Well, the story is told, as you may easily guess.  
Uncle Naboth and I ran up to Colon, and not liking that city took a train across the isthmus to Panama, which we liked no better. The half-caste Spaniards and natives are a miserable lot, and do not compare either in intelligence or dignity with the isolated tribes of the San Blas. Some day, however, when the great canal is built, Americans will invade these parts in such numbers that the present population will disappear.
 
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It is a mistake to think the climate of Panama unhealthful. On the uplands, both north and south of the depression where the canal zone is established, it is as healthful as any tropical country in the world. In the zone itself, which is ten miles wide, bad sanitation caused by the carelessness of the French workmen used constantly to breed fevers and disease. The Americans are now busily cleansing the Augean stables and good sanitary conditions are rapidly being established. But I will say this: that unless one has business in Panama he may readily discover a more desirable location for a residence.
 
We soon returned to the wreck, which we preferred to the towns of the isthmus, and there amused ourselves until the Carmenia arrived at Colon. Then her captain, an active and energetic young man named Colton, took charge of the remains of the Gladys H. He had received orders to remove the cargo, strip the wreck of all valuables and then abandon her where she lay.
 
He brought his ship alongside with ease and as soon as he was in charge and had given me a receipt, our people removed their personal possessions and were rowed round to Colon, where a steamer was shortly due that would carry us to New Orleans.
 
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I kept an eye upon the forest for Moit, thinking he might ............