ship at anchor. 'Captain and fourteen men dead of it already, and
the cook and two men dying right now, and they're the last left of
her.'

"And by jinks he told the truth. And right then they were dying
forty a day in Guayaquil of Yellow Jack. But that was nothing, as
I was to find out. Bubonic plague and small-pox were raging, while
dysentery and pneumonia were reducing the population, and the
railroad was raging worst of all. I mean that. For them that
insisted in riding on it, it was more dangerous than all the other
diseases put together.

"When we dropped anchor off Guayaquil half a dozen skippers from
other steamers came on board to warn our skipper not to let any of
his crew or officers go ashore except the ones he wanted to lose.
A launch came off for me from Duran, which is on the other side of
the river and is the terminal of the railroad. And it brought off
a man that soared up the gangway three jumps at a time he was that
eager to get aboard. When he hit the deck he hadn't time to speak
to any of us. He just leaned out over the rail and shook his fist
at Duran and shouted: 'I beat you to it! I beat you to it!'

"'Who'd you beat to it, friend?' I asked. 'The railroad,' he said,
as he unbuckled the straps and took off a big '44 Colt's automatic
from where he wore it handy on his left side under his coat, 'I
staved as long as I agreed--three months--and it didn't get me. I
was a conductor.'

"And that was the railroad I was to work for. All of which was
nothing to what he told me in the next few minutes. The road ran