, while right aft of the steamer a figure sprang on to the stern deck waving both arms and shouting furiously. Tomkins's eye fell upon the man, and he gripped hard to the rail of the vessel to steady himself whilst she was rolling. Then down came his rifle, the weapon cracked forth a bullet, and the figure beyond collapsed across the engine and was hidden from view in the depth of the well which housed it. There were others amongst the natives who met with their deserts about the same moment; while, as if to put the question of the steamer's further utility entirely beyond discussion, there came suddenly from the neighbourhood of her funnel a thick column of hissing steam which rose in clouds over the river.
"I guess I'd had to shoot him," declared Tomkins grimly; "and well he deserved it. Say, sir, you needn't think no more of that steamer, for she's put clean out of the running. Reckon a bullet found her boiler and plugged a hole clean through it."
Whatever the cause of that cloud of escaping steam the effect was to bring the launch to a standstill. Indeed the position of affairs seemed to have become suddenly reversed. A little while before it had been Jim's motor which washors de combat. He and his friends were stranded and helpless on the water. Now the situation was pleasantly reversed. As Tomkins had said, the steamer was out of the running.
"Dead straight ahead for them," called Jim, his eye fixed upon the huge war canoe hovering farther down the stream. "If they swerve, swing over towards them, and, when within a couple or more lengths, cut off in the other direction. Don't forget to keep them a spear throw from us."
"And meanwhile pepper 'em with the rifles, eh?" asked Tomkins, grinning over his shoulder, and wearing now a very different expression to the grim, determined look he had shown but a short while before. "Pepper 'em nicely, eh, so as to give 'em a taste of what's coming?"
But Jim shook his head decidedly. "There's been enough bloodlettin' already," he said, using the very words which the policeman had employed already. "We've done well with these other fellows, and have shot the two rascals for whom we came in this direction. These ignorant natives don't know any better. Guess we'll give 'em a chance."
A flush of vexation rose to Tomkins's face as he heard his suggestion scouted. He turned with shining eyes upon our hero, and doubtless, had the incident happened some few hours before, would have blurted out a protest. But Jim's manly form, his stern, set face, and his coolness disarmed the policeman and smoothed down his ruffled temper. He recollected that it was to our hero's guidance that the party, so far, owed in great measure its security. The young fellow had done right well, as his worst enemy must needs admit. Then why should he, Tomkins, step in to disturb him? True, Jim was not his lawful commander; but then he himself had placed the lad in that position of responsibility, while a sense of discipline urged him to support one who filled the post of officer.
"Dash it all, man," he growled, "play the game! Don't he deserve it?"
"Right, sir," he said pleasantly, turning to Jim. "You've shown us a cool head so far, and, gee! if I don't think you'll pull us through this business. Not a trigger will we draw on those darkies till you give the word, or till there's actual reason to teach them a lesson. Now, sonny, you ain't got no need to glare at me as if I'd stolen yer last dollar. I ain't done nothing to hurt your master."
It was Tom to whom he addressed himself on this last occasion, for the watchful negro had overheard the words which had passed between Jim and the policeman. Incensed at Tomkins's seeming disloyalty, and always eager to protect our hero, Tom was on the verge of indignation. His big, broad face, which had lost its happy smile since the beginning of the action, now wore an expression akin to anger. His sharp, white teeth were gritted together, while he leaned toward the policeman as if he would do him an injury. But in an instant his manner changed. Tom could not be resentful for more than a moment; besides, there were other pressing matters to engage his attention.
"Yo hab a care, yo policeman," he cried; "me smash dem niggers easy. If me commence on yo, knock de stuffing out ob yo altogether, make yo terrible ill and shaky. Savvy dat? Den put dem in yo pipe and smoke dem."
But Tomkins had already turned away from him with a grin and a shrug of his shoulders, while Jim silenced the negro peremptorily.
"Get a grip of that pole," he cried, nodding to the one that Tom had used on the previous evening, "just in case they happen to come within close distance of us. I hope they won't. We ought to run slick past them."
And that, in fact, seemed to be the most likely termination of the matter, though it was a little disconcerting to notice that the huge war canoe still lay stationary in the very centre of the river. So far it had not been necessary for Sam to swerve the launch in the slightest, and now, as before, she was running head on towards the enemy. In a minute it would be necessary to cut away to one side or the other, the choice resting entirely with Sam, the negro. Deliberately he swung his wheel to the right, and shot the launch obliquely across the river. At the very same instant the man squatting upon the high platform right aft of the canoe shouted, and some fifty paddles plunged into the water. With incredible speed the native craft made off, and shot forward at an angle which would bring her alongside the launch. In spite of the latter's speed it became evident, with startling suddenness, that she could not escape contact with the enemy. It was Sam who decided the course of Jim's party. He bent over his steering wheel till he seemed to hug it. Then he twisted it to the left abruptly.
"Down under with you all!" shouted Jim. "We shall strike her. Tom, get your pole ready." But the negro's services were not required, for the collision and all that followed was ended with startling swiftness. The bows of the launch swung round till they pointed but a few feet ahead of the canoe. Then they came round a little more, while a terrible shout burst from the enemy. There was a gentle shock as the launch struck the stem post of the huge native craft, spears rattled upon her deck, and then they were passed. As for the canoe, the collision had driven her to one side just as she had seemed on the point of running along in close company with the launch. She was now some twenty yards in rear, her crew paddling hopelessly. That she had very nearly run aboard Jim's boat there could be no doubt, for one of the warriors had actually managed to leap forward and reach her. Tom discovered him clinging to the rail amidships, his mouth wide open to hold his spears.
"Oh, dat yo, my frien'!" he laughed, peering over at him. "You hab a free ride all fo' noding. But goodbye now. Sorry to lose yo: we a bit in a hurry."
The burly fellow pushed his pole beneath the man, and by sheer strength lifted him clear out of the water. He held him there for a little while, casting choice expressions at him, then he cast him back into the water, as if the native were some species of fish for which Tom had no use whatever.
"Lucky him swim so well," he laughed. "Tom almost sorry he not kill um. Not so sure dat blackguard not de one who shoot and hit him hand."
"Nonsense!" cried Jim. "Nothing of the sort. That man was aboard the steamer. Stand out of the way, Tom! I think we may take it easily."
There was, in fact, no longer any reason for haste; therefore Jim slowed down his motor. They cruised slowly across the lagoon, and lay close to its exit. There, with the help of the kit of tools carried aboard, and a strip of tinned iron cut from a biscuit box, our hero effected a temporary repair to the water jacket, soldering the patch into position. It was a triumphant crew which returned to Colon, for the Major was himself again, and their duty was accomplished.
"I never did meet such a fellow as you, Jim Partington," cried Phineas Barton, when our hero and his comrades turned up at the house situated above the huge dam of Gatun, in progress of building. "No, never before. You get introduced to me after a likely enough adventure. Perhaps I ought to say that I was introduced to you; reckon anyway our meeting was as strange as one might imagine, and there was no end of excitement in it. You behaved like a plucky young beggar."
Jim went very red at once. "I thought we weren't to hear anything more about that," he said bluntly. "That was our agreement."
But Phineas only grinned at him. "Agreement or no agreement," he said seriously, "there are times when a chap has just got to sit down and listen. Reckon that time is here now, and you're the chap. I was saying, when you interrupted me—ahem!—that you were a beggar for adventures. You come to my house, do one day's solid work, and then get gallivanting off with an exploration party. Of course, being fired at in the meanwhile and the ruction you had with those rascals down at the hut above Colon is nothing—just a kind of act between supper and breakfast, as it were. Now there's this launch expedition, and there's Tomkins—a surly sort of fellow, who don't often open his mouth, and then not always to be pleasant; there's this policeman, with the Major, his commanding officer, singing your praises down at the club, till the boys are jest jumping to get a grip at you. Time supper's ended to-night you've got to come right along there with me; and, jest remember this, they ain't got an agreement with you."
Jim was horrified at the suggestion. Though he was American born, and was blessed with an American's average allowance of assurance, the lad was undoubtedly modest when his own actions were in question. He would have given anything to escape from what promised to be an ordeal, and made numerous excuses. But Phineas bore him off in spite of all of them, and Tom and Sam and Ching fell in as a bodyguard in rear, in case his protégé should attempt to escape.
"It's not what you owe to yourself," he said, with a laugh, "but what you owe to the boys. Remember that they're working here all day, with little chance of getting news but what comes to them at the club. We're steadygoing stagers here on the canal, and it isn't often that a chap like you turns up. When he does he's got to stand the ruction, and guess that's what you've got to do. Don't I jest wish you and I could change places."
Jim agreed with him heartily, though, as a matter of fact, when he came to face what in his imagination would be an ordeal, he discovered it to be but the pleasantest ceremony. Quiet, earnest men crowded round him to shake his hand; then he was bidden to sit at a table in the centre of his new comrades.
"Yer see," said Harry, who regarded our hero with an envious expression, "that 'ere Tomkins ain't the man to talk, while the Major's much too busy; besides, guess his head's much too sore for chatting. You jest get right in at it, and give us the yarn from start to finish."
Jim did as he was bidden, describing every incident, and drawing a growl from many of his audience when he came to that part of his narrative which dealt with the injury to the engine; for it can well be imagined that amongst those white employees on the huge canal a goodly number were, if not actually engineers by profession, certainly most strongly imbued with a leaning towards it. All may have been said to have had mechanical knowledge, since there were few who did not run a steam navvy, a rock drill, a rail-laying plant, or a lifting derrick of some description.
"Gee whiz! That's hot!" exclaimed one of them, interrupting for a moment. "One of those muzzle-loading gas barrels chucked a shot right at your motor, did it? And knocked a hole clean through the water jacket? My, that must have been awkward! Reckon the water pumped up most everywhere, and swamped the ignition. Tell us jest how yer fixed it."
Jim described exactly what had happened, how he had plugged the water entrance to the pump of his motor, and drained the jackets dry. "It was a near thing," he admitted, with a grin. "I thought I should never get going again; but we mopped the water from the magneto, and reckon we fixed it just in time. Of course I gave her plenty of oil, and all the time I was scared that the motor would become overheated."
"Excuse me, sir," said one of the audience, suddenly pressing forward and disclosing himself as one of the officials. "All the time you were fixing this motor, shots were flying, and I understand that there was a boatload of dark-skinned gentlemen thirsting for the lives of yourself and your comrades, and not forgetting to let you know it either. Reckon many a man would have been too upset to think of extra lubrication, though everyone here who knows a gasolene motor realizes well enough that it was extra lubrication, and that alone, which saved your engine from overheating."
He looked round at the assembled audience enquiringly, and was rewarded with many a sharp nod of approval.
"You've got it, siree," cried one of them. "You've jest put your finger on the very point I was about to ask."
"It's as clear as daylight," went on the official, "our young friend here saved the whole party by keeping his head well screwed down and his wits about him. If that motor had overheated, as any self-respecting engine might well have been expected to do under the circumstances, you were all goners. All dead, sir. Wiped out clean by those natives."
There came a grunt of acquiescence from the audience, while Jim went red to the roots of his hair.
"You don't happen to have got fixed on a special job yet awhile?" asked the official pointedly.
"I'm to take a steam digger away up by Culebra."
"And you wouldn't change, supposing I was to come forward with an offer? See here," said the official eagerly, "I'm from the machine shops 'way over at Gorgona. You've heard of them?"
Everyone in the canal zone had heard of these immense shops to which the official alluded, for there a great amount of engineering work was undertaken. In such a colossal task as this building of a canal between Panama and Colon, between the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, the reader will readily comprehend that an enormous number of locomotives, steam diggers, and machinery of every sort and description was in constant operation, and that, like machinery all the world over, such implements break down on occasion and require repair. The works at Gorgona coped with all such matters, and was staffed by such keen engineers that they even did not stop at repairs of whatever description. There, in those sheds, engines were constructed, from the smallest bolt down to the heaviest crank shaft, according to the designs produced at the drawing offices at Gorgona. The workers on the canal had long since discovered that special machines were often required to deal with the special jobs they had in progress. And clever heads at Gorgona invented means to satisfy them. Witness the ingenious rail layer, without which the task of delving would have been much delayed; witness that other clever arrangement which did in seven minutes the work of a hundred men, and swept the dirt clear from a whole line of earth wagons.
"You've heard of those shops 'way over at Gorgona?" asked the official again.
"I have," Jim admitted. "I'm longing to see them."
"Then you shall, I promise. But, see here, about this job. A good man deserves a proper place for his knowledge and his energies; down there, at Gorgona, we've just turned out a gasolene rock driller that'll knock the other steam-driven concerns into the shade. I'm looking for a man to run it, one used to gasolene motors. Say, if I apply for you, sir, will you take the work?"
Jim looked round the circle before he replied, and almost smiled at the expression he caught on Harry's face. The genial fellow who had given him a day's instruction in the working of a hundred-ton steam digger did not look best pleased; but that was to be put down to his own keenness, to the keenness which he inherited in common with every white man labouring on the canal. For in Harry's eyes it was the machine which he himself ran which was helping the progress of the canal; it was the enormous mouthfuls of dirt which his digger tore from the soil that placed the undertaking nearer completion. And every man he coached in the task was something approaching a traitor if he abandoned that particular machine for another. Then, of a sudden, his face took on another expression.
"You ain't got no cause to think of me, young 'un," he said pleasantly. "I don't deny as I'd have liked to see you running a digger, 'cos it's me as taught you; but, then, I don't forget that you've shown that you know one of these gasolene motors right away from the piston to the crank shaft. You close with the offer if you like it; there'll be more dollars in it, I reckon."
He addressed the last remark to the official, who nodded acquiescence.
"Special work, special pay," he replied curtly. "We want a man, and we must be prepared to spend dollars on him. I offer a dollar more than digger rates. What's the answer?"
"Of course he takes it!" burst in Phineas eagerly. "It ain't in human nature to refuse advancement, and of course Jim'll take that motor. Do you want him yet awhile?"
"In a couple of weeks perhaps. We're not quite ready."
"Then I accept, with many thanks," said Jim, his heart beating fast with pleasure at such rapid progress; for here was advancement, here was pay which made his own future and that of Sadie all the brighter. "In two weeks' time; and in the meanwhile perhaps you'll allow me to see the machine and get an idea of its construction."
"You can come along whenever you like and handle the concern. It'll knock spots out of those steam drills," declared the official.
"And now, as this here business interview seems to have come to an end, supposing we get to with a song," cried one of the audience. "Didn't I hear tell as you could play a banjo, Jim, and sing a tune when you was axed?"
"I've done so before; I can try," answered our hero, breathing more freely now that his ordeal was over. "I'll buy a banjo as soon as I can; then I'll let you see what I can do."
"You'll get right away in at it, siree," said the man severely, grinning at his comrades. "See here, there's a banjo I brought along with me from the States. Not that I can tune on it; I allow as I've tried, but, gee! the performance was enough to make a cat laugh. The boys passed a resolution axing me to give over at once, and fer that reason the instrument's been lying idle in my quarters this three months past. Get in at it, siree."
He produced a stained and somewhat battered instrument from behind his chair and passed it to Jim. Now Jim was by no means a poor instrumentalist, and in addition was one of those fortunate individuals gifted with a fair voice. Thousands of men have found before this that the power to sing and entertain their fellows is the key to popularity, and Jim was no exception. It had been his fortune to live as a rule amongst small communities, where any form of entertainment was appreciated, and none more than a song. It followed, therefore, that here again, as in the case of the gasolene motor, he had had experience, and seeing that his audience were determined to hear him, he settled down to the work without more ado. A fine young fellow he looked, too, seated in their midst, the banjo in correct position as he leant over it, touching the strings and tightening them till his keen ear was satisfied. Burnt a deep brown by the hot sun of those parts, his hair somewhat dishevelled, and his clothing by no means improved by the adventures through which he had passed, Jim had a rugged, healthy, out-of-doors appearance which was most attractive. That he was by no means a weakling was at once apparent, for he filled his clothing well, and presented a fine pair of broad shoulders. When he lifted his face and glanced round at his audience, smiling in his own serene, inimitable manner, there was not one who did not know in his heart that our hero was a stanch and jolly individual, free from side and that stupid conceit which spoils some young men of his age, but full of go and energy as became an American; ready when his work was done, and only then, to enjoy himself as much as possible and help to give enjoyment to others.
"See here," laughed Jim, looking round the circle of men, all of whom had their eyes on him, for there was no little curiosity to see how he would accomplish the task; "if I break down, you must forgive me, for, gee! it's like being in a cage with a whole crowd watching."
Down went the head over the banjo again, while his fingers played on the strings; and at once, by the notes which issued, it became apparent that here was no novice. Jim struck up a gay tune, and in a little while had given his audience the first verse of a jaunty song, to which there was an equally jaunty chorus; so that before the evening had passed the rafters above were ringing to the sound made by a hundred or more lusty voices.
"Fine, jest fine!" cried one of the men.
"Gee! If he don't take it!" shouted Harry.
"I'm shaking hands with myself," declared the official who had offered him a post at Gorgona. "You men down here needn't think that you're going to have young Partington all to yourselves. A fortnight to-day he'll be a Gorgona man, when we'll send you invitations to our concerts."
There was a shout at that, a shout denoting some displeasure. Phineas Barton rose from his chair, his fractured arm swathed and bandaged and slung before him, and regarded the official triumphantly. "Not a bit of it, siree," he said. "Jim's my lodger. Don't matter whether he works along here at Gatun or way over there at Culebra or Gorgona, he jest comes home every night of the week. The Commission's jest got to pass him a free ticket, and ef he's in a concert, why, guess it'll be here, and the folks at Gorgona will be the ones to be invited."
There was a roar of laughter at the sally, and Jim was called upon for a second song. Modestly enough he gave it too; for such open praise as had been bestowed upon him is not always good for a lad of his age, and might well be expected to turn the heads of many. Our hero had his failings without doubt, and we should not be recording truly if we did not allow the fact, but a swelled head was not one of the ailments he was wont to suffer from. So far his friends and acquaintances had never known Jim Partington to be too big for the boots he stood up in.
"Which is jest one of the things that made me take to him right away from the first," said Phineas, when discussing the matter that same evening with the police officer who had been in command of the launch expedition. "He ain't bumptious, Major. He's jest a lively young fellow, full of sense and grit, and I tell you, if there's one lad here in the zone who's made up his mind to make a job of the canal, it's Jim. He's fixed it that he's going to rise in the world, and if nothing unforeseen happens we shall find him well up the ladder one of these days, and making a fine living."
They called Jim over to them, where they were seated at a small table in one corner, and at once the Major gripped our hero's hand, while he acknowledged that he felt wonderfully better. His head was heavily bandaged, for the bullet which had struck him had caused a nasty gash in the scalp.
"Not that it did any great harm," laughed the Major. "They tell me that there was tremendous swelling at first, but the blood which escaped from the wound brought that down wonderfully; but I admit that at first I felt that my head was as big as a pumpkin. How's your own wound?"
Jim had forgotten all about it, though on his arrival that morning he had taken the precaution to have it dressed. But it was already partially healed, and caused him not the slightest inconvenience.
"I think I had the best of the matter altogether," he answered, "for though up there on the river I was unable to distinguish the man who began all this business by firing at me, yet both were hit, and I fancy pretty badly."
"You can count them as almost wiped out completely," agreed the Major. "But I have serious news to give you regarding the other three. During our absence Jaime de Oteros and his comrades broke out of prison and made good their escape. The scoundrels are once more free to carry on any form of rascality. Of course I have sent trackers after them; but the latest news is that they have disappeared into the bush, and pursuit there is almost hopeless. I own I'm vexed, for there is never any knowing what such men may be up to. A Spaniard with a grudge to work off is always a dangerous individual."
The information of the escape of the prisoners was indeed of the most serious moment, and Jim and his friends were yet to learn the truth of the words that the Major had spoken. For Jaime de Oteros had indeed a grudge, and with all the unreasonableness of men of his violent disposition he had already determined in his own mind that our hero Jim was the cause of all his troubles. He brushed aside the fact that one of his ruffianly comrades had most deliberately attempted murder, and that the effort made to capture the offender was but a natural reprisal. That effort had led to the discovery of the gang and its break-up, and in Jaime's eyes our hero was the culprit. He swore as he lay in prison to take vengeance upon him, while he did not forget his animosity towards the police officials.
"I tell you," he cried fiercely, once he had contrived to break out of the prison, "I don't move away from these parts till I've killed that young pup, while as to these others, these Americans, I'll do them an injury, see if I don't. I'll wreck some of the work they're doing; break up the job they're so precious proud of."
Meanwhile Jim had many other things to think of, and very promptly forgot all about the miscreants. He sauntered back to the house with Phineas, and on the following morning boarded a motor-driven inspector's car running on the isthmian railway.
"We'll just hop along first to Gorgona," said Phineas. "And on the way we'll take a look at the valley of the Chagres River. You've got to understand that right here at Gatun, where we're building the dam, and where the river escapes between the hills which block this end of the valley, we shall have the end of the lake we're going to form. For the most part the valley is nice and broad, running pretty nigh north and south. This track we're on will be covered with water, so that gangs of men are already at work fixing the track elsewhere on higher ground. But I want to speak of this valley. It runs clear south to Obispo, where there is hilly ground dividing it from the valley of the Rio Grande, and there, at Culebra, which is on the hill, we're up against one of the biggest jobs of this undertaking. You see, it's like this: from Gatun to Obispo we follow a route running almost due south, with the Chagres River alongside us all the way; but at Obispo, which I ought to have said is just twenty-six miles from the head of Limon Bay, the Chagres River changes its course very abruptly, and if followed towards its source is found to be confined within a narrow valley through which it runs with greater speed, and in a north-easterly direction. Now, see here, to figure this matter out correctly let's stand up in this car. There's the track running way ahead of us through the Chagres valley in a direction I described as southerly, though to be correct it is south-westerly. Dead behind us is Limon Bay; right ahead is Panama. I've given you an idea of the works we're carrying out at this end—first dredging Limon Bay for 4-1/2 miles, then canal cutting for say another 4 miles. There you get three tiers of double locks, and the Gatun dam that's going to fill in the end of this valley, and give us a lake which will spread over an area of no fewer than 164 square miles, and which will fill the valley right away up to Obispo, where the Chagres River, coming from a higher elevation, will pour into it."
"And then," demanded Jim, beginning, now that he was actually in the valley, to obtain a better conception of the plan of this huge American undertaking. "I can see how you will bring your ships to the Gatun locks, and how you will float them into the lake. I take it that there will be water enough for them to steam up to Obispo. After that, you still have to reach Panama."
"Gee! I should say we had. But listen here. Taking this line, with Panama dead south-west of us, we come at Obispo to a point where the designers of the canal had two alternatives. The first was to cut up north-west, still following the Chagres valley where it has become very narrow, and so round by a devious route to Panama. That meant sharp bends in the canal, which ain't good when you've got big ships to deal with, and besides a probable increase in the cost and in the time required to complete the undertaking."
"And the second?" demanded Jim.
"The second alternative was to cut clear through the dividing ridge which runs up at Obispo some 300 feet above sea level. Following that route for 9 miles in the direction of Panama you come to the alluvial plain of the Rio Grande, and from thence to the sea in another 6 miles. Forty-one miles from shore to shore you can call it, and, with the dredging we have to do at either end, a grand total of 50 miles. But we'll leave this Culebra cutting till we reach it. Sonny, you can get right along with the car."
Jim would have been a very extraordinary mortal if he had not been vastly interested in all that he saw from his seat in the rail motor car. To begin with, it was a delightfully bright day, with a clear sky overhead and a warm sun suspended in it. Hills lay on either hand, their steep sides clothed with luxuriant verdure, while farther away was a dark background of jungle, that forbidding tropical growth with which he had now become familiar. On his right flowed the Chagres River, winding hither and thither, and receiving presently a tributary, the Rio Trinidad. Along the line there were gangs of men at work here and there laying the new tracks for the railway, while, when they had progressed on their journey, and were nearer Obispo, his keen eyes discovered other subjects for observation. There were a number of broken-down trucks beside the railway, which were almost covered by vegetation, while near at hand on the banks of the river a huge, unwieldy boat seemed to have taken root, and, like the trucks, was surrounded by tropical growth.
"Queer, ain't they?" remarked Phineas. "Guess you're wondering what they are."
"Reckon it's plant brought out here at the very beginning of this work, and scrapped because it was found to be unsatisfactory."
"Wrong," declared Phineas promptly. "Young man, those trucks were made by the Frenchmen. That boat is a dredger which was laid up before you were born, and was built by the same people."
The information caused our hero to open his eyes very wide, for he, like many another individual, had never heard of the French nation in connection with the isthmus of Panama; or if he had, had entirely forgotten the matter. But to a man like Phineas, with all his keenness in the work in which he was taking no unimportant part, it was not remarkable that French efforts on the isthmus were a matter of historical interest to him.
"A man likes to know the ins and outs of the whole affair," he observed slowly, as they trundled along on the car. "There's thousands, I should say, who don't even know why we have decided to build this canal, and thousands more who don't rightly guess what we're going to do with it when it's finished. But Columbus, when he discovered the Bay of Limon round about the year 1497, thought that he had found a short cut across to the East Indies. He didn't cotton to the fact that the isthmus stretches unbroken between the two Americas, and only came to believe that fact when his boats came to a dead end in the bay he had discovered. Cortés sought for a waterway at Mexico, while others hunted round for a channel along the River St. Lawrence, and all with the one idea of making a short passage to the East Indies.
"Then the Straits of Magellan were discovered, while some of those bold Spaniards clambered across the isthmus and set eyes upon the Pacific Ocean. You know what happened? Guess they built and launched ships at Panama, and the conquest of Peru was undertaken, and following it gold and jewels in plenty were brought by mule train from the Pacific to the Atlantic, across from Panama to Colon. So great was the traffic that even in the days of Charles V of Spain the question of an isthmian canal was mooted; for, recollect, Spain drew riches from the Indies as well as from Peru. And now we come to the nineteenth century. America badly wanted an isthmian crossing which would bring her western ports closer to those on the east, and vice versa. A railway seemed to be the only feasible method, and we tackled the job splendidly. That railway was completed in 1855, in spite of an awful climate, and guess it filled the purpose nicely. Just hereabouts came our war, North against South, and, as you can readily understand, there wasn't much chance of canal building.
"Now we come to the Frenchmen, to Ferdinand de Lesseps," said Phineas, pointing out another group of derelict trucks to our hero. "You want to bear in mind that the question of an isthmian canal was always in the air, always attracting the attention of engineering people. Well, de Lesseps had just completed the Suez Canal, connecting the east with the west, and guess he cast his eye round for new fields to conquer. He floated a company in France, and raised a large sum of money. Then he bought out the Isthmian Railway for twenty-five and a half million dollars. You see, he knew that a railway was wanted to carry his plant, and I guess that the fact of having that railway made him decide to build his canal across where we are working. But there was mismanagement. De Lesseps, like many another man, had been spoiled by success, and had lost his usual good judgment. His expenses were awful, and finally, when the money ran out, his company abandoned the undertaking. In eight years he had spent more than three times the amount for the Suez Canal, and had got through some three hundred million dollars. He and his staff left behind them the trucks you see, besides a large amount of other machinery. At this day there's many a French locomotive pulling our dirt trains right here in the Culebra cutting, while his folks set their mark on the soil. They, too, started to cut through at Culebra, and in those eight years did real honest work. But shortage of money ended their labours, and, as I've said, they've left behind these marks of their presence, with rows and rows of graves over at Ancon; for fever played fearful havoc with the workmen. Yes, it was that which gave America her warning, and set our medical folk at work to tidy up this zone and sweep it clear of mosquitoes and fever."
It was all very interesting, and Jim listened most attentively, though, to be sure, every now and then his mind was distracted for a brief instant by some new object to right or left of the line; while from the very beginning the desire to ask one question and to receive information in reply had been present.
"That tale of the French is new to me," he said, "and I hadn't the faintest idea that a canal had been previously attempted. You've said that Spain desired one by means of which to reach the East Indies and so save the long trip round by the Straits of Magellan; how does America stand when all's finished?"
The fingers of Phineas's only usable hand were clenched instantly. Was it likely that a man such as he, who had counted the cost of the undertaking, and knew something of its vastness, would not also have counted the gain?
"What do we get when all's ended?" he cried eagerly. "Guess for that you require a map by rights, though I can tell you something from memory. To begin with, take New York as our important eastern port, and San Francisco as that on the west coast. Of course I know that we have an inter-oceanic railway. But if goods in bulk were shipped, the boat would have to steam right away south, round by Cape Horn and the Straits of Magellan. The Oregon, one of our best battleships, was lying away up in the Pacific when our war with Spain began. She had to steam more than 13,000 miles to reach Key West, and guess a ship wants overhauling after such a long journey, putting aside the risks she ran of captureen route, owing to her isolation. Well now, this isthmian canal will knock the better part of 9000 miles off the route from New York to San Francisco. The English doing business with our firms in that port will have a journey less by 6000 miles, while New York will be closer to the ports of South America by a good 5000 miles. It'll be a shorter journey from Japan or Australia to New York than it is to-day to Liverpool, while there's scarcely a trip from east to west that won't be helped by this canal we're building. Just think of it, Jim! Where this trolley's running there'll be, one of these days, deep water, with bigger ships floating in it than you can dream of now. You and I will have helped to bring about that matter. When we're old we'll be able to tell the youngsters all about it; for America will know then that she owns something valuable. Her people will have had time to grasp its full significance, and guess then the question will not be, as now, 'Where is the Panama Canal? What are our folks doing?' but 'How was America's great triumph accomplished?' My! Ain't I been gassing? Why, there's Gorgona. Hollo, sonny! Pull her up."
They descended from the car promptly, and made for the huge sheds where one portion of the engineering staff undertook the upkeep of the machinery engaged along the whole line of the canal. The friendly official was waiting for them, and very soon Jim's eyes were bulging wide with delight at the sight of the motor drill he was to manage.
Never in the whole course of his short existence had Jim come upon such a busy scene as he encountered, when Phineas Barton at length contrived to drag the eager young fellow away from the engineering shops at Gorgona.
"My!" cried Phineas, simulating a snort of indignation; "I never did come across such a curious chap in all my born days. I began to think that you'd stick in the place, grow to it as the saying is. But there, I don't blame any youngster for liking a big works same as this. There's so much to see, huge lathes and planing machines running and doing their work as if they were alive and thinking things out. Steam-hammers thudding down on masses of red-hot metal, giving a blow that would crack a house and smash it to pieces, or one that would as easily fracture a nut. Then there are the furnaces and the foundry: guess all that's interesting. But you've got more to see; it's time we made way up for Culebra. Look here, boy, set her going, and mind you watch the spoil trains."
The precaution and the warning were necessary, for the double track of the Panama railway at this point was much occupied by the long trains of cars filled with earth coming from the trench that was being cut through the high ground just ahead. It was not until they actually reached the neighbourhood of Culebra, which may be said to occupy a place in the centre of the gigantic cut, that Jim gathered a full impression of the work, or the reason for so many freight cars. But it was true enough that the driver of the motor truck had to keep his wits about him to escape collision; for every three minutes a spoil train came along, dragged perhaps by a locomotive made at Gorgona, or by one imported by the French, and of Belgian manufacture. Every three minutes, on the average, a train came puffing down the incline from Culebra, and nothing was allowed to delay it. In consequence, the motor inspection car on which Phineas and his young friend were journeying was compelled at times to beat a hasty retreat, or to go ahead at full power before an advancing empty train—returning from the great dam at Gatun, where it had deposited its load—till it arrived at a point where a switch was located. There was nearly always a man there, and promptly the car was sidetracked.
"It's the only way to do the business," explained Phineas. "The getting away of those spoil trains means the success of our working. If they don't get clear, so as to be back at the earliest moment, there's going to be any number of steam diggers thrown out of work; for it's no use shovelling dirt if there aren't cars to load the stuff in. If there's a breakdown with one of the cars, guess the whole labour force is pushed on to it, so as to get the lines clear. Telephone wires run up and down the line, and a breakdown is at once reported. But we're just entering the cut, and in a little while you'll be able to see and understand everything."
To be accurate, it took our hero quite a little while to grasp the significance of all that he saw, for the Culebra cut extends through nine miles of rocky soil, and at the period of his inspection it had already bitten deep into the hilly ground which barred the onward progress of the canal at Obispo. One ought to say, in an endeavour to give facts accurately, that this mass of material forms the southern boundary of the huge Chagres valley which, when the works are completed, will be flooded with water. It bars all exit there, though by turning sharply to the left one may follow the course of the river through a narrow, ascending valley. However, the scheme of the undertaking required that there should be no sharp bends, and in consequence the host of workers were toiling to cut a gigantic trench, of great width and enormous depth, right through this hilly ground. What Jim saw was somewhat similar to the works below Gatun, at the Colon end of the canal, but vastly magnified. There were the same terraces, with tracks of rails laid, bearing an endless procession of spoil trains and numbers of steam diggers. There was the same pilot cut in the very centre, from which the terraces ascended step by step, as if they were portions of another Egyptian pyramid. But there comparisons ceased. This huge ditch extended for nine miles, and throughout its length presented an army of toilers, any number of dirt trains, and a constant succession of white steam billows, at various elevations, pointing to the places where the hundred-ton diggers were at work.
"You have to get right on the spot to see what's happening," said Phineas, looking proudly about him. "You can see for yourself now that it means everything to us to get rid of the dirt as quickly as possible, and everything to have spare trains ready to fill the place of those taking the spoil away. This concern is simply a question of dirt, and of how rapidly we can shift it. If I was the President of the Republic of the United States himself I should have to look lively all the same, and dodge about so as not to get in the way of the dirt trains. But we'll get out here and climb; I'll show you a thing or two."
He chuckled at the prospect before him, for to expatiate on the canal works to a keen young fellow, such as Jim undoubtedly was, was the height of enjoyment to the energetic official. Their car was switched on to a side track at once, and, descending from it, the two clambered up the scarped side of the trench till they were on the summit of the rocky ground. Then it was possible to obtain a bird's-eye view of the whole cut, and to appreciate its vastness. Jim noticed that the path he had clambered by shelved rather gently, while elsewhere the bank of the trench was steeply scarped, and at once drew Phineas's attention to the matter.
"You don't miss much, siree," came the answer. "We've come face up against more than one tough job 'way up here at Culebra, and the question of the slope of our banks is one. You see, this trench will be mighty deep, and if we were to cut the sides perpendicular they would soon fall in. Most of the stuff's rock, of course, but it's queer rock at that. It's soft, weathers quickly, and becomes easily friable when water has got to it. So we've had to spread the banks wide, and make the slope easy, except where the rock's harder and allows a steeper slope. Now, guess we're near about the centre of the cut. You've seen what's happening to the north. Dirt trains run down the incline, enter the tracks of the Panama Railway, and run 26 miles to the dam at Gatun. South of us the tracks fall to the plain of the Rio Grande, and the spoil trains run down and dump their stuff on either side of the line the canal will take. You've got to remember that this trench is 'way up above tide level; so at the end of the cut, at Pedro Miguel, there is to be a lock, or, rather, a double lock—one for a vessel going north and one for a ship coming south. A matter of a mile farther along there is another lock—the Milaflores lock—double, like the last, but with two tiers. It will let our ships down into the Pacific. But you've got to remember that there is a tide in that ocean, so the lift of the Milaflores lower lock will be variable. Now, lad, come and see the rock drills."
They descended into the bottom of the trench again, Phineas explaining that when it was completed there would be a bottom width of 200 feet, ample to allow the passing of two enormous ships.
"Guess it's the narrowest part of the canal," he said, "though no one would call it narrow; but it's through hard rock, which is some excuse, and then this narrowest part happens to be dead straight. North of us the cut widens at the bottom to 300 feet, while elsewhere, outside the cut, the minimum width is 500 feet. You've got to bear in mind that I'm talking of bottom widths. Recollect that the banks slope outwards fairly gently, and you can appreciate the fact that the surface width of the canal stream will make a stranger open his eyes. Ah, here's a drill! This is the sort of thing you'll be doing."
To the novice the machine to which Phineas had drawn attention was indeed somewhat curious. It looked for all the world like an overgrown motor car, constructed by an amateur engineer in his own workshop, and out of any parts he happened to have by him; for it ran on four iron wheels with flat tyres, and bore at the back the conventional boiler and smokestack. In front it carried a post, erected to some height, and stayed with two stout metal rods from the rear. The remainder of the machine consisted of the engine and driving gear which operated the drills.
"It'll get through solid rock at a pace that will make you stare," declared Phineas, "though our friend at Gorgona believes that this new model that you're to run will do even better. But you can see what happens; these drills get to work where the diggers will follow. They drill right down, 30 feet perhaps, and then get along to another site. The powder men then come along, put their shot in position, place their fuse, wire it so that a current can be sent along to the fuse, and then get along to another drill hole. At sunset, when all the men have cleared, the shots are fired, and next morning there's loose dirt enough to keep the diggers busy. Guess you'll be put to work with one of these drillers, so as to learn a bit. You can't expect to handle a machine unless you know what's required of you."
The following morning, in fact, found our hero dressed in his working clothes, assisting a man in the management of one of the rock drills. He had risen at the first streak of dawn, and after breakfasting, had clambered aboard an empty dirt train making for Culebra.
"Yer know how to fire a furnace?" asked the man who was to instruct him. "Ay, that's good; I heard tell as I wasn't to have no greenhorn. Ain't you a pal o' Harry's?"
There might have been only one Harry amidst the huge army of white employees; but Jim knew who was meant, and nodded promptly.
"And you're the chap as went off into the swamps, across a lagoon, along with the Police Major, ain't you?"
"Yes," responded our hero shortly.
"Huh! You and I is going to be pals. Harry's been blabbing. You don't happen to have brought that 'ere banjo along with you?"
Jim had not, but promised to do so if this new friend liked.
"Why, in course we like," cried Hundley, for that was the man's name. "Seems that you're to live 'way down there at Gatun, so the boys along over there will get you of an evening; but you'll feed with us midday. I tell you, Jim, there's times when a man feels dull out here, particularly if he's had a go of fever, same as I have. It takes the life out of a fellow, and ef he ain't brightened he gets to moping. That's why I'm precious keen on music; a song soothes a man. There's heaps like me up at the club; jest steady, quiet workers, sticking like wax to the job, 'cos the most of us can't settle to pack and leave till we've seen the canal completed."
There it was again! Right along the fifty miles of works Jim had come across the same expressions. It mattered not whether a man drove a steam digger or a dirt train, whether he were official or labouring employee, if he were American, as all were, the canal seemed to have driven itself into his brain; the undertaking had become a pet child, a work to be accomplished whatever happened, an exacting friend not to be cast aside or deserted till all was ended and a triumph accomplished. But Jim had heard the request, and promptly acceded.
"I'll bring the banjo along one of these days right enough," he smiled. "Perhaps you'll make a trip down to Gatun and hear one of our concerts. They tell me there's to be one within a few days."
Hundley eagerly accepted the invitation, and then proceeded to instruct our hero. As to the latter, he found no great difficulty in understanding the work, and, indeed, in taking charge of the machine. For here it was not quite as it was with a hundred-ton digger, when the lip of the huge shovel might in some unexpected moment cut its way beneath a mass of rock, and be brought up short with a jerk capable of doing great damage. The rock drill, on the other hand, pounded away, the engine revolving the drill, while the crew of the machine saw that the gears were thrown out when necessary, and an extra length added to the drill. If the hardened-steel point of the instrument happened to catch—as was sometimes the case—and held up the engine, then steam had to be cut off quickly, the drill reversed and lifted, so as to allow it to begin afresh.
"You never know what's goin' to happen," explained Hundley; "but most times things is clear and straightforward. You lengthen the drill till you've run down about 30 feet: that means eight hours' solid work—a day's full work, Jim. You don't see the real result till the next morning; but my, how those dynamite shots do rip the place about! For instance, jest here where we're sinkin' the drill we're yards from the edge of the step we're working on. Well now, that shot'll be rammed home, and the hole plugged over it. Something's got to go when dynamite is exploded, and sense there's all this weight of stuff to the outside of the terrace, and the shot is 30 feet deep, the outer lip gives way, and jest this boring results in tons of rock and dirt being broken adrift. It's when you see the huge mass of loose stuff next morning that you realize that you ain't been doin' nothin'."
At the end of a week Jim was placed in entire charge of a rock drill, while a negro was allocated to the machine to help him. Then, somewhat later than the official had intimated, the motor driller was completed, and our hero was drafted to the Gorgona works for some days, to practise with the implement and get thoroughly accustomed to it. It was a proud day when he occupied the driving seat, threw out his clutch, and set the gears in mesh. Then, the engine buzzing swiftly, and a light cloud of steam coming from the nozzle of the radiator—for, like all rapidly moving motor engines designed for stationary work, the water quickly heated—he set the whole affair in motion, and trundled along the highroad towards the cut.
"If you don't make a tale of this machine I shall be surprised," said the official, as he bade him farewell. "This motor should get through the rock very quickly, quicker a great deal than the steam-driven ones. But go steady along the road; steering ain't so easy."
Easy or not, Jim managed his steed with skill, and soon had the affair on one of the terraces. He had already had a certain part allotted to him, and within an hour of his departure from the works had set his first drill in position. Nor was it long before he realized that the desire of the staff at Gorgona was to be more than realized; for the drill bit its path into the rock swiftly, more so than in the case of the slower revolving steam drills, while there were fewer sudden stops. That first day he accomplished two bore holes, giving four hours to each operation. His cheeks were flushed with pleasure when he reported progress to the official.
"And the engine?" asked the latter. "She ran well?"
"Couldn't have gone better," declared Jim. "She gives off ample power, and there is plenty of water for cooling. That machine easily saves the extra dollar wages you offered."
"And will pay us handsomely to repeat it, for then there will be more dirt for the diggers to deal with, and the more there is the sooner the cut will be finished. We can always manage to get extra diggers."
That the innovation was a success was soon apparent to all, and many a time did officials come from the far end of the canal works to watch Jim at work, and to marvel at the swiftness with which his machine opened a way through the rock. It was three months later before anything happened to disturb our hero, and during all that time he continued at his work, coming from Gatun in the early hours, usually aboard an empty spoil train, but sometimes by means of one of the many motor trolley cars which were placed at the disposal of inspectors. At the dinner hour he went off to one of the Commission hotels, and there had a meal, and often enough sang for the men to the banjo which he had since purchased. When the whistles blew at sundown he pulled on his jacket, placed a mackintosh over his shoulders if it happened to be raining, which was frequently the case, and sought for a conveyance back to Gatun. And often enough these return journeys were made on the engine hauling a loaded spoil trail.
As for Tom and Sam, the two negroes had received posts at the very beginning, the little negro working with the sanitary corps and the huge Tom being made into a black policeman.
"He's got a way with the darkies," explained Phineas, when announcing the appointment, "and I've noticed that they're mighty civil to him. You see, the majority of our coloured gentry come from the West Indies, and, though they are likely enough boys, they are not quite so bright, I think, as are the negroes from the States. Anyway, Tom has a way with them, and don't stand any sauce; while, when things are all right, he's ready to pass the time of day with all, and throw 'em a smile. Gee, how he does laugh! I never saw a negro with a bigger smile, nor a merrier."
It may be wondered what had happened to the worthy and patient Ching. The Chinaman was far too good a cook to have his talents wasted in the canal zone, and from the very beginning was installed in that capacity at Phineas Barton's quarters, thus relieving the lady who had formerly done the work. The change, indeed, was all for the best, for now Sadie received more attention.
Three months almost to a day from the date when Jim had begun to run the motor drill the machinery got out of order.
"One of the big ends of a piston flew off," he reported to the official, when the latter arrived. "Before I could stop her running the piston rod had banged a hole through the crank case, and I rather expect it has damaged the crank shaft."
It was an unavoidable accident, and meant that the machine must undergo repair.
"You'll have to be posted to another job meanwhile, Jim," said the official. "Of course I know that this is none of your doing. We shall be able to see exactly what was the cause of the accident to that piston rod when we've taken the engine down. Perhaps one of the big end bolts sheered. Or there may have been a little carelessness when erecting, and a cotter pin omitted. But I don't think that: my staff is too careful to make errors of that sort. How'd you like to run one of the inspection motor trolleys? They were asking me for a man this morning; for one of the drivers is down with fever. You'd be able to take on the work at once, since you understand motors. Of course there isn't any timetable to follow. You just run up and down as you're wanted, and all you've got to learn really is where the switches and points are; so as to be able to sidetrack the car out of the way of the dirt trains."
So long as it was work in connection with machinery Jim was bound to be pleased, and accepted the work willingly. The next day he boarded the inspection car at Gatun, and within half an hour had made himself familiar with the levers and other parts. Then he was telephoned for to a spot near Gorgona, and ran the car along the rails at a smart pace. Twice on the way there he had to stop, reverse his car, and run back to a siding, there to wait on an idle track till a dirt train had passed.
"You'll get to know most every switch in a couple of days," said the negro who was in charge of this particular point, "and sometimes yo'll be mighty glad that you did come to know 'em. Them spoil trains don't always give too much time, particularly when there's a big load and they're coming down the incline from way up by Culebra."
The truth of the statement was brought to our hero's mind very swiftly; for on the following morning, having run out on the tracks ahead of an empty spoil train, and passed a passenger train at one of the stations, he was slowly running up the incline into the Culebra cut when he heard a commotion in front of him. At once he brought his car to a standstill beside one of the points.
"Specks there's been a breakdown, or something of that sort," said the man in charge, coming to the side of the car. "The track's clear enough, but I guess there'll be a dirt train along most any minute. Are you for runnin' in over the points out of the way?"
At that moment Jim caught sight of something coming towards him. Suddenly there appeared over the brow of the incline the rear end of a dirt train, and a glance told him that it was loaded. A man was racing along beside one of the cars, somewhere about the centre of the train, and was endeavouring to brake the wheels with a stout piece of timber. Jim saw the timber suddenly flicked to one side, the man was thrown heavily, then, to his horror, there appeared a whole length of loaded cars racing down towards him, with nothing to stop the mad rush, not even an engine.
"Gee, she's broken away from the loco!" shouted the man at the points. "She's runnin' fast now, but in a while she'll be fair racing. Time she gets here, which'll be within the minute, she'll be doing sixty miles an hour. She'll run clear way down to Gatun. Come right in over the points."
He ran to open the switch, so that Jim could reach safety, while our hero accelerated his engine in preparation for the movement. Then a sudden thought came to his mind. He recollected the passenger train which was coming on behind him.
"Man," he shouted, "there's a passenger coming 'way behind us! The cars were filled with people when I passed. She's ahead of the dirt trains, and of course does not expect to have a full spoil train running down on this line. She'll be smashed into a jelly."
"So'll you if you don't come right in," cried the man, waving to Jim frantically.
But he had a lad of pluck to deal with. Jim realized that between himself and the oncoming passenger train, now some six miles away perhaps, there lay a margin of safety for himself, if only he could run fast enough before the derelict spoil train racing towards him. But that margin might allow him to warn the driver of the passenger train. He took the risk instantly, shouted to the pointsman, and began to back his car. Fortunately it was one of those in which the reverse gear applied to all speeds, and, since there was no steering to be done, he was able to proceed at a furious pace.