Part 38 (1/2)

”I'm grateful for their certificate of valor,” I answered lightly.

Before I knew what she was at my sweetheart had stooped to kiss the bruises above my knuckles. I s.n.a.t.c.hed my hand away.

”Don't do that,” I said gruffly. ”It isn't exactly--you know--right.”

”Why not?” She looked at me with head flung back in characteristic fas.h.i.+on. ”Why not? They suffered for us, the poor, bruised fingers. Why shouldn't I honor them with my poor best?”

”Oh, well!” I shrugged, embarra.s.sed by her s.h.i.+ning ardor, even though in my heart it pleased me.

She came close to me.

”I love you better every day, Jack. You're splendid. Life is going to be a great, big thing for me with you.”

”Even though we don't find the treasure?” I asked, thrilling with the joy of her confession.

”We've found the treasure,” she whispered. ”I don't give that”--she snapped her fingers with a gesture of scorn--”for all the gold that was ever buried compared to you, laddie. I just spend my time thanking G.o.d for you with all my heart.”

”But you mustn't idealize me. I'm full of faults.”

”Don't I know it? Don't I love your faults, too, you goose? Who wants a perfect man?”

”I know, I know.”

The wheel was getting very little attention, for my darling was in my arms and I was kissing softly her tumbled hair and the shadows under her glorious eyes.

”Love is like that. It doesn't want perfection. I care more for you because you're always wanting your own way. The tiny, powdered freckles on the side of your nose are beauty marks to me.”

”You _are_ a goose,” she laughed. ”But it's true. I've seen lots of handsomer men than you--Boris, for example; but I've never seen one so good looking.”

”And that's just nonsense,” I told her blithely.

”Of course it's nonsense. But there is no sense so true as nonsense.”

I dare say we babbled foolishly the inarticulate rhapsody all lovers find so expressive.

CHAPTER XX

THE BIG DITCH

Darkness had fallen before we dropped anchor in the harbor of Panama. It was such a night as only the tropics can produce, the stars burning close and brilliant, the full moon rising out of a silent sea. In front of us the lights of the city came twinkling out. Behind them lay the mystery of conquest.

No spot in all the western hemisphere held so much of romance as this.

Drake and Pizarro had tarried here in their bl.u.s.tering careers, Morgan had captured and burned the city.

Many times in the past centuries the Isthmus had been won and lost, but never had such a victory been gained as that our countrymen had secured in the past half dozen years.

They had overcome yellow fever and proved that the tropics might be made a safe place for the Anglo-Saxon to live. They had driven a sword through the backbone of the continent and had built a ca.n.a.l through which great liners could climb up and down stairs from one ocean to another.

The dream of the centuries had become a reality through the skill and resolution with which the sons of Uncle Sam had tackled the big ditch.