And Smith joined him. The sight was one calculated, if ever any sight was, to make a man crazy who had been hunting for wealth but never found it. Smith had to hold himself tight, and suddenly he leapt off the golden throne.
"Come, Baker," he cried, "that's enough. Let's try and get away. The sooner the better. If we get through we're millionaires. And waiting won't help. Come."
And the three men went towards the camp.
"It's very useful," said Bill. "For it makes better waddies than wood. The black fellows never found that out. But they are fools. What does your tribe do with it, Smith?"
But Smith was not to be drawn into any more explanations of currency and exchange.
"We make things of it, too," he said. And after avoiding this opportunity of puzzling poor Bill, he turned the talk in a direction which might be useful.
"Have you been down the river, Bill?" he asked.
But Bill shook his head.
"We came here from the East the last big rain."
"How many boats have you?"