“It happens that I have made the subject quite a study,” he replied. “Several years ago a representative of the British government was my guest in Huari. He had been sent to Peru for the purpose of deciding whether it would be possible to transplant young cinchona trees from these forests to India and other tropical countries. With him I made several expeditions.”
“What was the result, señor?”
“He recommended that transplanting be attempted. It was done, and I understand that cinchona groves are thriving in many places.”
“Is that possible!” said Ferguson. “I was of the opinion that Peruvian bark only grew in Peru. But as I think of it, I really am very ignorant on the subject. Perhaps you will tell us more concerning the enemy of chills and fever.”
“I will be glad to, but suppose we have supper first.”
To this all agreed. They had made the tent ready for the night while thus conversing, and had gathered fuel for the evening fire, so that soon the pot was surrounded by a bright blaze.
“The water in which our food is cooking should have a peculiar charm for us all,” said the señor.
“Why so?” asked Hope-Jones.
“Because it comes from the Marañon, which flows past the white rock and the gold mine.”
“Do you mean to say that the little stream from which I fetched water is the Marañon, señor?” Harvey asked.