“But they won’t read it because they won’t believe it,” I said. “We’ll be classed with Munchausen and old Doc. Cook, Symmes and Sinbad.”
“Won’t believe it?” exploded Hopkins. “Won’t we show em? The Professor will rattle off the new species, and how about our buying out the government at Washington, and running the country just free of expense a few days, say for a week, to prove it? That will be convincing, I undertake to say. And then the pictures. The camera’s working yet, and there are a dozen or so of film rolls. But don’t worry. We’ll be the biggest thing on the foot-stool, and then—some. Christopher has had a fair show, in fact he’s been rather spoilt, but he’ll have every reason to be glad he’s out of sight when we get there. Why really it’s hard to understand what won’t happen.”
At that we all laughed, and that relief made us serious again, and with eyes open, pencils scribbling, and an occasional click of the camera (Hopkins was our photographer) we hastened down the now somewhat contracting valley. An elbow of land pushed out and diverted the stream and on this point, where the river turned, swerving back into its first course, and where an expanse of yellow sand and pebbles furnished an open space from which the lake, the receding valley behind us, a gorge before us, the open sky, and the encroaching flanks of higher hills were all visible, we halted.
Hopkins seized the opportunity for a new flight of speculation.
“Do you know,” and the shadow of a real embarrassment on his face fixed our attention, “I’ve been wondering who is to own this bailiwick. Of course we’ll meet the native residents sooner or later—their shyness is a little unaccountable as it is—but you don’t imagine for a moment that the first class national hogs of Europe would let a promising domain like this go unappropriated? Not much. Those disinterested potentates would be up here before you could say Jack Robinson to prove how necessary it was for the peace of the world to cut it up at once. Gentlemen, this is an international question, and we’re the only men who have a right to settle it. What do you say?”
“Oh, my portion goes to Denmark,” chuckled Goritz.
“Mine too,” I added.
“I owe allegiance to Norway,” reminded the Professor.
“Funny—how clannish you are,” continued Hopkins. “You’re all as good as Americans, and you speak English. You’ve lived in the United States, and you know, way down in your boots, that she’s the Hope of the whole earth; the only thing just now visible in the shape of government that cares two coppers for the under dog. Ain’t that so? Well I’ll tell yer,” and Hopkins squinted, drawled, and put his long index on the side of his very presentable nose, “I’ll tell yer. We’ll give the Edenites a square deal, and let them decide. You see we can each take the stump for our own country, and then give them the choice at a general Primary Election.”
“Will you let the ladies vote?” I asked innocently.