ere is Chagres?" were asking the passengers crowding along the
inshore rail.

Yes, indeed; where was Chagres? The _Georgia_ was supposed to land at
the town of Chagres, which was at the mouth of the Chagres River, and
the way to California then lay up the Chagres River, by canoe, as far
as possible; over the mountains by mule, down to the Pacific Ocean at
Panama; and aboard the Pacific Mail Company steamship there, for San
Francisco.

"According to the map," said Mr. Adams, "Chagres is about eight miles
up the coast from Limon Bay. I shouldn't wonder if we were turning in
for it now."

Sure enough, the _Georgia_ was beginning to point for the shore, which
rose high and steep, seamed with darker lines that proved to be ravines
running down to the sea. A narrow inlet opened in the shore; no, this
was the mouth of a river--the Chagres River, said several voices.

"I see a castle," cried Charley. "It looks like a castle, anyway. On
top of the cliff, above the river. Or maybe it's a fort."

"San Lorenzo castle, they call it, I believe," announced Mr. Grigsby.

Closer to the river's mouth and the castle above swept the _Georgia_.
Her whistle sounded hoarsely. Still no town appeared; and to general
disappointment, when about a quarter of a mile from shore, opposite the
mouth of the river, she stopped her engines, there was a rattle of
chains through the hawse holes, and she had dropped anchor! Almost
immediately a boat pulled away from her, for the shore. It contained
the captain and two or three other officials. They soon entered the
mouth of the river and disappeared. The passengers, pressed against
the rails on all the decks, their hand baggage ready, murmured
irritably, but no other boats were launched and evidently it was not
yet time for them also to go ashore.

"If you two will look after the baggage, I'll try to get ashore among
the first and hire a boat," offered Mr. Adams.

"That's the best idea," approved Mr. Grigsby. "There won't be boats
enough to go 'round, and somebody'll get left."

Charley saw his father shouldering his way through the crowd, to the
head of the stairs, into which he made further way. He descended from
sight. Down below he would have a harder time, for the crowd at the
rails of the lower decks was thicker, where people had clustered
hanging close so as to be in the first of the boats. But Mr. Adams
could take care of himself, all right, whether lame or not. He had
bee