"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."