One evening I stumbled into a nest of eleven Bengali
peddlers with the bare floor of their single room as bed, table,
and chairs; in one corner, surmounted by their little embroidered
skull-caps, were stacked the bundles with which they pester Zone
housewives, and in another their god wrapped in a dirty rag
against profaning eyes.
Many days had passed before I landed the first Zone resident I
could not enroll unassisted. He was a heathen Chinee newly
arrived, who spoke neither Spanish nor English. It was "Chinese
Charlie" who helped me out. "Chinese Charlie" was a resident of
the Zone before the days of de Lesseps and at our first meeting
had insisted on being enrolled under that pseudonym, alleging it
his real name. Upstairs above his store all was sepulchral silence
when I mounted to investigate--and I came quickly and quietly down
again; for the door had opened on the gaudy Oriental splendor of a
joss-house where dwelt only grinning wooden idols not counted as
Zone residents by the materialistic census officials. On the
Isthmus as elsewhere "John" is a law-abiding citizen--within
limits; never obsequious, nearly always friendly, ready to answer
questions quite cheerily so long as he considers the matter any of
your business, but closing infinitely tighter than the maltreated
bivalve when he fancies you are prying too far.
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