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Through the wide-open doors the Panamanians could be seen, scurrying around a hose-cart, apparently in search of clothes; some were struggling into red shirts, others were stamping their feet into short boots or girding themselves with wide canvas belts. Meanwhile, the chief issued more orders and the bugle continued to blow. "Oh, look, boss!" Allan cried, quickly. "There must be a 'flagration."
Our natural course would be to use the pumps, but these, in the very midst of the con- flagration, were quite unavailable. For three long hours, in anxious suspense, we watched, and waited. Where we were we could not tell. One thing alone was certain; the tide was ebbing beneath us, and the waves were relaxing in their violence.
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