It happened on this day that Colonel Gunther halted near the industrious Walter and his scrubbing-brush. Several children tagged after him, and he was telling them a most fascinating story about a giant so enormous that he could dig a Panama Canal with a poke of his finger and then drink it dry at one gulp. Presently the audience scampered off to view a distant ship, and Colonel Gunther conversed with one of his staff. They discussed problems of their work, and Walter was guilty of dawdling, but, alas, what he overheard came as a shock that filled him with uneasy forebodings. "The organization has been at last recruited to its full working strength," said the Colonel. "It begins to look as if the hardest part of the job had been accomplished--to get enough good men and keep them." "I presume the news will be published in the States," observed the other. "It would be a pity to have any more Americans coming down on the chance of finding places." "Yes, notification was to be sent out from Washington this week. There are plenty of tropical tramps and beach-combers in Colon and Panama without adding to the number." With a most melancholy demeanor, Walter Goodwin, ordinary seaman, went forward as eight bells struck the dinner-hour. His excellent appetite had vanished. The opportunity for a "husky young fellow" seemed to have been knocked into a cocked hat. Because he was such a very young man, his emotions were apt to veer from one extreme to the other. He was ready to believe the worst, nor did he dream of accosting Colonel Gunther and pleading his own special case. A fellow couldn't help standing in awe of one whom the whole Isthmus regarded as "the biggest man in the world." The enchanted land of Panama had suddenly become unfriendly and forbidding. He feared that he was about to become that dismal derelict, a "tropical tramp." "This is the toughest kind of luck," he said to himself. "They are actually warning Americans away from the place." Captain Bradshaw, strolling through the ship on a tour of inspection, noticed the gloomy young seaman and kindly inquired: "Lost anything? You can't be sea-sick in weather like this." "I have lost my job," mournfully answered Walter. "Lost it before you found it, eh? What kind of a riddle is that?" Walter briefly and bitterly explained, at which Captain Bradshaw was moved to suggest: "If I could shove Colonel Gunther overboard, accidentally on purpose, and you hopped after him and saved him from a watery grave, what? He would simply have to offer you a good position." "But I can't swim well enough. You will have to think of something else." "Well, you can stay in the ship, and I will try to make an able seaman of you." With a flash of his former determination Walter flung back: "Thank you, sir, but if I don't go ashore and try my luck, I shall feel like a yellow pup, whipped before I start." At the boyish bravado of this speech Captain Bradshaw replied, with an air of fatherly pride: