the electric light, "and when I get 'em I generally imagine my
room-mate is a burglar trying to go through my junk and--"

He reached under his pillow and brought to light a "Colt's" of 45
caliber; then crossing the room he pointed to three large
irregular splintered holes in the wall some three or four inches
above me, and which I had not already seen simply because I had
not chanced to look that way.

"There's the last three. But I'm tryin' to break myself of 'em,"
he concluded, slipping the revolver back under his pillow and
turning off the light again.

Which is among the various reasons why it was without protest
that, with "the Captain's" telephoned consent on the ground that I
was now virtually on the force, I took up my residence in Corozal
police station. 'T is a peaceful little building of the usual Zone
type on a breezy knoll across the railroad, with a spreading tree
and a little well-tended flower plot before it, and the broad
world stretching away in all directions behind. Here lived
Policeman T----and B---." First-class policemen" perhaps I should
take care to specify, for in Zone parlance the unqualified noun
implies African ancestry. But it seems easier to use an adjective
of color when necessary. Among their regular duties was that of
weighing down the rocking-chairs on the airy front veranda, whence
each nook and cranny of Corozal was in sight, and of strolling
across to greet the train-guard of the seven daily passengers;
though the irregular ones that might burst upon them at any moment
were not unlikely to resemble a Moro expedition in the
Philippines. B--- and I shared the big main room; for T----, being