"8838"

For a few days after this conversation the Master of Transportation was in doubt as to what course he should pursue. In the end he did nothing, and the letter from St. Louis was permanently filed away. There were several reasons for this action. For one thing, he was a salaried man, and could not afford to lose his job. What influenced him most, however, was his genuine liking for Anthony. He could not bring himself to attach much weight to the suspicious circumstances connected with him. Being a man of sufficient courage to back his own judgment, he decided that no matter what might have been the past of Frank Wellar, alias Jefferson Locke, Kirk Anthony was entitled to another chance.

The first thing Kirk did when pay-day came was to enclose the greater part of his salary in an envelope and send it to John Weeks, with a note explaining that he had withheld only enough for his own actual needs, and promising to continue reducing his indebtedness by a like amount monthly. He was surprised beyond measure to have the remittance promptly returned. The brief letter that accompanied it brought him a flush of discomfort. What the deuce had made Mrs. Cortlandt do that? For a time he was undecided whether to be offended at her conduct or gratified, and he had not settled the matter to his satisfaction when he called upon her that evening.

"Weeks wrote me you had squared my account with him," he said, awkwardly. "I'm tremendously obliged, of course, and—I'll give this to you instead of him." He offered her the envelope with his pay enclosed.

"Don't be silly, Kirk," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I didn't wish Weeks to have any opportunity to talk. You need this money and I don't."

"Perhaps I should have offered it to Mr. Cortlandt."

"Stephen knows nothing about the Weeks affair. If you choose to regard my little favor as a debt, however, please let it run on until you are better able to pay."

But Anthony remained inflexible, and at last she accepted his proffer with some impatience.

"You are the most foolish person I ever knew," she remarked. "Can't you understand that such obligations don't exist between friends? A few dollars mean nothing."

"A few dollars mean a good deal to me just now."

"You have the most disappointing way of receiving favors. I had a decent position for you, but you would go to collecting fares. I hope you have had enough of it by now, and are ready to take something worth while."

"Not until it comes naturally. No hop-skip-and-jump for mine."

Edith sighed. "It is terribly dull for me here at present," she said. "Mr. Cortlandt is very busy; I have no one to talk to; no one to amuse me. Why, I've scarcely seen you since you went to work."

"It is flattering to be missed."

"Will you come to the dance to-morrow night?"

He shook his head.

"The music is good; you will meet some nice people. If you remember, one of your qualifications for a position was that you are a good waltzer."

"I can't mingle with the 'quality.'"

"Be sensible. This is an invitation."

"I am getting sensible fast. I've learned something about Canal conditions. What would people say if Mrs. Stephen Cortlandt were seen dancing with the new collector of No. 2?"

"My dear boy, do you suppose Mrs. Stephen Cortlandt cares what these people say?"

"Mr. Stephen Cortlandt might."

"Mr. Stephen Cortlandt isn't snobbish, either."

"One has to be on the Canal Zone. Besides, to tell the sordid truth, I haven't any clothes."

Edith silently extended the envelope in her hand; but he laughed.

"Perhaps I'll come to the next dance. I'll be rich then. See!" He showed her a long slip of paper consisting of five coupons, each numbered "8838."

"Lottery tickets!"

He nodded. "Allan had a very particular dream about the number eight, so I invested five dollars 'silver' on his hunch. You know he has the most wonderful dreams. There was one about a whale—it was appallingly vivid."

"But you don't bet on all these miraculous whales and things?"

"Oh no. The whale was a little too much for me. But I thought I'd take a chance on the number eight, it didn't seem quite so apocryphal."

"But why did you select such a ridiculous combination? It isn't likely that the eight will come out three times in four."

"It's the number of my automobile license." Kirk sighed at the memory of his new French car. "You don't object to such gambling?"

"Hardly," laughed Edith, "when I have a ticket for the same drawing.
Every one does it, you know."

"If I win the capital prize I'll come to the next party and claim all the dances you will allow me."

"Not much encouragement in that for a lonely lady."

"Oh, I'm the luckiest chap in the world. The drawing comes off next Sunday, and it happens that I've been shifted to No. 6 for a few trips, so I'll have a chance to see the fun."

"If you were a little less quixotic and weren't so remarkably afraid of getting more than your deserts, you could come to all these dances."

"I'm sorry," he acknowledged, "but I have to do things in my own way."

It was a welcome change for him to sleep as late as he wished on Sunday morning, and he enjoyed the privilege to the full. Inasmuch as No. 6 did not leave until one o'clock, he had ample time in which to witness the lottery drawing, a thing he had been curious to see since he had first heard of it. This form of gambling was well recognized, it seemed; not only the natives, but all classes of Canal Zone workers, engaged in it freely. On every street corner women sold tickets day after day, and, as the drawings were conducted under rigid government supervision, the lottery had come to be regarded as a sort of public institution, quite as reputable as an ordinary church raffle.

Allan, vastly excited, was of course waiting to accompany him, and, when Kirk had finished a leisurely breakfast, the two strolled idly down into the city.

"Oh, boss," exclaimed the negro, "I feel that we shall h'experience good-fartune to-day."

"Did you buy a ticket?"

"No, sar, I reinvested all my monies travelling on those railroad trains."

"Now see how foolish you are. If you'd stayed at home you might have bought the winning number to-day."

"I prefer to h'accompany you. But—I have been thinking to make you a proposition of partnership. Master h'Auntony. I will stay home and dream numbers which you can purchase with your salary. In that manner we shall certainly burst this lottery."

"Oh, I see! You'll sleep while I rustle the coin to play. What's your idea of a fair division of the profits?"

"It is sometimes exceedingly fatiguing to dream," said Allan, defensively. "Sometimes one wastes an entire day and has no success."

"That's merely a question of diet. I could make you dream your head off."

"But I do not desire the profits, however, for being partners with you. I would like you to have plenty of monies, that is all. I love you, sar."

"Don't! You embarrass me."

"It is true, chief, I would die and—"

"Yes, yes, kill yourself."

"I pray to God h'every day that some bad man will h'assault you in order that I may die for you." The Jamaican was growing excited, as usual when he dwelt upon this subject. "I would h'enjoy to shed my blood for you, sar. I would like to see it running—running—running—" He waved his arms wildly.

"Don't bleed to death."

"I wish to suffer and scream and groan, so that you will be knowing—"

"Never mind. I think I get the idea. But I'm not going to allow it, and
I'm not going to allow you to dream—you sleep too much as it is.
Besides, your dreams are no good. Look at that whale dream of yours,
for instance."

"Oh, sar, the 'fish' number did not win, to be sure, but 'water' did."

"But you didn't dream about water, it was about fish, 'vivid' fish."

"I did not chance to think of the water," acknowledged Allan, "but there was the whale lying upon the h'edge of the h'ocean, h'all the time."

The drawing, which was for a capital prize of fifteen thousand dollars "silver," had drawn a larger crowd than usual, and when the two reached Cathedral Square they found the lottery building thronged to overflowing with the usual polyglot elements that make up these Latin-American gatherings—negroes, Indians, Panamanians, Spaniards, Americans—while in the Plaza itself other groups were waiting to hear the report.

By dint of considerable effort Kirk succeeded in working his way through the wide double doors, and, being much above the average height, he was able to get a good view of the proceedings. Upon a platform a group of ceremonious officials were gathered about a revolving wire cage, so arranged that it could be whirled rapidly upon its axis. Into it were put ten ivory spheres, resembling billiard-balls in size and appearance. When this had been done, the cage was closed, and a very badly frightened twelve-year-old girl was selected at random from the audience, then lifted to the stage, where it required the commands and entreaties of her excited parents to prevent her from dissolving in tears. At a word from the master of ceremonies the cage was spun until the ivory balls inside leaped and capered like captive squirrels. Then at another signal it was stopped. The door was opened and the little girl reached in a trembling hand and selected a sphere. It proved to be hollow, with two halves screwed together, and in full sight of the assembly it was opened, displaying a bit of paper inside.

"Ocho!" cried the announcer, and a card bearing the numeral "8" was raised. The paper was replaced inside the ivory ball, the ball itself was dropped into the wire cage, the door was closed, and once more the cage was spun.

Kirk was much interested in the scene, not from any faintest hope that he would draw a prize, but purely from the novel atmosphere and color of the thing. While his eyes were busiest, and just as the child prepared to draw another ball, he felt a clutch upon his arm, and, glancing down, beheld the glowing black eyes of Senor Ramon Alfarez fixed upon him.

Alfarez was dressed immaculately, this time in civilian's white linen, his ferocious little mustachios carefully pointed, his cheeks freshly shaven and talcumed, his slender feet encased in white canvas shoes. A wonderful Guayaquil hat, the creamy straws of which were no thicker than silk threads, crowned his sleek, raven locks. It must have cost a small fortune. He carried a dapper little cane, with which he tapped his former prisoner to attract his attention.

At sight of him Kirk drew down his brows and said, gruffly:

"Don't poke me with that umbrella."

He turned away, but again Alfarez touched him with the rattan.

"I will spik' wit' you, hombre," he said.

"If you keep jabbing me with that crutch I'll break it, and then you can't walk home."

Ramen jerked his head toward the square outside in an imperious fashion, and Kirk, curious to learn the cause of this unusual excitement, followed him without demur. When they had reached the street the Spaniard turned with flashing eyes and a mirthless smile.

"Well!" he said, dramatically.

"Pretty well. How goes it with you?"

"So! You 'ave socceed in your cowardly attemp'."

"My what?"

"I am lose my poseetion as Commandante of Police."

"You don't say so!" Kirk's face broke into a smile of real pleasure.

"Ha! Makes it you to laugh, then?" exclaimed the Panamanian, excitedly.
"Per'aps you shall answer to those detestable actions, senor."

"Perhaps! I see you blame me for the loss of your job. Well, maybe you won't beat up the next American you get your hands on."

"Bot—I 'ave another poseetion!" Ramen exulted.

"Indeed! Are you 'behind the ribbons' at the local Wanamaker's?"

"I 'ave been promote! I am appoint' yesterday by his Excellency the Presidente to be his secretary. So! Those dastardly attack of yours is transpire to my blessing. It will be always so."

"I suppose it's a good job, but you ought to be selling poison in a drug-store. Did you call me out to hear this news?"

"Si!" Alfarez nodded his head vigorously. Then, narrowing his eyes, he said, meaningly, in a voice that none might overhear, "Panama is sometimes very on'ealthy city for fat Americans." He ran a hostile glance up and down Anthony's burly frame. "It is the climate per'aps—of too great 'eat."

"In other words, you intend to make it hot for me, eh?"

"I?" The ex-commandant shrugged his shoulders in eloquent denial. "I shall do not'ing, bot—if you are wise man you will not display yourself to the dangers of these climate; you will return 'ome."

"Say! I've a good notion to punch your head."

Alfarez paled slightly.

"Soch would be most dangerous, for in Chiriqui prison there is at the present some fatal disease." He laughed sneeringly. "The senor is reech man's son, eh? Those do not geeve the appearance."

With supreme insolence he touched one of the buttons upon Kirk's linen uniform with his cane, whereat the American snatched the stick out of his hand, broke it, and tossed it into the street. His blood was up, and in another breath he would have struck the Spaniard, regardless of consequences, but just at that moment Allan, dashed out of the crowd crying, breathlessly:

"Oh, boss! Oh, BOSS! Glory to God, it is true! OH-H-H GLORY!" Seizing Kirk's hands, he kissed them before the other could prevent, then ran on frantically: "Come quick! Come! Come! Come!"

"Look out!" snapped Kirk, angrily. "What's happened?"

"The dream! The dream is come! Oh, God, sar! You—you have won the capital prize, sar!"

Alfarez's exclamation, as much as the boy's wild hysteria, brought
Anthony to himself.

"NO! Honest, now! What's the number?" he exclaimed.

"H'eight, h'eight, three, h'eight," sobbed the Jamaican. Kirk made a dive for his coat-pocket, while Allan continued in a rising voice:

"Glory to God, sar! Glory to God! It is fifteen thousand dollars 'silver.' I thought I should h'expire from fright. Oh, I—Quick! Praise be—Do not say you have lost the ticket or I shall die and kill myself—"

"Here it is!" In his hand Anthony waved a slip of paper, out of which leaped four big, red numbers-"8838."

"Carraho!" came from behind him, and he turned to behold Alfarez, livid of face and with shaking hand, fling a handful of similar coupons after the broken cane. Without another word or a glance behind him, the Panamanian made off across the Plaza, barely in time to, escape the crowd that surged around the two he had quitted.

Bombarded by a fusillade of questions in a dozen tongues, jostled by a clamoring, curious throng, the lucky owner of 8838 fought his way back into the lottery building, and, as he went, the news spread like flaming oil.

There it was, plainly displayed, "8838"! There could be no possible mistake, and it meant fifteen thousand silver pesos, a princely fortune indeed for the collector of No. 2.

Promptly at five minutes to one o'clock that afternoon, Allan Allan, late of Jamaica, strode through the Panama railroad station and flaunted a first-class, round-trip ticket to Colon before the eyes of his enemy, the gateman. He was smoking a huge Jamaican cigar, and his pockets bulged with others. When he came to board the train, he called loudly for a porter to bring him the step and, once inside, selected a shady seat with the languid air of a bored globe-trotter. He patronized the "butcher" lavishly, crushing handful after handful of lemon-drops noisily between his teeth and strewing orange peel and cigar ashes on the floor with the careless unconcern that accords with firmly established financial eminence. He spat out of the window, he waved a dignified greeting to his countrymen gathered upon station platforms, he halted hurrying brakemen to inquire times of arrival and departure, and in general he had the time of his young life.

Only when Kirk appeared upon his rounds did he forego his haughty complacency. Then his wide lips, which nature had shaped to a perpetual grin, curled back as they were intended, his smile lit up the car, and he burst into loud laughter.

"Enjoying yourself?" inquired his hero.

"Passably, sar, passably!" Then, with a painful assumption of seriousness: "How is the train, sar, may I ahsk?"

"On time."

"Rarely it is so, as a general thing. It is fartunate h'indeed that you consented to run her this time."

"In a hurry to get to Colon?"

"Quite so. It is h'impartant that I h'arrive promptly to-day. I have business h'affairs." His countenance assumed tortured lines as he endeavored to maintain his gravity, then failing in his attempt, he burst suddenly into a gale of merriment that sent forth a shower of peanuts and lemon candy. "Praise God, boss, we are 'appy gentlemen to-day, are we not?"

Kirk found that the report of his good-fortune had spread far and wide; he was halted a score of times for congratulations; operators at the various stations yelled at him and waved their hands; Runnels wired "Hurrah!" at Gatun. A certain respect was in these greetings, too, for he had suddenly become a character.

As yet, however, he had not fully considered what this windfall meant to him. His first thought had been that he could now discharge his debts, go back to New York, and clear himself before the law. Yet the more he thought of it the less eager he became to return. Seven thousand five hundred dollars in gold to Kirk Anthony, of Panama, Collector, was a substantial fortune. To Kirk Anthony, of Albany, Distributor, it was nothing. Suppose he went home and squared his account with the police, what would he do then? Nothing, as usual. Here, he was proving that the Anthony breed was self-supporting, at least. And there was another reason, the weightiest of all. Long before he had reached the end of his run he realized that not one hundred times the amount of this capital prize would tempt him to leave Panama before he had seen Chiquita.

Chiquita was beginning to seem like a dream. At times during the past week he had begun to wonder if she were not really a product of his own imagination. His fancy had played upon her so extravagantly that he feared he would not know her if ever they came face to face. His mental picture of her had lost all distinctness; her face was no longer clear-cut before his mind's eye, but so blurred and hazy that even to himself he could not describe her with any accuracy.

This was most unsatisfactory, and he reproached himself bitterly for the involuntary faithlessness that could allow her image to grow dim. He was almost without hope of seeing her again. And then, with the inconsequence of dreams and sprites, she appeared to him.

It was but a glimpse he had, and a tantalizing flash of recognition from her eyes. It happened in the dusk during the confusion that accompanied the arrival of No. 7 at Panama, and it came with a suddenness that stunned him. The station was jammed with a roaring flood of negroes, another crowd was forcing its way through the exits in the high iron fence, the street was a crush of Spiggoty coaches.

Kirk had volunteered to assist an old lady, and his arms were full of bundles as he guided her between the clicking teeth of a turnstile. He was helping her into a carriage when he heard the sharp clatter of hoofs upon the brick pavement, and looked up to see a fine Peruvian mare hitched to a tan-colored surrey skirting the confusion. A black coachman was driving, and there were several people in the carriage. Kirk cast it a casual glance, and just as he looked it swept into the glare of an electric light. Out from the back seat shone a perfect oval face, with soft, luminous eyes. It was just as he had pictured it, only more beautiful.

Kirk nearly upset his little old lady, who was struggling into her equipage. He swept his armful of bundles into the coach, seized his scandalized companion under the arms, and deposited her bodily upon a seat. Without waiting to hear from her, he dashed away through the bedlam. Under horses' heads he went, past flying hoofs and scraping wheels, jostling pedestrians, and little, brown policemen, until he had reached the outskirts of the crowd, where he vaulted into a vacant vehicle and called upon the driver to whip up.

"Quick! Quick! Follow that tan-colored surrey! I'll give you a dollar gold not to lose sight of it."

With the blandest of smiles the coachman started his horses, then, turning, he inquired, politely:

"'Otel Tivoli?"

"No, NO! Follow that carriage!"

"No sabe Ingles!" said the coachman.

Before Kirk had succeeded in making him understand, the street had become jammed with carriages and the Peruvian mare was lost to sight. After a half-hour of futile clattering back and forth, Kirk dismissed the driver.

But there was no doubt that she had recognized him, and nothing now could prevent him from continuing his search. The trouble was that his present occupation allowed him no opportunity. He was tied to the railroad except at night.

It was perhaps two weeks later that a serious shake-up occurred in the office force, of which no one seemed to know the cause. There was a mad scramble for advancement all along the line, in which Kirk took no part. But unexpectedly Runnels summoned him to his office.

"How would you like an inside position?" said the Master of
Transportation, eying him keenly.

"So soon?"

"I said I'd advance you if you made good." He paused an instant, then said, deliberately, "When you get the hang of things here you'll have a chance to be my assistant."

Kirk opened his eyes in amazement.

"Gee! That's great! But do you think I can get away with it?"

"Not at once. It will take time, of course, and you'll have to work like the devil." Runnels regarded him curiously, recalling the letter so carefully filed away. Then he yielded to his natural impulse.

"Look here, Anthony," he said, "I'm partly selfish in this, for I believe you're the sort I'm going to want within the next year. The superintendent has had an offer from a big system in the States, and he's going to quit when his vacation comes. He likes me, and he says I'll probably step into his shoes. Do you understand what that means? I'll need fellows I can count on—fellows who won't double-cross me to make a dollar for themselves, or knife me when my back is turned. I've got to have an efficient, noiseless organization. Otherwise we'll all go under, for we'll be into politics up to our necks. I think you're my sort, so if you'll stick to me I'll help you, and for every step I take I'll drag you up one."

"It's a go!" The two young men clasped hands heartily. Runnels had struck the right note. Beside his former desire to prove himself a man, Kirk now felt a strong sense of loyalty to the one who had recognized his worth. This was no mere matter of promotion. He and Runnels would work shoulder to shoulder. A sense of responsibility descended upon him. For the first time he thoroughly understood the spirit of the ardent toilers who were giving their best to the Big Job. He was really one of them now, and the thought electrified him.

When he told his good news to Mrs. Cortlandt, her surprise was so cleverly simulated that he never dreamed that she had been at great pains to bring this thing about. Not that Runnels was indisposed to act upon his own initiative, but the circumstances that had made his action possible had been due to her. It was hard to help a man against his will; but she profited by experience, and took the line of least resistance.

The young man himself did not inquire too closely into the occasion of his advancement, and Edith Cortlandt was but little in his mind. He was consumed with the thought of Chiquita. He hoped that his new work would allow him more control of his time, and perhaps put him in the way of learning her name. He could move in better society now. Meanwhile he laid other plans. He took Allan into his confidence, and told him frankly that he was in love with a woman he did not know.

Of course his faithful follower was delighted, and made extravagant promises of aid.

"Now that the dry season has come," said Kirk, "people must be living at the Savannas, and I want you to haunt the region round that swimming-pool until you discover who she is. You must be my detective."

"Oh, boss, I would—"

"Don't tell me you'd die and kill yourself for me. I want you to live and find this girl for me. I'll take you out to-day, after office hours, and show you the place; then you'll have to do the rest. You talk Spanish, you know. But, above all, don't tip off."

"Tip h'off? What shall I be climbing, sar?"

"I mean you mustn't tell a soul."

"Never fear, boss. H'Allan will discover your female."

"And don't call her a 'female,' it sounds indecent. Remember, she has a Bajan with her, six feet tall, named Stephanie. Who knows? Maybe you can win Stephanie for yourself." Kirk chuckled at the thought.

"No, sar, if you please. Those Bajan 'oomen is all very disagreeable."

"You understand, I can't quit work to go looking for the girl, because I've simply got to tend to business. But I'll spend Sunday out there if you haven't already discovered her. Now, I'll chant this all over again on the way out, so you won't forget anything."