"Well then, just you like the American side of him, which is Horace Parkins. I guess we'll drop the misters and get to business, Hill."
"I'm ready. What do you want to see me about?"
"Well, Mark wrote to me as you'd got a mine of sorts, and wanted a capitalist. I'm not a millionaire, but I can shell out a few dollars, if y'think you can get the property cheap."
"Oh, I think so. The Spaniard that owns it wants money and isn't very sure of its value."
"Tell me about that right along."
Whereupon Hill detailed the story of the Indian and how the mine had been worked by the Inca kings. He described the locality and the chances of getting the silver to the coast: also spoke of the labour required and the number of shares he and Mark intended to divide the mine into. Horace listened, nodding gravely.
"I see you've figured it out all right, Hill," said Parkins, "and I guess I'll take a hand in the game. Give me a share and I'll engineer the buying."
"Good," said Allan, delighted, "we'll divide the mine into three equal shares. You buy it, and Mark and I will work it."
"Good enough. We won't want any one else to chip in. It's a deal."
They shook hands on this, and then had a long talk about the West Indies, which Horace, who had never been there, knew chiefly through the glowing pages of Westward Ho.. "Though I guess the place has changed since then," said he, "but the gold and silver's there right enough, and maybe, if we looked long enough, we'd chance on that golden Manoa Kingsley talks about."