The Pirate of Panama | Page 3

one of these last was jotted
down the words: "Umbrela Tree."
A little cross had been drawn near the foot of a hill. From this a long
line ran into the bay with a loop at the end in which had been printed
neatly: "Where Lobardi croked. Good riddance."
Not far from this were three little circles, beneath which was one word
in capitals, "ITTE."
My heart leaped like an unleashed foxhound taking the trail. What
could it mean but treasure? What had happened to the Santa Theresa?
Had some one helped Lobardi to "croke" by cracking his skull? Could
that dim, red ink once have been, the life blood in a man's veins?
Here was food enough to fire the blood of a cool-headed Yankee, let
alone that of a mad Irishman. I caught a vision of a boatload of
red-turbaned buccaneers swarming up the side of a brig; saw the swish
of cutlases and the bellying smoke of pistols; beheld the strangely
garbed seadogs gathered around an open chest of yellow gold bars
shining in the sun.
For an eyebeat it was all clear to me as day. Then I laughed aloud at
myself in returning sanity. I was in the twentieth century, not the
eighteenth. An imagination so vivid that it read all this from a scrap of
paper picked from the gutter needed curbing. I repocketed the chart and
went to lunch.
But I found I could not laugh myself out of my interest. The mystery of

it drew me, despite myself. While I waited for my chop I had the map
out again, studying it as a schoolboy does a paper-backed novel behind
his geography.
Beneath the map were some closely written lines of directions for
finding "itte," whatever that might be. As to that my guess never
wavered.
Whoever had drawn the map had called the peninsula "Doubloon Spit."
Why? Clearly because he and his fellow buccaneers had buried there
the ill-gotten treasure they had gained from piracy. No doubt the Santa
Theresa was a gold ship they had waylaid and sunk.
At my entrance I had taken a little side table, but the restaurant was
filling rapidly. A man stopped beside my table and took off a frogged
overcoat with astrakhan trimmings. He hung this and his hat on a rack
and sat down in the chair opposite me.
Instinctively I had covered the map with a newspaper. With amazement
I now discovered that my vis-à-vis was the villain of the Adventure of
the Young Lady and the Chart, as the author of the "New Arabian
Nights" would have phrased it.
The man was in a vile humor, so much could be seen at a glance.
Without doing me the honor of a single glance he stared moodily in
front of him, his heavy black brows knit to a grim frown.
He was a splendid specimen of physical manhood, big and
well-muscled, with a broad, flat back and soldierly carriage. That he
was a leader of men was an easy deduction, though the thin, straight
mouth and the hard glitter in the black eyes made the claim that he
would never lead toward altruism.
In quick, short puffs he smoked a cigarette, and as soon as he had
finished it he lit a second. Men all around us were waiting their turn,
but I observed that the first lift of his finger brought an attendant.
"Tenderloin with mushrooms--asparagus tips--strong black

coffee--cognac," he ordered with the curtness of an army officer
snapping commands at a trooper. His voice was rich and cultivated, but
had a very distinctly foreign quality in spite of the fact that his English
was faultless.
I took advantage of the distraction of the waiter's presence to slip the
map from the table into my pocket. After this I breathed freer, for it is
scarcely necessary to say that in the struggle for the map--and by this
time I had quite made up my mind that there would be fought out a
campaign for its possession--I was wholly on the side of the young
woman.
But as yet I knew none of the facts, and so was not in a position to
engage with him to advantage. I called for the check and took my coat
and hat from the rack.
Then I made my first mistake. I should have carried my raincoat to the
door before putting it on. As I buttoned it recognition began to struggle
faintly into his eyes. I waited for no further developments.
But as I went out of the door I could see him hurrying forward.
Instantly I turned to the right, dodged into a tobacco shop, ran swiftly
through it to the surprise of the proprietor, and found myself in an alley.
I took this in