"It'll get through solid rock at a pace that will make you stare," declared Phineas, "though our friend at Gorgona believes that this new model that you're to run will do even better. But you can see what happens; these drills get to work where the diggers will follow. They drill right down, 30 feet perhaps, and then get along to another site. The powder men then come along, put their shot in position, place their fuse, wire it so that a current can be sent along to the fuse, and then get along to another drill hole. At sunset, when all the men have cleared, the shots are fired, and next morning there's loose dirt enough to keep the diggers busy. Guess you'll be put to work with one of these drillers, so as to learn a bit. You can't expect to handle a machine unless you know what's required of you." The following morning, in fact, found our hero dressed in his working clothes, assisting a man in the management of one of the rock drills. He had risen at the first streak of dawn, and after breakfasting, had clambered aboard an empty dirt train making for Culebra. "Yer know how to fire a furnace?" asked the man who was to instruct him. "Ay, that's good; I heard tell as I wasn't to have no greenhorn. Ain't you a pal o' Harry's?" There might have been only one Harry amidst the huge army of white employees; but Jim knew who was meant, and nodded promptly. "And you're the chap as went off into the swamps, across a lagoon, along with the Police Major, ain't you?" "Yes," responded our hero shortly. "Huh! You and I is going to be pals. Harry's been blabbing. You don't happen to have brought that 'ere banjo along with you?" Jim had not, but promised to do so if this new friend liked. "Why, in course we like," cried Hundley, for that was the man's name. "Seems that you're to live 'way down there at Gatun, so the boys along over there will get you of an evening; but you'll feed with us midday. I tell you, Jim, there's times when a man feels dull out here, particularly if he's had a go of fever, same as I have. It takes the life out of a fellow, and ef he ain't brightened he gets to moping. That's why I'm precious keen on music; a song soothes a man. There's heaps like me up at the club; jest steady, quiet workers, sticking like wax to the job, 'cos the most of us can't settle to pack and leave till we've seen the canal completed." There it was again! Right along the fifty miles of works Jim had come across the same expressions. It mattered not whether a man drove a steam digger or a dirt train, whether he were official or labouring employee, if he were American, as all were, the canal seemed to have driven itself into his brain; the undertaking had become a pet child, a work to be accomplished whatever happened, an exacting friend not to be cast aside or deserted till all was ended and a triumph accomplished. But Jim had heard the request, and promptly acceded.