Life seemed to hang more heavily even on humanity; "Zoners" looked
less gay and carefree than in the sunny dry season, though still
far more so than in the north. One could not shake off a
premonition of impending disaster in I know not what form--like
that of Teufelsdroeck before he entered the "Center of
Indifference."
Dr. O--- of the Sanitary Department had gone up into the interior
along the Trinidad river to hunt mosquitoes. Why he went so far
away for them in this season was hard to understand. There he was,
however, and the order had come to bring him back to civilization.
The execution thereof fell, of course, to my friend B---, who to
the world at large is merely Policeman No.----, to the force
"Admiral of the Inland Fleet," and in the general scheme of things
is a luckier man than Vanderchild to have for his task in life the
patrolling of Gatun Lake. B--- invited me to go along. There was
nothing particular doing in the criminal line around Gatun just
then; moreover the doctor was known to be well armed and there was
no telling just how much resistance he might offer a single
policeman. I accepted.
I was at the appointed rendezvous promptly at seven, a pocket
filled with commissary cigars. Strict truthfulness demands the
admission that it was really eight, however, when B--- came
wandering down the muddy steps behind the railroad station,
followed by a black prisoner with a ten-gallon can of gasoline on
his head.
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