Walter tingled with excitement. The checker must have an understanding with the captain or owner, or both, of the disreputable-looking little steamer hailing from Panama. Her destination could not be far distant. She could be overhauled at short notice. Instead of informing the American officials at Balboa, Walter swiftly decided to try to unravel the plot by himself. It would show them that he was good for something besides base-ball. And it might mean solid recognition. But there was something bigger than his own interests at stake. The spirit of the Canal Zone had taken hold of him. He knew that "graft" had been kept out of the organization. To have the fair record blotted, even in the smallest way, was hateful to him. He was as jealous of the honor of the "Big Ditch" as Colonel Gunther himself.
CHAPTER V TRAPPED IN OLD PANAMA
While Walter Goodwin was watching and waiting on the wharf the checker at the gangway suddenly became wary. He stormed among the laborers and abused them for blundering, turning them back with their truck-loads of commissary stores and otherwise imitating a man honestly doing his duty. Walter was uncertain whether the checker had spied him and taken alarm, or whether some one in authority had moved inconveniently near.
The little Panama steamer into which the stolen merchandise had been conveyed was making ready to cast loose and haul out into the stream. Walter feared she was about to sail and carry with her all his hopes of distinguishing himself as an investigator. He was elated, therefore, when a man of whom he had caught a glimpse on the vessel's bridge came on the wharf and halted to speak to the checker. The twain were together for several minutes. Walter had time to study the new-comer.
He was no longer young, bearing marks of hard living, but of an alert, resolute mien and rugged frame. He was a German, perhaps, certainly not a Spanish-American. He resembled not so much a seafarer as one of those broken soldiers of fortune, grown gray in adventures, to be found in ports of the uneasy republics near the equator, ripe for bold and unscrupulous enterprises and ready to serve any master.
These two were birds of a feather, thought Walter, and he must somehow find out why they flocked together. Guesses were not proof. He could follow the checker after the day's work was done and try to discover where he went and whom he met.
Presently the older man returned to the steamer. Then Walter's train of thought was derailed by a cordial voice and outstretched hand which belonged to his shipmate of the Saragossa, Señor Fernandez Garcia Alfaro.
"I have been to the hospital to see you, my dear friend," cried the Colombian diplomat. "I read it in a newspaper that you had a fight with a landslide. Ah, you are as strong as a brick house to be out so soon. The arm? Alas, is it serious?"