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“Get them! Have the whole country scoured for bulls! Let the men gather a thousand of them! But what are we going to do with them?”

“We should stampede them on the enemy, sir.”

“Marvelous plan! Genius of an officer! Ah, my dear friend—a thousand bulls? A thousand? I jested! Have them gather ten thousand of the wildest bulls.”

The Governor ordered out his soldiers—two thousand of the king's troops—reviewed them, and then returned to kneel in the Cathedral. Don Juan was not afraid of fighting, but, like a prudent general, he was strengthening his secondary defense. Besides, anything that cost as much as the masses he had paid for must have some effect.

The first creeping rumor grew to a monster. Quaking citizens began to bury the plate from their houses. The churchmen threw chalices and candlesticks into the cisterns for safety, and walled up their more precious relics in passages underground.

Balboa would have strengthened the walls and flooded the approach. Pizarro's army would have been halfway across the isthmus, by this, to meet the oncoming buccaneers. But those brave times were past. The merchants of Panama thought only of their possessions, their lives, and their souls—in the order named. They never considered belting on swords or toiling at the disintegrated walls. That was for the soldiers of the King, who were paid good money to protect the citizens. The Governor must see to the defense.

Don Juan had reviewed his troops; that, to his