A PARENT'S ANXIOUS PILGRIMAGE
said the doctor. "You see, I am a base-ball crank, and I knew that he was expected to pitch for Cristobal. His first job was unloading dynamite for Naughton"
"Unloading dynamite!" murmured the father of Walter. "Was he—was he blown up?"
"Not a bit of it. He made good. The next I heard of him he was dug out of a landslide in Culebra Cut."
"And did he survive that?" Mr. Goodwin's knees were trembling, and he sat down in a deck-chair.
"Oh, yes. It didn't damage him much, barring a badly wrenched arm which spoiled his pitching. He was in Ancon hospital"
"Then the letters were all right. I am so relieved," and Mr. Goodwin's face beamed. "Now I can find him and"
The quarantine doctor looked perplexed and hesitated before he replied:
"I hope so. The last time I saw Naughton he told me a most remarkable yarn. Young Goodwin had been carried to sea in a filibustering steamer by a notorious Panamanian named Quesada, who had it in for him. A govern-
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