"I wish to sell."
"What's the merchandise?"
"Knowledge, and treasure."
Fullalove scratched his head. "Hain't ye got a few conundrums to swap for gold dust as well?"
Robert smiled faintly. The first time this six weeks.
"I have to sell the knowledge of an island with rich products; and I have to sell the contents of a Spanish treasure-ship that I found buried in the sand of that island."
The Yankee's eyes glistened.
"Wal," said he, "I do business in islands myself. I've leased this Juan Fernandez. But one of them is enough at a time. I'm monarch of all I survey. But then what I survey is a mixallaneous bilin' of Irish and Otaheitans, that it's pizen to be monarch of. And now them darned Irish has taken to converting the heathens to superstition and the worship of images, and breaks their heads if they won't. And the heathens are all smiles and sweetness and immorality. No, islands is no bait to me."
"I never asked you," said Robert. "What I do ask you is to land me at Valparaiso. There I'll find a purchaser, and will pay you handsomely for your kindness."
"That is fair," said Fullalove, dryly. "What will you pay me?"