"Hell and damnation," said the Lieutenant at length in a calm,
conversational tone of voice, with the air of a small boy who has
been wantonly robbed of a long-promised holiday but who is
determined not to make a scene over it. The Corporal seemed
indifferent, and stood with the far-away look in his eyes as if he
were already busy with some other plans or worries. But then, the
Corporal was married. As for myself, I had somehow felt from the
first that it was too good to be true. Adventure has steadily
dodged me all my days.

A half-hour later we were pitching across the bay toward Ancon
hill, scaled bare on one end by the work of fortification like a
Hindu hair-cut. The water came spitting inboard now and then, and
dejected silence reigned within the craft. But spirits gradually
revived and before we could make out the details of the wharf the
Corporal's hearty genuine laughter and the Lieutenant's rousing
carcajada were again drifting across the water. At Balboa I
unburdened myself of my shooting hardware and, catching the labor-
train, was soon mounting the graveled walk to Ancon police
station. In the second-story squad-room of the bungalow were eight
beds. But there were more than enough policemen to go round, and
the legal occupant of the bunk I fell asleep in returned from duty
at midnight and I transferred to the still warm nest of a man on
the "grave-yard" shift.

"It's customary to put a man in uniform for a while first before
assigning him to plain-clothes duty," the Inspector was saying
next morning when I finished the oath of office that had been
omitted in the haste of my appointment, "but we have waived that