reply.

Both boys retired in good season that evening, to get well rested for their early start.

At dawn next day Vasco sprang out of bed. He was not concerned about the weather, for this was the dry season of the year, when for months no water falls, and there was no danger of rain preventing the day's outing.

Quickly he ate the breakfast his mother provided, and many minutes before the appointed time was on his way to the meeting-place. Though the first on the scene, he did not have to wait long for the other two boys. Enrique was the second to arrive, and shortly afterward Harlan made his appearance.

Harlan was glad to meet Enrique, and felt sure that if his mother could have seen the sturdy brown fisher-lad getting the boat ready she would have had no concern for their safety. All three boys were familiar with boats, though of course Harlan's acquaintance was with less rudely built craft than the one in which they were to cross the bay.

Each boy had brought along fruit for lunch. In addition, Vasco had some hard-boiled eggs, wrapped in corn-husks, as sold in the market. Eggs are not bought by the dozen in Panama, but by the pair. The boys expected either to catch fish or to get some from Juan, Enrique's friend who lived in the hut near the old city.

Soon they got under way in the little boat, with its sail spread wide to catch the light morning breeze. Enrique was at the rudder and Vasco acted as lookout at the bow, while Harlan made himself as comfortable as possible midway. All of them hugely enjoyed the sail across the bay.

Old Panama is only about four miles northeast of the present city in a straight line, but as the boys went, partly by water and partly on foot, they had to cover a much longer distance. That did not trouble them, however, especially while in the boat.

After sailing about an hour, a landing was made at Point Paitillo, which forms the protection for the upper side of the Bay of Panama. The boat was safely drawn up to shore and made fast to a huge boulder by a long line.

As the tide was high when they landed, they knew there was no danger of the boat's going adrift later in the day. In fact, as the tide receded it left the craft high and dry upon the shore. At Panama the tide has a rise and fall of about twenty feet.

The boat secured in its position, the boys took up their way afoot. They passed along the rocky shore, through some swampy lowland and over broad green fields, crossing many little brooks and rivulets.

To Harlan especially this walk was delightful. He greatly admired the park-like trees and shrubs, the luxuriant tropical vegetation, the beautiful scenery, fleeting glimpses of city and sea, and over all the clear blue southern sky.

After awhile the boys came to Algarrobo River, which empties into the sea close beside the ruins. The stream was spanned by an old stone bridge, built over 350 years ago. Across this they made their way and came in sight of the old city—or what was visible in the bewildering mass of tropical vegetation.

They did not immediately go into its depths, however, but, led by Enrique, sought out the hut of Juan, who lived a hermit life on the border of this city, where years ago there had been a great tide of humanity, and where ambition, avarice, gaiety, luxury, once had full sway, but now was only a memory. Where once thousands of people had thronged, now the only living things were serpents, alligators, iguanas, pumas, and such.

The boys were fortunate in finding Juan at home, and as it was now well toward the middle of the day, they were glad to get into the shelter of his little thatch-roofed hut, and rest their weary limbs after the long walk.

CHAPTER IV.
STORY OF THE BUCCANEERS

Enrique's friend Juan was a fine specimen of the Panama Indian. He was straight, clean-limbed, big-boned, well-shaped. His long, coarse, straight black hair hung loosely upon his shoulders. He was not very tall, but out-door life had made him nimble and active and strong, and Harlan especially admired his athletic appearance.

Indians of unmixed blood are a rarity in Panama now, and Juan was exceedingly proud of the fact that no Spanish or negro blood flowed in his veins. This, too, probably accounted for his living alone. He was a member of the Tule or San Blas tribe of Indians, which not many years ago lived on the Atlantic coast of Panama, peaceably pursuing an honest, industrious life, occupied in fishing, hunting, farming, and sometimes trading.

Juan knew well what his ancestors had suffered from the Spaniards centuries ago, and how much it had cost to resist successfully their attacks. In consequence, he had no love for the white man. His hatred, however, did not include everybody, and he was on terms of close friendship with Enrique's father, who often marketed the fish Juan caught.

The Indian met Enrique and his companions with a smile, his even white teeth gleaming between his thin lips. He gave them a warm welcome, and invited them into the shelter of his hut, and the boys were very glad to accept his hearty hospitality.

"We have come to visit the old city," said Vasco, "and Enrique said you would be glad to show us about and tell something of its history."

"Yes, yes, but not now. Sun too hot. Go in and lie down. By and by we go to see the ruins."

Within the hut swung a hammock, which was generously given up to Harlan, while Vasco and Enrique made themselves comfortable on a rude grass couch covered with skins.

Meanwhile Juan set about, in his deliberate way, to prepare a meal for his visitors.

"Doesn't it seem strange," said Harlan to his companions, "that this place where there were once so many people should now be deserted?"

The American boy, though as full of fun as any lad, had a poetic nature, and in quiet moments was either building air-castles or dreaming over past events. The historic associations of this place brought to his mind much that he had read of the early visits of the Spaniards and of the bold buccaneers who followed in their trail.

Harlan's question had not much meaning either to Enrique or to Vasco, for in fact they knew much less about the history of the country and of their ancestors than did their American friend. But Vasco had enough curiosity to be interested in Harlan's question and the thought that might be behind it.

"Were there, then, very many people living here?" he asked.

"Yes, indeed, thousands and thousands. After his discovery of the Pacific Ocean Balboa founded the city, and thousands of Spanish countrymen flocked to the place in search of gold."

Harlan came very near saying something about their treatment of the native Indians, but he happened to think that Vasco and Enrique were both descendants of these same conquerors, and he was wise enough to hold his tongue.

"Many of the Spaniards," he continued, "succeeded way beyond their wildest dreams, and right here where you see these old ruins they were able to pile up a big lot of gold."

"If they became so rich," asked Vasco, "how did it happen that the city was deserted and fell to ruin?"

"Oh, that is a long story, and I am not sure that I could tell it very well, either," replied Harlan.

"There's plenty of time before Juan will have dinner ready," broke in Enrique, "and I am sure we would both like to hear how Old Panama was destroyed. You may be certain