Locked in a room of General Quesada's house, Walter Goodwin felt acutely sorry that he had not minded his own business. He ought to have reported his suspicions to the American officials of the Canal Zone. In his rash eagerness to play a man's part he had undertaken a task too big for him. He was badly frightened, and yet he could not bring himself to realize that serious danger threatened him.  
Waiting in the darkened room, he heard the boat's crew make a landing at the sea-wall near by. Instead of passing into the street, they turned and began to climb the stone staircase, in the rear of the house. Their talk had ceased. One of them laughed and another hushed him with a low command. There was something sinister in this approach. Walter surmised that their errand might concern him. Into his mind came the tales he had read of wild,[Pg 153] cruel deeds done in this Bay of Panama in days gone by.
 
The men from the boat halted on the staircase, and presently Walter heard the rumbling undertones of General Quesada. A door was opened, and the swarthy sailors from the Juan Lopez filed into the room. They closed around Walter as if intending to take him with them. He wanted to motion them away, to show them that he was an American, that he could take his medicine like a man, but, alas! the brave, boyish impulse came to naught. He could only stare stupidly at one and the other, as if beseeching them to reveal their purpose. The mate in charge of the party, a sprightly, shock-headed fellow with gold rings in his ears, liked the lad because he made no foolish outcry, and tried to cheer him with a friendly grin.
 
They escorted him to the sea-wall and thrust him into the boat. If he shouted for help, only the Panamanian sentries posted along the ancient fortification would hear him. It was no business of theirs if a sailor was being carried off to his ship. In the stern loomed the broad, shapeless figure of General Quesada. The oars made bright flashes in the phosphorescent[Pg 154] waters of the bay, and the boat moved out into the silent night.
 
Walter comprehended that he was being carried on board the Juan Lopez, because General Quesada was afraid to leave him behind as a witness of his misdeeds. It was a most alarming situation, but Walter was comforted by the hope that Captain Brincker would befriend him during the filibustering voyage. The soldier of fortune was the most masterful man of the rascally company and was likely to hold the upper hand.
 
At length the low hull of the laden steamer was discernible in the star-lit darkness. A gangway had been lowered, and after General Quesada had clumsily clambered to the deck, Walter followed with the help of the good-natured mate. He was promptly shoved into a small deck-house and left to wonder miserably what would happen next. There was much commotion in the steamer. From the loud talk, Walter gathered that she was ready to sail as soon as Captain Brincker should come on board. The forlorn lad anxiously listened for the strong voice of the soldier of fortune.
 
A sailor entered the deck-house on some hasty[Pg 155] errand and left the door unfastened. Walter ventured outside and was unnoticed in the confusion. Leaning over the rail, he gazed at the lights of Ancon and thought of his stanch friends Jack Devlin and Alfaro. They would not know what had become of him. They were powerless to aid him.
 
A gasolene launch was coming toward the steamer from the direction of Panama. The filibustering crew was more noisily excited than ever. Captain Brincker was expected to come off from shore in a row-boat. This sputtering launch was instantly suspected. The Juan Lopez was a steamer with an uneasy conscience, quick to take alarm. Her hull began to vibrate to the clangorous beat of her engines as she prepared to take flight.
 
The launch swung in a wide arc to pass close alongside. General Quesada was hailed in Spanish and told to wait for an important interview. He was not inclined to parley. All he could think of was that the American authorities wished to overhaul and search the steamer, and he frantically ordered her to make for the open sea at top speed.
 
[Pg 156]
 
The voice from the launch had sounded familiar to Walter Goodwin. Hope leaped in his heart. His friends were trying to rescue him. Before he could call out, Fernandez Garcia Alfaro was shouting to him in English:
 
"Ho, there, Goodwin! We are wide awake. Keep your courage. We will not give you up!"
 
Walter tried to yell a glad response, but a hand was clapped over his mouth, and he was roughly dragged back into the deck-house. For the moment disappointment overwhelmed him, but he found consolation in the fact that his friends had traced and followed him. Otherwise he would have felt quite hopeless, for the Juan Lopez had sailed without Captain Brincker and there was no one to stand between him and the ruffianly vengeance of General Quesada.
 
The general was too busy during the night to pay heed to his prisoner. He sorely needed the seasoned soldier of fortune to handle the lawless crew. The encounter with the launch had made him fear pursuit, and his martial spirit was considerably harassed. He blamed Walter Goodwin as the source of his woes, and yearned to knock the meddlesome young passenger on the[Pg 157] head and toss him overboard. This was not feasible, however, because although the ship's company was ripe for revolution, rebellion, or piracy on the high seas, they would draw the line at cold-blooded murder. It seemed an easier solution of the problem to take Goodwin ashore with the expedition and conveniently lose him in the jungle of San Salvador.
 
"He looks at me like the cat that swallowed the canary," sighed Walter next morning. "Oh, if my right arm was only well and sound, I might fight my way out of this fix somehow. But I just can't believe that things won't come my way."
 
There were several English-speaking adventurers on board, recruited from the ranks of the "tropical tramps" of Colon and Panama, and General Quesada was unwilling to have Walter make their acquaintance. His story might enlist their sympathy. He was therefore removed from the deck-house and put in a small state-room below. A sentry was posted outside the door, and a boy from the galley brought the rough rations served out to the crew.
 
It was a tedious imprisonment, with nothing[Pg 158] to do but lie in the bunk, or walk to and fro three steps each way, or gaze through the round port-hole at the shining, monotonous expanse of ocean. Now and then the deck above his head resounded to the measured tramp of many feet and the cadenced rattle of breech-blocks and bayonets. Rifles had been broken out of the cargo, and the landing party was being drilled.
 
The boldly romantic character of the voyage made Walter's blood tingle. To be afloat with these modern buccaneers who were bound out to raid the Spanish Main was like a dream come true. But he had no part in it. He was something to be got rid of. Youth is not easily dismayed, however, and the whole experience was too fantastic, too incredible, for Walter to regard his plight as gravely as the facts warranted.
 
On the second day at sea, he was staring through the open port, sadly thinking about the fond household in Wolverton. There was a sudden shouting on deck. The engines of the Juan Lopez clanked and groaned as if they were being driven beyond the limit of safety, and every beam and plate and rivet of the rusty hull[Pg 159] protested loudly. Some one ran through the cabin shouting:
 
"They are after us, all right. This blighted old hooker can't get away."
 
Walter cheered and jubilantly pounded the door with his undamaged fist. A faster steamer was chasing the Juan Lopez. It must have been sent out from the Canal Zone. Poking his head through the port, he squirmed as far as his shoulders would let him. Far astern he caught a glimpse of a black, sea-going tug of large tonnage, whose tall prow was flinging aside the foam in snowy clouds.
 
Soon the Juan Lopez sharply altered her course and began to edge in toward the coast. From this new angle Walter was able to watch the tug draw nearer and nearer until he could make out the khaki uniforms of the marines massed forward.
 
"Here is where General Quesada gets what is coming to him," he cried exultantly.
 
He wiped his eyes and blubbered for joy. He was proud of his country. There was no taking liberties with Uncle Sam on the high seas! A little later he became alarmed at discovering[Pg 160] that the Juan Lopez was heading straight for the beach. He comprehended the purpose of General Quesada. The steamer was to be rammed ashore and the crew would escape into the jungle. They might take Walter with them, beyond all reach of rescue.
 
Now the bullets from the tug began to rattle against the fleeing steamer or to buzz overhead. Walter dodged away from the port-hole and tried to kick the state-room door from its hinges. He could hear the crew working in wild haste to cast loose and lower the boats. From the hold came a tremendous roar of steam. The Juan Lopez was in danger of blowing up before she stranded.
 
Then there came a rending shock as she struck the beach. Walter was thrown from his feet and dazed, but he managed to scramble to the port-hole, where he could see the crew diving overboard and fleeing through the surf. Others were tumbling pell-mell into the boats. In any other circumstances the flight of these bold revolutionists would have been vastly amusing.
 
Walter began to hope that he had been forgotten in the panic. As soon as the ship was[Pg 161] deserted he would smash the flimsy door and gain the deck, where he could signal the other vessel and let his friends know that he was alive and well.
 
Before he could break his way out, the door was hastily unlocked, and there stood General Quesada, perspiring freely and greatly excited. He had delayed to get his precious prisoner who knew too much. Carelessly assuming that in his disabled condition Walter could make no resistance, he proposed to take him from the ship single-handed. In expecting meek obedience he was guilty of a serious error of judgment. With rescue so near, the robust youth was in no mood to obey the beckoning gesture.
 
He objected to being led into the jungle, and his objection was sudden and violent. His wits ............