On the screened veranda of a somewhat sooty and dismal building
high up near the summit of the town, another and I were pacing
anxiously back and forth when, well on in the morning, an abrupt
and rather gloomy-faced American dashed into the building and one
of the rooms thereof, snapping over his shoulder as he
disappeared, "One of you!" The other had precedence. Then soon
from behind the wooden shutters came a growl of "Next!" and two
moments later I was standing in the reputed costume of Adam on the
scales within. At about ten-second intervals a monosyllable fell
from the lips of the morose American as he delved into my personal
make-up from crown to toe with all the instrumental circumspection
known to his secret-discovering profession. Then with a gruff
"Dress!" he sat down at a table to scratch a few fantastic marks
on the blank I had brought, and hand it to me as I caught up my
last garment and turned to the door. But, alas--tight sealed! and
all the day, though carrying the information in my pocket, I must
live in complete ignorance of whether I had been found lacking an
eye or a lung. For sooner would one have asked his future of the
scowling Parques than venture to invoke a hint thereof from that
furrow-browed being from the Land of Bruskness.
Meanwhile, as if it had been thus planned to give me such
opportunity, I stood at the very vortex of canal interest and
fame, with nearly an entire day before the evening train should
carry me back to Corozal.
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