"Pardon my swooning," said Bones, sinking into a chair.
"Well, how am I going to get up?" asked the man.
"Are you a good swimmer?" demanded Bones innocently.
"Look here," said Mr. Corklan, "you aren't a bad fellow. I rather like you."
"I'm sorry," said Bones simply.
"I rather like you," repeated Mr. Corklan. "You might give me a little help."
"It is very unlikely that I shall," said Bones. "But produce your proposition, dear old adventurer."
"That is just what I am," said the other. He bit off the end of another cigar and lit it with the glowing butt of the old one. "I have knocked about all over the world, and I have done everything. I've now a chance of making a fortune. There is a tribe here called the N'gombi. They live in a wonderful rubber country, and I am told that they have got all the ivory in the world, and stacks of rubber hidden away."
Now, it is a fact—and Bones was surprised to hear it related by the stranger—that the N'gombi are great misers and hoarders of elephant tusks. For hundreds of years they have traded ivory and rubber, and every village has its secret storehouse. The Government had tried for years to wheedle the N'gombi into depositing their wealth in some State store, for riches mean war sooner or later. They lived in great forests—the word N'gombi means "interior"—in lands full of elephants and rich in rubber trees.
"You are a regular information bureau," said Bones admiringly. "But what has this to do with your inquiry into the origin of the candy tree?"