men, named Angel (and a queer black
angel he was!), sprang nimbly ashore, to proceed on "up town." The
other boatmen hauled the canoe higher.

"Angel's gone to find the mules," explained Mr. Adams, as all
disembarked, glad to stretch their legs. "There's not an animal in
sight; that's sure. The crowd ahead of us cleaned out the place."

"They didn't all get away, though. See the tents, yonder?" spoke Mr.
Grigsby; for three tents had been pitched, not far back from the river,
on the edge of the town.

Francisco saw, too, and shook his head vehemently, as did his comrades.

"Muy malo. Colera--mucha colera. Cuidado (Very bad. Cholera--much
cholera. Be careful)," he said.

"Shouldn't wonder," muttered Mr. Adams.

"I'll go over," volunteered Mr. Grigsby, "and see if we can do
anything." Shouldering his faithful rifle, the tall Fremonter strode
for the tents.

When he returned he reported that Francisco had guessed truly: the
tents held sick gold seekers, laid by with the dreaded cholera. But in
a couple of more tents, beyond, were some engineers on a survey for the
new Panama railroad. They had insisted that every horse and mule in
the region had been gobbled by the gold-seeker crowd, and that the
Adams party must wait for several days, at least, until the pack trains
returned from Panama. However, here came Angel, grinning, and
beckoning. He called shrilly; whereupon the three other boatmen
promptly shouldered the baggage and started for him.

"Angel evidently has fixed us out," asserted Mr. Adams, as with Charley
and Mr. Grigsby he followed.

"If he has he deserves his name," answered the Fremonter.

Angel led the way straight through the hot town, where the natives
stared languidly at the little procession, to a large plantation
beyond. Here, in a clearing devoted to maize and sugar-cane, amidst
bananas and plantains and palms, and huge acacias laden with fragrant
yellow blossoms, was nestled a white wooden house, two storied,
encircled with porch and wide upper veranda. A path of white crushed
shells led through luxuriant flowers to the front porch, where somebody
was lying in a hammock. Charley felt rather awed, for this evidently
was a wealthy ranch, belonging to cultured people.

As the party approached, crunching over the walk, the person in the
hammock rolled out, to receive them. He proved to be a stout, heavy
man, in loose white trousers, slippers, and white shirt. His
complexion w