After lunch, which was delayed by three or four
different kinds of rum, the rum or something had pulled the tide
in and all the tiles were covered with water.
We got the brown shoe laces at a cobbler's shop, but they did
have to dig under a big pile of old scrap leather and shoe shop
saw dust to get them.
THE OLD SPANISH TRAIL
In late mid-afternoon our big corporation host and his wife came
to take us to one of the nearby jungles about 20 miles out. Not
big like the Brazilian jungles, but thick as a new bride's potato
peelings. The new highway now crosses the old Spanish Trail,
which is in a part of that jungle. The Trail was laid out to
cross the isthmus to get to the Atlantic. And there it was, round
rocks and all. Not in good repair, of course, but a trace of what
it once was.
The Trail was made for a purpose. The Spaniards would go down to
Peru and rob the Incas. Then they would make slaves of some of
them and bring them and the gold and other loot by ship to
Panama. Then make the slaves carry the booty over that Trail to
Puerto Bello on the Atlantic side, where the king's
representatives would take their "cut". The balance went to
Spain, as I have heretofore told you.
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