"It will cripple me for base-ball for a while."
"Ah, you plucky Yankees! You are always thinking of your grand sport of base-ball."
"I thought you had sailed for home," said Walter.
"My steamer had a break-down of her engines. She has not yet arrived from the south. My father has arranged by cable to have the Chilean ship touch at my port on her voyage to Valparaiso. She sails in three days more. I have come to Balboa to see the captain. Will you go on board with me?"
They climbed to the upper deck and while Alfaro did his errand, Walter leaned overside and gazed down at the small Panamanian steamer, whose name he discovered to be Juan Lopez. She was a dirty, disorderly vessel, and the crew, of all shades from black to white, looked as if some of them might be hanged before they were drowned.
No cargo was strewn about. Everything fetched from the wharf had been instantly hidden under the hatches. The man who had conferred with the checker came out of the cabin, glanced up, halted, and stared hard at Walter. When Alfaro returned, he asked him excitedly:
"Do you know anything about this Juan Lopez steamer alongside? And have you ever seen that man with the gray mustache before?"
"Yes, I have heard of the Juan Lopez. She made trouble on the coast of Colombia one time. It was a filibustering expedition, but they were not able to make a landing. That man? It is Captain Brincker. I was in Guayaquil when he got into some kind of a row with the government. Why do you ask with so much interest, Goodwin?"
"Oh, I was just curious," said Walter, unwilling to confide in the talkative, impulsive Colombian. "I suppose the Juan Lopez has reformed, or she would not be loading freight at Balboa."
"She is maybe trading on the Panama coast and up the rivers. Will you come back to Ancon with me and dine at the Tivoli Hotel to-night?"