Feeling somewhat less dissatisfied with his surroundings,
he began to study the faces of his fellow-passengers.
"Getting your sea legs, Mr. Locke?" inquired the man at his right.
"My name is Anthony."
"I beg your pardon! The passenger list said--"
"That was a mistake."
"My name is Stein. May I ask where you are bound for?"
"I think the place is Panama."
"Going to work on the canal?"
"What canal? Oh, of course! Now I remember hearing something about
a Panama Canal. Is that where it is?"
"That's the place," Stein replied, dryly.
"I'm not going to work. I don't work--don't know how."
"I see. Pleasure trip?"
"Purely a pleasure trip. I'm having a great time. By-the-way, this
canal affair is something new, isn't it?"
"It was begun about thirty years ago." Mr. Stein regarded the
speaker with puzzled inquiry, as if undecided in what spirit to
take him.
"What's the idea? Why don't they finish it up?"
"I thought you were an American," returned the other, politely.
"You have no accent."
"I am an American. I'm the fellow who was born in Albany, New
York. If you look on the map you'll find the town has a little
ring around it."
"And really don't you know anything about the Panama Canal?"
"Oh, I've heard it mentioned.
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