SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 211 | Next

Franck, Harry Alverson, 1881-1962

"Zone Policeman 88; a close range study of the Panama canal and its workers"


That might have done for the day, but I had gathered a momentum it
was hard to check. Not long after returning from the police mess
to the swivel chair a slight omission in the day's program
occurred to me. I called up Corozal police station.
"What?" said a mashed-potato voice at the other end of the wire.
"Who's talking?"
"Policeman Green, sah."
"Station commander there?"
"No, sah. Station commander he gone just over to de Y. M. to play
billiards, sah. Dey one big match on to-night."
Of course I could have "got" him there. But on second thoughts it
would be better to see him in person and clear up at the same time
a little matter in one of the labor camps, and not run the risk of
causing the loss of the billiard championship. Besides Corozal is
cooler to sleep in than Ancon. In a black starry night I set out
along the invisible railroad for the first station.
An hour later, everything settled to my satisfaction, I had
discovered a vacant bed in Corozal bachelor quarters and was
pulling off my coat preparatory to the shower-bath and a well-
earned night's repose. Suddenly I heard a peculiar noise in the
adjoining room, much like that of a seal coming to the surface
after being long under water. My curiosity awakened, I sauntered a
few feet along the veranda. Beside one of the cots stood a short,
roly-poly little man, the lower third of whom showed rosy pink
below his bell-shaped white nightie.


Pages:
199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223