"Poor little beast," said the sympathetic Corporal, as he set
before it a generous pan of ice-water fresh from the police
station tank. The goat took one long, eager, grateful draught,
turned over on its back, curled up like the sensitive-plants of
Panama jungles when a finger touches them, and departed this vale
of tears. But Corporal-----was an artist of the first rank. Not
only did he "get away with it" under the very frowning battlements
of the judge, but sent the Spaniard up for ten days on the charge
against him. Z. P.'s who tell the story assert that the Spaniard
did not so much mind the sentence as the fact that the Corporal
got his goat.
Then there was "the Mystery of the Knocked-out Niggers." Day after
day there came reports from a spot out along the line that some
negro laborer strolling along in a perfectly reasonable manner
suddenly lay down, threw a fit, and went into a comatose state
from which he recovered only after a day or two in Ancon or Colon
hospitals. The doctors gave it up in despair. As a last resort the
case was turned over to a Z. P. sleuth. He chose him a hiding-
place as near as possible to the locality of the strange
manifestation. For half the morning he sweltered and swore without
having seen or heard the slightest thing of interest to an old
"Zoner.
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