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I well remember the morning when a meek little Panamanian was testifying in his own behalf, in Spanish of course, when the judge broke in without even asking for a translation of the testimony: "That'll do! Because of your gestures I believe you are trying to bunco this court. You are lying tell him that," this to the negro interpreter; and he therewith sentenced the witness to jail.
Beyond a doubt the United States assisted the revolutionaries: they prevented the Colombian forces from attacking them. Panama was originally independent of Colombia, and had been badly treated by the Colombian Government, which, in its distant capital of Bogota, was out of touch with Panamanian interests, and returned to the province but a very small share of its taxes.
He was too busy with thoughts of his amazing good- fortune, his mind was too dazzled by the joy of freedom. Allan appeared from somewhere and clung to him in an ecstasy of delight. Colonel Jolson, Runnels, Anson, even the Panamanian officials shook hands with him. He accepted their congratulations mechanically, meanwhile keeping very close to his father's side.
"If you hadn't come, Carlos, where would I have been?" "Why did you come?" Graham asked. "Bobby was my friend," the Panamanian answered. "He had been very good to me. When I read of his grandfather's death I wondered why Maria had drugged him to keep him in New York. In the coincidence lurked an element of trouble for him.
When this and other efforts failed and there was talk of banning alien fishing in Panamanian waters, Yoshitaro Amano, who runs a store in Panama and has far flung interests all along the Pacific coasts of Central and South America, organized the Amano Fisheries, Ltd. In July, 1937, he built in Japan the "Amano Maru," as luxurious a fishing boat as ever sailed the seas.
On our cards, after the query "Color?" was a small space, a very small space in which was to be written quite briefly and unceremoniously "W," "B," or "Mx" as the case might be. Uncle Sam was in a hurry for his census. Early one afternoon our Panamanian helpmate burst upon one of his numerous aristocratic relatives in his royal thatched domains in the ancestral bush.
As if any Panamanian could talk earnestly of anything without waving his arms about him. The telephone-bell rang one afternoon. It was always doing that, twenty-four hours a day; but this time it sounded especially sharp and insistent. In the adjoining room, over the "blotter," snapped the brusk stereotyped nasal reply: "Ancon! Bingham talking!"
"I shall tell you the simple facts, if only to save my skin from this blood-thirsty district attorney." "Rub it in," Robinson grinned. "I'll take my medicine." They gathered closer about the Panamanian. Jenkins sidled to the back of his chair. "I don't see how you found it out," he muttered.
Up a flight of stairs he was escorted, his pulses quickening with apprehension, down a long corridor, and into a large room, where he saw Runnels, Colonel Jolson, Anson, Clifford, a dozen or more Panamanian officials, and he stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell upon a huge, white-crowned figure that came to meet him.
The table had lifted slowly toward the Panamanian. It stood now on two legs. "What is it?" Katherine said. "It's moving. I can feel it move beneath my fingers." Her words recalled to Bobby unavoidably his experience in the old room. "Don't do that!" the doctor cried. Paredes smiled. "If," he answered, "the source of these crimes is, as you think, spiritual, why not ask the spirits for a solution?
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