In the days that followed he tried his very best to make good.  Every evening he had to himself he spent in search of the Spanish girl.  Aside from his inability to find her, and an occasional moment of misgiving at the thought of Frank Wellar, alias Jefferson Locke, Kirk had but one worry, and that was caused by Allan.  Never a day passed that the worshipful black boy did not fairly hound him with his attentions; never a nightly journey down into the city that Allan did not either accompany him or, failing permission to do so, follow him at a safe distance.  For a time Anthony rebelled at this espionage, but the constant effort of refusal grew tiresome after a while, especially as the Jamaican did just as he pleased anyhow, and Kirk ended by letting him have his way.  But this was not all.  Allan insisted upon accompanying his friend upon his daily runs back and forth across the Isthmus.  At first he succeeded in slipping past the gateman in some miraculous manner, and, once aboard the train, behaved as if free from all further responsibility.  He made it plain, in fact, that he was Anthony’s guest and boon companion, and considered the exchange of money quite unnecessary, if not even insulting.  Day after day Kirk argued with him, even threatening to throw him off; but Allan ignored the arguments with bland good-nature and looked upon the threats as the display of an excruciating sense of humor.  He continued to visit and to gossip on terms of the closest intimacy, and began, moreover, to exercise a certain proprietary right over Kirk, following him through the train to see that no harm befell him, and seizing the slightest opportunity to engage him in conversation.

Anthony explained time after time that there were probably spotters on the run, and that this conduct was sure, sooner or later, to get them both into trouble.  To all of which Allan listened attentively and agreed with all earnestness.  But the next morning invariably found him back again with some excuse.

“I can’t h’explain it, chief,” he acknowledged, on one occasion.  “Every day swear I to cease, but it is of no h’avail.  Ever you been in love with a female, sar?”

“What has that to do with it?”

“It is much the same.  I can’t h’allow you to leave me.  I would die and kill myself, but—­”

“Rats!”

“Yes, sar.  It is very h’annoying, is it not?”

“Do you want me to lose my job?”

“Oh, mon!”

“I’m going to speak to the boss, if you don’t let up.  I don’t want to get fired.”

“Never mind you, for these h’engagements.  I will work for you.”

Becoming really concerned lest he should be accused of withholding fares, Kirk did speak to Runnels, explaining fully, whereupon a watch was set, with the result that on the very next morning Allan was chased out of the railroad yards by an unfeeling man with a club.  Failing for a second time to evade the watchful eyes of the gateman, he ranged back and forth beyond the iron fence like a captive animal, raising his voice to heaven in weird complaint.  He was waiting when the train pulled in that evening, glued to the iron bars, his eyes showing as white in the gloom as his expansive grin of welcome.